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  • Boobs: body shaming myself doing stand up comedy


    If you have boobs, how do you feel about them? What is your relationship to the fat sacks that protrude from the front of your chest? Are they a source of satisfaction? Do they lift your spirits, or cause humiliation? Do they weigh your soul down? 

    As a dance teacher, I can tell a lot about what you think about your boobs by looking at your posture. If your shoulders protrude inwards and your upper back slopes to hide them, that’s usually because you are emotionally conflicted by the presence of your breasts. Yet if you stand in such a manner where you stick them out, arching your lumbar spine thus compromising proper alignment of the sacrum, I can assume you feel confidence in your tits. There are some women (present company included) that have a hybrid of these two extremes. My shoulders slightly turn in to conceal them, and my lower back slightly arches to reveal them. 

    Our unconscious bias about our sex flaps have major physical and psychological repercussions. From a physiological perspective regarding proper posture, what we should aim for is neutrality. Neither pride nor shame – but acceptance. Our boobs don’t define us as women, they are merely accessories to our frame that should be viewed as impartially as elbows.   

    Easier said than done right!!?? 

    I realized a lot about what I actually feel about my body this weekend when I went to NYC to do a marathon of stand-up comedy shows. There is nothing that will put you in touch with your neurosis like standing in front of 70 people and trying to get them to not only laugh at your jokes, but also like you. 

    For my first few nights performing I wore a baggie t-shirt on stage. In my New Hampshire life, I wear a uniform of sweatpants and baggie t-shirts. Since I dance every day, there is no point in wearing anything but dance clothes, and my dance clothes look surprisingly like my pajamas. I have my night time sweats, my day time sweats, and they are indistinguishable. Even though I put on some eye liner for these comedy shows, my outfit felt very New Hampshire to me. Baggie shirt. Baggie harem pants. My body was hidden.  

    Yet my last night of performing I *gasp* put on a tank top. It wasn’t a super revealing tank top mind you – yet it was form fitting and revealed the shape of my figure. Now why did I wear said tank top? Because it was hot outside yes… but also because it was a hot looking tank top. It was my last night in the City and I thought maybe after my final comedy show I would go “out” with one of my NYC friends to have some party time.

    When I lived in NYC for 10 years, NY Toni loved party time! NY Toni loved to go out dancing. The thing with NY Toni was that NY Toni was always kind of hungry, always seeking something, always looking for who was looking at her. New Hampshire Toni doesn’t do that stuff because there is no one for NH Toni to see seeing her but the trees in her back yard.

    Since leaving NYC ten years ago I have been trying to find a balance between these two selves, but its painful to let go of who you were to become who you are. So, off I went to perform in my tank top that was also my going “out shirt.” Don’t worry though, I was still wearing the same baggie harem pants from the night before because I can’t bother to shower when in the city because rats. Plus I had recently discovered the glory of dry shampoo and was pouring that powder on my head like I was a founding father.

    When I got to the comedy venue, I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. The other shows had gone really well and I was excited about the material. Everything was going my way so you can see where this is going… right? 

    I got on stage in my tank top, took one look at the audience, and immediately I started to unravel. Before I even opened my mouth, I knew it was going to go badly. My problem was that right in front of me was a disapproving older woman. The way she looked at me made me crumble. All my confidence melted like the Wicked Witch of the West and I was left with a pile of my own shame.

    I felt my body and could sense her looking at me, looking through me. I became convinced that this disproving woman knew my motivation in wearing that tank top was superficial. She was aware that I wore that tank top to be old NY Toni even though she is a person in my past – a nostalgic version of myself I can no longer access sincerely. I tried to do my set, but I fumbled, flailed, and spun around in circles like a drunk spider weaving a web of humiliation.

    The thing about stand-up comedy is that it’s very rare for an entire room to like me. But if I can get 2/3 of the room on my side, it can be a really good show. There were many other people besides this disapproving older woman that could have enjoyed me, but she was the trigger I pulled in my own mental suicide on stage. I was ashamed of my tank top, of my body, and of my intentions. It was threw her eyes that I saw myself, even though I was really seeing myself through my own eyes looking through her eyes into my own eyes.

    Every other comic that show did well but me. They were also all men. I watched dude after dude make jokes that were just as crude as mine. The dudes were getting away with things I wasn’t because they were confident and I was so obviously unsure of myself. Just my luck, I had two more shows to do and there was no way I could do them in that fucking tank top. I snuck outside, went to a tourist shop, and bought a huge I Heart NY T-shirt. Of course, once I was properly covered, I killed the rest of my shows. 

    What the fuck happened? Was it me or was it the tank top?

    It was how I FELT about the tank top.

    In the external world, I think I did experience sexism from that older woman. She was genuinely judging me in a way that she wasn’t judging the men. I believe she did resent my body. But you know what? Men are sexist against me when I’m on stage all the time and it doesn’t affect me. If the sexist men don’t trigger me then why does the sexist woman? I was more impacted by the woman being sexist because I expect if from the men, but I don’t expect it from the women.

    But do you see what just happened there? I allow men to get away with sexism but not women!!? Now I’ve turned myself into a misogynist for hating women who hate me and allowing men rights I don’t allow women! 

    AHHHHHHHHHHH! 

    In the internal world, I was impacted by the disapproving older woman because I have been socialized and conditioned to pander to the feelings of the older woman. Both my parents had contentious relationships to their mothers, so for me as a child, my relationship to my grandmothers was through the lens of my parent’s fear. Rather than feeling like I could be myself around my grandmothers, I felt I had to acquiesce to how they wanted me to be. I felt that love was conditional, and people only loved you if you pleased them.

    The reason I was so impacted by the disapproving older woman in the audience was because she was the physical manifestation of one of my primal wounds! As such, I bled all over her, and myself.

    Of course, I could have had the opposite reaction than to cover up like I was visiting a mosque. I could have been like, “fuck that – I like my tank top and this is who I am in my tank top so deal with it!” That is an approach that can really work for women too! Women shouldn’t have to conceal their bodies to feel like themselves. Finding confidence has nothing to do with what you are actually wearing, but how you feel about yourself in what you are wearing. The clothes are the casing. But your attitude is what makes the difference.

    If I felt like myself in a lace camisole I could perform in one, and still be my authentic self. But in truth, Toni, especially New Hampshire Toni, feels best about Toni in loose clothes. When I am most myself, I am wearing New Hampshire Toni clothes. New Hampshire Toni does not seek the approval of the male gaze. New Hampshire Toni likes to be comfortable. New Hampshire Toni things buttons on pants are Guantanamo bay style torture.

    If what I seek for on stage is authenticity, its New Hampshire Toni that I have to dress like.                       

    Here I am… contemplating my boobs

  • How to Stay in Love and Be Happy in a Relationship ForEVER!

    I think we all know the narrative of the classic love story. Human meets human. They fall in love. They have sex 3-5 times a day. They think this will never change. They know they are the real deal, the ones who have found the hidden elixir of eternal love and lust. They are convinced they are different. They move into together. They are happy. But who’s turn is it to unload the dishwasher? Why are your dirty socks always on the sofa? Don’t use the sponge to wipe up the floor! THAT’S FOR THE SINK! No, you take out the trash! I did it last time. Who’s turn is it to make dinner? But I cleaned up yesterday! Why are you in such a bad mood all the time. No, YOU’RE THE ONE WITH TOO MANY EMOTIONS! Why are you always interrupting me? That’s my story… I want to tell it! I don’t want to watch that show, I want to watch THIS show. I guess we can have sex. Did you brush your teeth? Does that mean I have to brush my teeth? No it’s fine, I’ll do it. Wanna put some music on? Not that track, I hate that track. Have you always had this mole?

    The intimate relationship of living with a person and committing yourself to them is not an easy dynamic. Cohabitating means you’re exposed to MANY different sides of a person. No one is in a good mood all the time or has the energy to consistently be on their best behavior, so as a consequence you’re going to see the worst of your partner. (Except for me, I’m always a delight) It’s the moments of witnessing the shadow side of your lover that you may even feel some hate for them, but here is the question – how long do you hold onto that hate? How easy is it for you to access forgiveness?

    Genuine forgiveness is the KEY INGREDIENT to keeping the cherry pie of your relationship stay fresh. When you start to resent your partner, and are unable to forgive them for their behavior, that’s when you know you’re in trouble. Forgiveness is best accessed when the other person owns their shit and can say to you, “Whoops, I know I just took a huge metaphoric dump on the rug of our love and it’s smelly and moist, but hey, I’ll clean it up. Maybe the scent will linger for a bit, but I won’t deny my shit stank up the room. I also have this Nag Champa incense we could burn.”

    Of course, not everything a person does is forgivable. People can be abusive and if you’re living in that paradigm and keep forgiving then you’re putting yourself in danger (emotionally and physically). Yet for many of us our problems with our partners aren’t major red flags but more insidious scratches all over the body, and if you have too many, you will slowly bleed to death. You have to have time to heal each abrasion before the next one forms because even if they scar, they at least are no longer open decaying wounds.

    Having unconditional love for a person doesn’t mean you don’t have boundaries. I used to think that to show unconditional love I had to always say “yes” and do what a person wanted. But that’s not sustainable. Saying “no” is sometimes the most loving act you can do if saying “no” means you won’t resent them in the future. Unconditional love is what we are looking for, yet that means we also have to give it. So how is this achieved?

    We have to separate the person we love from the behavior we want to choke them for. People don’t change, but behavior does. It’s hard to fathom changing who you are, but it is totally possible to change how you act. When you’re with a partner you love and respect you have to take their feedback of your behavior and modify accordingly. Chances are the stuff you do that drives your partner crazy also drives everyone else fucking crazy. Your partner just nags you about it more because they have to goddamn live with it!

    We have to train the person we want to be with to be the best versions of themselves. Just as if you got a puppy, you wouldn’t just expect that puppy not to piss in your shoes. You’d train them how to act so they’d know what behavior was acceptable. Some people lack the skills of being a good roommate and they have to be taught how to be so they aren’t insanely annoying. The more your partner is willing to be influenced by you, and learn from your wisdom, the more you will be able to work together in being the best versions of yourselves more often.

    A lot of my friends who date men often accept their ways because they assume that’s just how men are – especially around the house. NO! People have so much potential for growth, you just have to figure out the best strategy to motivate them to work with you not against you. Many men haven’t been taught to access their nurturing, caregiving, or homemaking sides. But a life partner than can cook, do the laundry, care about your emotional needs, express their emotional needs, clean up after themselves, take care of children, is a person that’s more fun to live with. When the woman takes up all the slack of running the house, holding the emotional space, and has to also work a job – she’s going to feel bitter. When a person refuses to evolve you’re going to resent the shit out of them. But you sometimes have to train your lover to learn that evolution is best for all parties. The better person you are to your partner, the better person you are to the world at large.

  • Bras, Boobs, and the Truth About Victoria’s Secret

    I remember being a flat chested pre-teen and really wanting big boobs – so much so, that I’d even wish for them on a star. I’m not really sure that’s what Pinocchio had in mind for me, but I’m 100% sure it’s what Walt Disney did.

    I’m not sure why I was so interested in having large fat balls dangle off my chest, but at the time, it seemed very crucial. Maybe it was curiosity? Wanting to know what they would feel like? I also wanted braces for that exact reason. I’d see my friends struggle with metal scraping their inner lips, rubber bands snapping their tongues, retainers that flipped and got coated with food mucus, and I think to myself – I want that. Braces seemed so eventful compared to my boring mouth that was free of torture devises, and I guess tits shared a similar allure.

    I knew when my mom was young she had a big pair of tits, so there was hope for my dream of acquiring bounteous fun bags – a dream so pure it rivaled the vision of MLK. I even saw pictures to prove my mom’s lady sacks were impressive because her current woman balls were less so. When questioning the size change of her breasts, my mom explained to me that I sucked them away while breastfeeding – her words, not mine. Although I felt slightly guilty for vampirically devouring the bosom of my mother, I also secretly hoped they’d transfer to me through eventual osmosis.

    Finally in the 7th grade I decided I needed a bra. This was of course a subjective decision made by yours truly. I think if you’d held up my front body to the scrutiny of objective scientific inquiry – the results may have varied. Yet sadly for me, science had other things to do than quantifying if my tits needed to be holstered, so I had to rely on my own method of bouncing up and down on a trampoline trying to measure for movement – I mean, I guess I could have gotten a grant to be more precise, but you know how they only give grants to boys in science because the patriarchy.

    After I deemed myself worthy of being initiated into the culture of bra-wearing women, I asked my mom if she’d buy me one. We both knew there was only one store she was going to take me to. This was 1993 my friends, there was no real choice; this was the height of the monolith that was Victoria’s secret (PS her secret is that she’s having an affair, that’s why she needs the sexy lingerie). My mother, who was a classy lady, wasn’t going to take me to some department store to get a cotton “training” bra to train my boobs for some esoteric Olympic event of boob bouncing. My mom was going to take me to where she herself found her breast buckets.

    The closest Victoria’s Secret was at the “Cambridge Side Galleria Mall,” which was not a place we’d frequent often because my mom hated malls – she thought going to malls was a republican thing to do, as was giving your kids rides, or playing golf. As a family we were forbidden all activities that looked slightly republican – hence why I walked miles to school by myself starting at age 7, but I digress. When my mom and I entered into the heavenly scented silk haven that was VS, we then perused the various drawers and racks for the perfect bras for my petite tits.

    To my surprise, it turned out that this process was not the joyous feminine bathing in satin I thought it would be. I suddenly lost interest in all the delicate fabric, and was too ashamed to try anything on, or have a sales lady help me. I felt out of place with my GAP jeans, T-shirt, and ponytail. Nothing about my 13-year old self felt womanly or sensual – nor was I even interested in my own sexuality. I was also very intimidated by the many manikins whose plentiful breasts where being decorated by Victoria’s holsters while their blank faces stared into mine, mocking me.

    I asked my mom to hurry up and pick some bras for me because she loves pretty things. My mother of course chose a red-lace padded push-up bra, size 32A.

    My dad’s a lucky guy. My mom knows how to woman.

    I left that store with this fancy bra and two others, humiliated by my own uncomfortability both emotionally and physically – because wouldn’t you know it, a red-lace push-up padded bra is itchy as fuck, as was the black lace one, and the other flowered lace one. All these bras had underwire in them that dug into my ribs and chaffed my skin. They hurt to wear… but they were beautiful and that’s the whole point right? To adorn your sex parts with sexy clothing so they can be sexy for all the sex you’re going to have? The message was clear – decorate your sex because you are a sexy present that a man will soon unwrap.

    Now, I know you’re probably on the edge of your seat right now wondering if I ever achieved my childhood aspiration of growing big tits. I get that you might even lose sleep if you don’t find out the answer to this crucial question and are probably searching for your anti anxiety meds right now because you can’t take the anticipation. Well you can exhale and breathe again because I DID GET THOSE BIG BOOBS AFTER ALL! I got on birth control pills at 15 and then grew a pair of full C-cups, sometimes D’s.

    I know. You feel so much relief now don’t you?

    But… I bet your still beside yourself with curiosity wondering if that young girl with the red-lace padded push-up bra grew up to be a woman that still wears such alluring lingerie and the answer is… hahahh that’s hilarious. My current bra situation is some old nursing bras that are stained with breast milk from 7-years ago, but I still wear them because they’re soft. I also have some floppy sports bras that aren’t too tight because I hate the feeling of fabric constricting my lungs. These bras don’t necessarily support anything, and are more just material I drape on my body with the intention of holding my breasts in place. These are Buddhist bras, and it’s more about visualizing them working than them actually doing anything productive. Oh, we also can’t forget about my favorite bras of the many no-bras that I have.

    Now I’m sure you’re thinking to yourself, “But Toni, what about those ample ta-ta’s you had?? Don’t they need to be held up securely?” Well… despite my fun bags at one point being as large as a Double D when nursing… my daughter sucked them away, and now I’m a B cup just like my mom. I know. Karma.

    What have I learned through this journey of not having boobs, then having boobs, then not having boobs again, to decorating them with painful bondage binds, to freeing them from captivity? What are the lessons I gleaned from caring about them, to then not caring about them?

    Boobs are part of my lady suite and I had wrongly assumed that acquiring them would make me feel more feminine. What actually happened is that they always felt like they were for someone else, rather than for me….

    My boobs were tools to attract others to me, and then me boobs were tools to keep my child alive. In both cases it was more about the “other” than the “self.” It’s not like I ever sat around playing with my tits, molding them like Play Dough into little shapes of animals. They mostly just have sat there, ignored, and collecting dust. Of course tits can be a part of sex – but that’s more about the nipple anyway – the actual size of your breasts has nothing to do with pleasure.

    What I’ve come to think about lingerie is that it’s a costume for women to adorn themselves with to find their identity of “sexy” in sexual situations. It helps both parties get into character. When you think of all the weird, banana pants stuff one does in the bedroom, you kind of have to suspend belief and forget who you actually are for a moment. A rational person would NEVER ask another human to tongue their asshole. That’s just not an activity that makes ANY sense when you think about it in a normal state of mind. So we have ladies ornament themselves with lingerie as part of the process of forgetting all reason and allowing a new version of yourself to come out and not question all their bizarre shit we do to each other’s bodies when possessed by lust.

    Look how much fun they’re having!

  • The REAL Reason Women Get Their Periods

    Guess what everybody!? It’s that glorious time of the lunar cycle where I shed my menses out into the ethereal material of the multiverse, painting the cosmos with cherry colored uterine debris. Aren’t you so excited to hear this!? That right now, at this very moment, I am leaking as if there were womb wine makers stomping their bare feet into my ovaries!

    If you’re anything like me (and for you’re sake I will say prayers under Tibetan flags that you’re not), you might find yourself contemplating the nature of bloody vaginal secretions while sipping you’re morning tea. Why is it that ladies experience this delightful monthly ceremony where we have to curtsy to the gods of cotton, bowing to the soft snowy material in reverence for our dependence? It can’t just be because God’s punishing half of humanity for Eve’s original sin of tasting the forbidden fruit, especially because we can’t really blame her for the snake’s seduction. After all, apples are low calorie and you know how society likes to keep its women thin!

    Is there some greater message to be received by these persistent periods beyond the body’s continual reminder of potential procreation?

    You bet your sweet ass there is.

    Your period is mother’s nature secret gift to us ladies. Don’t be jealous men – you have your phallic elements too, your towers that pierce the sky, missiles that blast through the air, and carrots that penetrate the earth. But Gaia has bestowed upon women this lovely bodily experience of bleeding through your pajamas, past your sheets, and deep into your mattress as a means to whisper into your ear canal a crucial lesson that must be remembered time and time again. A tap on the shoulder to activate awareness beyond the kerfuffle of dealing the accouterment of all the various devices we must use to catch, capture, and collect the shedding of our walls. Yes my friends, we must honor and praise the period because it does one thing to all of us that is actually vastly important to our psychological selves.

    It makes us bitchy.

    Why is this important you may wonder? Well, having to sleuth the arrival of my fallopian’s farewell to my unfertilized child has made me a detective of sorts, sorting out the emotional puzzle of the hormonal flooding inspired by the deluge of ruby fluid. Being a normally kind, tolerant, peaceful person, the gift of the bitchy rage that accompanies my yoni’s yawing is actually the KEY ingredient to unlocking a crucial side in my personality.

    My period doesn’t feel the pressure to be conformist and come every 28 days like the rest of the periods. NO! My period is a rebel that challenges the confines of society and arrives whenever it pleases. This is not a status quo kind of period, but a revolutionary menstruation that wants to defy all laws of logic, physics, and convenience. As such, I never really know when this allusive period will arrive. It’s always lurking in the shadows of possibility, stealthily stalking my every move. I don’t have warning cramps to alert my body’s eco-system that it will momentarily be bombarded with bombs of red tissue. There is no alarm that goes off cautioning me of soon to be stained panties. But what does happen to me is that I start to feel a primordial fury about the horrors of humanity.

    Now, if you know me, you know that I’m always talking about the patriarchy this, the patriarchy that, and blah blah blah the patriarchy. Yet I don’t always FEEL the abhorrent reality of how the world functions. I can simultaneously know that there is massive unnecessary suffering, yet still have a conversation about benign topics like putting butter in one’s coffee to still get high off caffeine, but not as high. Of course in the back of my mind there is always this persistent nagging that we are at 2 minutes on the doomsday clock, punching in for our ultimate peril – but I can still function like a relatively “normal” person and not scream “we’re all gonna die!” in the face of my green grocer.

    Yet when I get my period, it’s as if all the social convention and historical expectation to be a “good girl” melts into the magma of my fiery blood. I no longer want to play nice or say nothing when a man looks me in my face and questions if gender even matters for women anymore. That side of me that is accommodating, overly cautious, and afraid to make others uncomfortable suddenly flies out the window like a pad with wings. My period awakens the kraken inside that yearns to speak my truth and say things like, “Hey dude, why don’t you shut the fuck up before I plug up your mouth hole with my tampon.” But, don’t worry; I would never actually do that because I don’t wear tampons… but come to think of it, I could just free bleed onto his face, which would have the same effect.

    I’m just spit-balling here!

    Men may wonder why women get so “emotional” during their periods, and not to be gendered or anything, but it is a biological difference that is significant to the female experience. Not that men don’t get their “Manses” because they do, but the influence of my period on my behavior is significant enough to reshape my days, and define my time.

    The reason why I get an attitude is because my period is an unveiling of reality. The hormonal spikes are my body’s way of taking off the blinders of thousands of years of the conditioning women. The rose tinted glasses become flooded with a crimson tide, and I’m reminded how women’s bodies have been used and abused. I recall that women are raped, killed, and tortured because of wars waged by men. I remember how the violence inflicted on the environment is caused by a patriarchal system of economics devised by the fathers of the state, and controlled by the titans of industry.

    I’m not shitting on all men. Of course not! So many men have honorary periods where they too feel the horror of the elevator in The Shining reenacted in their underpants… metaphorically of course. For those men I lovingly extend my panty liner, and fill their hearts with the contents of my diva cup. Those glorious males, or gender fluid people who like me, feel the oppression and confines of society and desperately seek another way. When I talk of the patriarchy it’s not about men vs woman but rather an acknowledgement that a system that’s benefited few men has a vast influence on all of humanity’s organizing principals from religion, to capitalism, to war, to the insatiable thirst for power. This masculine way of ruling is not about all men, but the definition of masculinity that glorifies violence towards women, and the planet.

    So that’s why we are bitchy. We see the truth for one week of every month. We feel the pain of our “president” saying he’s not a feminist, meaning he doesn’t believe in equal rights for women. The period is that special time that chips away at the pressures the patriarchy has put on us women to just shut up and take it. That’s why as women get older, and have had more and more periods to scrape away the mind control, we start to rebel more and shave our armpits less. As a young woman I tolerated things I never would today because my menses has rewired my brain over the years to say, “Hey Toni, you actually don’t have do things you don’t want to.” Our periods are a secret sacrament that engages our souls and remind us that we should be fighting against the crimes against us. Then, after 5-7 days the veil comes back up and we smile, make you a sammich, and suck your dick again.

    February 8, 2018 • Emotions, Health, Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 4004

  • Maybe We Should Get to Know Each other BEFORE Getting Naked?

    Toni: I totally forgot about that attempted rape!!!!

    That was an actual sentence that came out of my mouth last weekend. I wasn’t trying to be flippant – it was just an authentic reaction to a memory I hadn’t thought about since it happened. Not because I was repressing trauma (I don’t think) but more because it was just one of so many times where a man tried to sexually violate me that I swept it under the Persian rug of my consciousness. I got away, and nothing happened, so why file it in the memory banks? That’s how many #metoo moments a lady can have. So many, you forget about the ones you escape.

    Sadly, not every time I was in a creepy situation with a guy did I feel tough enough to scream in his face, “I’m going to cut off your dick and eat it” – too many times I felt the opposite. I have plenty of memories where I felt unsure and unsafe. I acquiesced. I resigned. I did things I didn’t want to do because I didn’t have it in me to yell about chomping off penises. This is the problem with the gray area around sexual assault. The story that Aziz Ansari is currently the unwilling ambassador of. The encounters that leave a woman feeling sexually violated even though she wasn’t held down with a gun to her head, and the man is left confused, not believing he did anything wrong. I think in Western American culture we have come to a common understanding of what violent rape is, but we have no idea about the massive spectrum of harm against women that is now dominating the conversation.

    WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE GRAY AREA!!

    Not just us ladies. If men want to stop getting accused of being rapey they’ve got to be open to understanding why shit feels rapey. Probably a lot of men are thinking right now, “Shut the fuck up… just shut the fuck up about all this. Your feelings make me uncomfortable so stop sharing them. Shut the fuck up and take it.” Well, we have. We’ve shut the fuck up for thousands of years and now we’re done being quiet.

    Women are trying to talk about it, and that is actually the MOST important part of this movement. Sure it sucks for these public figures that are now becoming the reluctant figureheads of these dialogues. It may not feel fair to some that Aziz is experiencing a massive public shaming for behaving in a way that millions of men do daily. But you know what else isn’t fair? The millions of women getting raped at this moment across the world. Life isn’t fair. It hasn’t been fair for women since the dawn of the patriarchy, and it hasn’t been fair for most men either. Some men that aren’t technically “bad” men are going to go down, and yeah, it’s a real bummer for them – but it’s also the ONLY way men will listen. I think many of us feel conflicted because who wants a seemingly benign dude like Aziz to be the poster boy for sexual assault? Especially when what he did feels so relatable to so many? Trust me, I’d rather have a white piece of shit like Weinstein continue to be the face of the #metoo stories because I hate the racial undertones. Yet Weinstein was such a monster that most men were like “Shit, I’m not like that mother fucker so I must be okay.” The reality is that these more common stories have to be the ones we’re paying equal attention to even if they lack the obvious violence of the Weinstein style rapes. The more men identify with Aziz and his story the more men will develop a greater curiosity to understand what all these “lady feelings” are about when it comes to sexual assault. The more men that burn in fire of this flaming desire women have to be heard, the more men will wake up and listen.

    This is not a bad thing. This is actually really important for men, women, intimacy and culture. I think we’re actually evolving, or at least the process is in front of us. Yet the question shouldn’t be “why don’t these women just leave if they feel uncomfortable,” but rather “why aren’t men curious about the woman’s sexual and emotional experience?”

    Of course there are instances when husbands rape their wives. There are countless stories of someone you know raping you. This happens too. Knowing each other will not stop all rape, but it will have an impact on these millions of confused moments between strangers. In modern western “hook up culture” having sex with a stranger has become normalized. Yet there are MANY problems with this expectation that you should get naked with someone you barely know. One major issue is that you have NO idea their sexual history or experience with trauma. When you don’t know a person, you have no way of knowing if they are fucking you because they want to, or because they have become psychically paralyzed and are trying to get away from you but don’t know how. Our personal histories contribute to our sexuality and how we react to situations that feel violating. Not every person that feels scared is going to speak out and let you know. Sometimes they are too petrified to say how terrified they really are. If you don’t know them, how would you have the emotional intelligence to pick up on their energy? As a man, isn’t that something you want to know?? Don’t most men want the woman they are with to genuinely want them? So if men like Aziz Ansari don’t want women to blog about them publically and tell their #metoo stories when they think they were just having a good time, they might actually have to get to know women before fucking them.

    Is this a bad thing? I don’t think so. Women are actually pretty interesting. We are worth getting to know. Yet we live in a culture that treats people as if they are disposable. Both men and women have become so accustomed to fucking strangers that the expectation to connect to a person intimately is no longer a pre-requisite of sex. We have stripped all the humanity from sex when we continue to refuse to actually know each other, know each other’s pain, and have curiosity for who we actually are. I’m not suggesting we expect each other to live out a Jane Austen novel, but rather, I don’t know… start developing a more patient and curious dynamic with the people we plan to share our bodies with? We’re more willing to expose our genitals to someone than we are our hearts.

    Sure the occasional one-night-stand can be fun – but that still needs to be a respectful encounter where BOTH parties are pretty clear of their intentions. This means that rather than using another person’s body to masturbate with, we actually have to have a real conversation making sure the exchange is mutual. Call me old fashioned but my best sexual experiences are when the guy I am with is interested in my experience with him. He is caring and aware of not only my pleasure, but also checking in if what he’s doing is okay. What makes the scene hot is his genuine interest in me as a human, even if I never see him again. And guys, wouldn’t you rather air on the side of caution??? Let me tell you something, when I want a guy, I fucking make that shit known. If I’m going to have a one-night stand, I’m goddamn ready to do that. I promise you – the type of woman that’s down to fuck for the night is the type of woman that will go after you. There is no need to push yourself on someone feeling timid because that’s a sure fire sign that she’s NOT INTO IT!

    We don’t need a movie “he’s not that into you,” we need the movie “she’s not that into your dick so don’t force it on her okay sweetie?”

    There are too many instances where men are caught off guard by how they make a woman feel during their sexual encounter. The apology of Aziz is maybe the most disturbing part of the story – how these two people were on SUCH drastically different pages regarding the same event. Him thinking she wants it, her feeling assaulted. Him believing that because he texted her a few times and took her out to dinner that he was being a gentleman, her feeling used and abused. The most crucial part of this narrative is how almost every woman and man in this country can relate to it. We’ve all been there, so now we all can talk about it.

    Texting someone a few times is not getting know someone. We pretend it is because so much of our communication is now through that medium, but a text convo is not going to build trust in an authentic way. Having a “text” relationship before a date is NOT building the intimacy necessary to be respectful during sex. For her to be able to say “I am uncomfortable” and for him to actually hear that. I know Aziz doesn’t want to think of himself as rapey, but he also wasn’t interested in this woman’s pleasure. He wasn’t interested in her mind. He wasn’t shoving his fingers down her throat while asking her what her favorite book was, or if she was close with her father. When women are objects of sex for men, there is no reason for men to try and understand who women are. I’m sorry to say this guys, but women are kind of sick of being sex dolls.

    We fear intimacy because we fear love because we fear getting hurt because we fear ourselves because we fear intimacy because we fear love because we fear getting hurt. YOU GET IT? We are driven by fear. Men treat women like androids not because they are brave, but because they are scared. They are afraid of women because women can hurt their hearts. So why not think of a woman as purely a pussy because that’s easier than being vulnerable to the potential pain she may cause? It’s a pre-emptive strike. If I treat you like you mean nothing to me, then you can’t make me feel like nothing.

    Everything about modern culture is actually tearing us away from each other. Most porn is a psychological barrier objectifying women and sex. Social media is a physical barrier fooling us that an online community is as valuable as real life interaction. The patriarchy is the ruling system dividing the genders and creating power dynamics that affect every facet of how we interact. We can’t talk about rape culture and #metoo moments without deconstructing the societal infrastructure that supports this complete lack of genuine connection. The complicated reality is that for men to know women, they also have to know themselves. There is no more avoiding the self. The day of reckoning has come. We are all victims of culture, yet we all have to take responsibility for our actions.

    So I know guys – it’s hard. But think of it this way. If every man had to suffer the social consequences of being sexually inappropriate with women then holy shit we’d have to restructure the entire planet because there is a lot of them. All those high powered 1%-ers, those lizard people politicians and executives would no longer be in power. Men in all industries would fall. It would be kind of amazing. Maybe this is what all people have been waiting for? Our current society is fucked as fuck, on the brink of nuclear war, and in the midst of environmental mayhem. I am willing to bet my left tit that 99% of the top 1% of men that are currently destroying all hope for humanity have sexually assaulted women. So if this #metoo movement means these dudes lose power and a new infrastructure must be formed in it’s wake then actually… everyone wins!

  • Men That Are Part of The Solution

    Throughout these past few weeks of Weinstein and #metoo, I keep craving for men to participate more in the conversation. I know I am not alone in this. I think we all know that we cannot change rape culture with women solidarity alone. We need alliances with men. In order for the deeply engrained patriarchal messaging to change, it is crucial that men are willing to look at themselves, their own behavior, and ask themselves hard questions. I’ve had many private conversations with men that have started to contemplate their part in this zeitgeist, and wonder about their past in a new light.

    It’s hard for me to say that men are born rapey. I know too many little boys for me to chalk rape culture up to testosterone. Last night I was with my friend and her small son, and he peed his pants. She asked if I could watch him while she ran to the car to get clean clothes, and there I was, staring at this 4-year old little boy with no pants. He was holding his shirt up with his one hand to avoid getting pee on it, and then holding his dick with the other. We looked at each other, and he tugged on his dick a bit while maintaining direct eye contact. I asked him what he was going to be for Halloween. He told me a ninja. I went into some stories of my past Halloweens to continue the conversation. I told him of trick-or-treating in the city, scarfing candy to the point of vomiting, and of course how my mom would eat my favorite chocolates while I was at school. When this kid’s mom came back with clean pants, he then relayed to her EVERYTHING I had told him. He recounted my stories in exact detail, sharing my joys and pains with his mom with the empathy of Mother Theresa. This little boy listened to me intently – despite his dick in his hand. THAT IS THE POTENTIAL OF MEN YOU GUYS!

    Men are not born monsters. I mean fine, some are. Some people are born with the desire to eat other people. There are some fucked up brains out there, and it doesn’t matter who their parents are, or what school they went to – they are going to do absolutely insane shit like keep a freezer full of heads. Some atrocities can’t be explained through conditioning, society, or the patriarchy… but those cases are the extreme.

    Since rape culture and sexual assault is SO PERVASIVE THAT EVERY SINGLE WOMAN I KNOW HAS EXPERIENCED IT MULTIPLE TIMES… there is something beyond brain chemistry fueling this. Too many men have been perpetrators. This is not purely a phenomenon of some bad eggs… but rather a ubiquitous energy that affects us all.

    Culture at large, the patriarchy, and our rapey economic system entwined with the corporate and political agenda that backs it up are CRUCIAL ASPECTS OF RAPE CULTURE. (I wrote about this in detail last week). We live in a society propped up by a system of exploitation. The patriarchy of course oppresses women, but also men – even though few of them are the obvious beneficiaries of it. If you are not part of the 1% of men that the patriarchy is designed for, then you’re just as negatively impacted, but in a different way.

    Men internalize the patriarchy different than women. They are brought down by feelings of insecurity and failure. For me as a woman to not succeed in the patriarchy, fine whatever, it’s not intended for me. I know that. If I were to succeed in life it would be despite the patriarchy, not because of it. But for men to not succeed, you’re an extra loser. The powerlessness I feel in being an economic failure is easily explained by a rampant sexist culture that has been at play for thousands of years. For men to feel powerless, when they are technically the ones with the power, it is a distinct feeling of weakness.

    Many men act out this deep seeded insecurity and self-flagellation onto women. They take out their rage of feeling pathetic onto those they can easily exploit. They seek the power they lack by overpowering others. Yet even though I’m not going to feel bad for a raper, I would rather be raped then live with raping someone. I would rather be the victim of violence than the perpetrator. I can live with myself after being raped, sexually assaulted, and violated. I don’t have the guilt of doing that to someone else. These aren’t fun memories for anyone of course. They’re horrible and they eat away at you. But when I’m lying on my deathbed I’m not going to be filled with regret for being a horrible person. I don’t care who you are. But when you’ve denigrated and hurt others, you will have to face that when you’re dying. You can run from it your whole life, but you can’t run forever. It will catch up to you. I don’t know if you’ve ever been around a dying rapist, but I have – and let me tell you, there is a fear in their eyes I will never have.

    The patriarchy is the guiding force at play, yet we women also prop it up. As painful as that is, and as much I can say that we are brainwashed so of course that happens – it’s still a fact we have to face. Its already circumcised women that circumcise girls – women that have personally gone through that pain and suffering then perpetuate it in the name of tradition. The women carry on the practice. It’s white women that voted Trump into office. (Sorry I just gagged). There are women that are part of the “Men’s Rights Movement.” Women are married to Donald Trump and Harvey Weinstein. Women may be programmed by the patriarchy yes – but not all of us are. Many of us are fighting.

    Men too are encoded by the patriarchy, but some of them are trying to break free from the matrix as well. We need to come together, but in order for us to do that, we have to work with the men that are opening their eyes trying to change things.

    As I woman I want men to be my ally. In order for men to understand their destructive behavior towards women they have to 1) look out how culture at large has shaped them, and 2) understand their own personal context.

    Which leads me to a post I recently read on Facebook by Daniel Pinchbeck. In the post he attempts to understand himself, and why he acted in ways towards women that was sexually inappropriate. He didn’t break any laws, or act in a way that would get in him jail, but we all know there is a major gray area when it comes to sexually violating someone. Not everything you do that would abuse a woman is illegal.

    Pinchbeck goes deep into his life experience, trying to understand the primal wounds of his childhood that were at play in his adult decisions. He talks about his relationship with his mother, some memories of his grandmother that involved forced enemas, and how he was in a full body cast from ages 10-11. His effort seemed to me to dig into the personal framework that shaped him. He talks of the impact of other men and how they treated women, as well as his experience of how fame gave him access to women he never had before. To me this was an attempt for a man to publically own up to his part of rape culture, apologize for it, and try to understand how he came to be part of it in the first place. The most important sentence he wrote was, “I want to clear this thoroughly and thoughtfully. I would like to ask any woman who has felt wronged by me to contact me directly or through an intermediary, if she would like. We can discuss in private or we can use mediators if that seems best. I appreciate those who have written to me already.”

    That feels sincere to me. I read that as not as, “hey I fucked up, but I have mommy issues so it’s not my fault,” but rather, “I know this Facebook post is only the tip of the iceberg and I want the actual woman that have ever felt violated by me to know that I am fully wanting to work together, admit my faults, and at least plant the seeds for healing.” None of this is perfect, but there is no guidebook for how to deconstruct yourself. Pinchbeck’s effort is what I felt was the most important. This is not a man that is running from his past, but towards it.

    To me, this is an example of what I want men to be doing. It’s not flawless. It’s messy. But yeah, so is all of life. If any of the men that sexually violated me reached out to say, “Hey, I know I really fucked up and I would love to talk about how to heal,” I would be ready to listen. Not for them, but for me. It’s better than dealing with it all alone, as these events I try not to think about too much because the memories make my body cringe.

    I started looking through the comments of his post, and some people were supportive, and others were so shitty! Just tearing him down for saying anything. Page 6 even wrote an article saying that Pinchbeck was trying to blame women for his sexual misconduct. Page 6! The same mother fuckers that defended Weinstein for years is now calling out a dude trying to be part of the solution under the guise of feminism, or sticking up for women.

    Feminism is about finding genuine equality between the genders. Part of that process is making space for men to look at their own home lives, how they were parented, how they were mothered, and question how it effected their sexuality. If I said publically that the way my parents treated me impacted my sexual identity, no one would question that. Isn’t feminism allowing men to do the same? Isn’t that equality? For Pinchbeck to wonder how his personal story impacted his actions I think is something we all have to do. We must understand our primal wounds as children in order to comprehend our adult selves.

    As parents, we are going to make an impact on our kid’s sexuality. Of course we are. Parents influence every aspect of our children, and even though no one likes to think of their child as a sexual creature, they are. I didn’t see Pinchbeck as blaming his mom, or women, but asking questions around how he was raised. He was trying to understand his past and how internalized behaviors he didn’t understand when he was a kid.

    People abuse PC-ness and become vicious when ripping other’s apart in the name of victimness. Yes it’s important that we have a culture shift that is more sensitive, but that does not give people a blank card to violently bash others in the name of justice. How is that progress?

    If we attack men opening up about their regrets for not doing it EXACTLY right, how does that inspire other men to do the same? We need men to be doing more of this, not less!! If the response is to demonize them rather than asking questions to FURTHER the conversation, then we’re just making men more indignant. We need men to open up and be vulnerable, and if we shit on them when they’re trying, we’re only discouraging others.

    We need a foundation to start from – a platform for healing to begin. That starts with men feeling that there is room for them to be vulnerable, and open up. Their first try may not be watertight, but it’s a start. From there we keep talking, keep unwinding, and keep unraveling the thread of the patriarchy that has tied us all up in a web of misery.

  • Men are Not The Enemy

    Ugh!! These #meetoo stories of sexual assault are fucking me up! Every single woman I know has experienced some sort of sexual violation in her life – EVERY SINGLE ONE!

    With how many stories are being shared you’d think that all men are committing these acts of violence. Yet I feel like I know plenty of dudes that not perpetrators? Right guys? Maybe there are just some really prolific creepy dudes out there dispersing their rapey ways to a lot of victims? Perhaps for every ten stories women tell of some heinous behavior they all stem back to one inexhaustible dude. I want to believe the ratio isn’t as bad as it seems, and it’s more that shitty dudes are shitty to many women rather than most dudes are shitty.

    I wonder what it feels like to be a man right now? How a man that has sexually assaulted a woman- but is regretful- feels when he sees these posts. Do they ignite his empathy? Or inspire him to reach out to the woman he’s hurt and acknowledge his actions? How does a man react that has abused women, but lives in denial about it? Is he becoming more indignant and hateful? Do these women revealing their stories of pain open his eyes to the hurt he’s caused, or just make them seem like whiney bitches? Or what about the man that has never been creepy but is dealing with the burden of gender responsibility? Is he feeling defensive of his male counterparts, or horrified by their actions? I guess I understand that last guy the most because I do live with the guilt of being a white devil. But still, it can’t be easy to have a dick right now.

    I keep hearing arguments of people wanting to excuse the behavior of sexually deviant men through the lens of biology. This pervasive sentiment of, “Yeah it sucks, but that’s the way men are so what can we do about it?” attitude. This type of thinking is predicated on the assumption that because men have exterior genitals, bouncing around on their thighs all day begging to be burrowed in some hole, that they are going to act out sexually as a consequence. Because of this anatomical condition of “dick needing to be satisfied,” these men can’t control their sexual urges. So of course when your face looks like a shoe and you finally have some power to exploit, you’re going to try and fuck Gwyneth Paltrow. These things happen.

    I feel like there are a lot of holes in this logic. Now, I’m not a historian or anything, but I think men have a much greater predisposition to kill not rape. We didn’t evolve from a “raping and gathering” society… but a “HUNTING and gathering” one. Hunting is much more engrained in the male DNA then raping. For thousands of years men killed the shit out not only giant animals like Wooly Mammoths, but also that dude Zog from the neighboring tribe that looked at you funny from behind that rock and because you can’t speak to each other besides grunting – fuck that guy. You don’t know him. You’d spear the shit out of Zog and then continue with you day. There were no lawyers or murder trials in the early days of human history. Accountability for homicide didn’t happen until the ancient Greeks 2,500 years ago. Before that, you could kill anyone you wanted or deemed a threat, and then go home to your cave and eat supper.

    Yet I don’t here people saying in murder cases, “Well, men did evolve to kill, so they just got that blood thirst. Let him have a few sips.”

    NO!

    We have a pretty clear expectation that men should not kill people (unless of course you’re fighting some government provoked war to expand our Empire, or if you’re a police officer killing an unarmed black man. But let’s not get lost in semantics). There is a pretty obvious expectation to not kill each other; even though biologically killing is how we advanced into the species we are today.

    The other problem with justifying rape culture with the rational, “this is the way men are,” is the very wrong assumption that men like sex more than women. Nope. Not true at all. Just because my genitals are tucked in like a suitcase and not flopping around in front of me, doesn’t mean I enjoy or want sex any less than a man. In fact there were plenty of nights that I went out of my house with the sole purpose to find sex. Yet not one of those evenings consisted of me trying to cup a dude’s balls without his consent, or batting his dick around while he was trying to order a drink.

    Men aren’t rapey because they have testes, or because they like sex more. Men are rapey towards women because they view women as objects. They see women as pussies, not people. The patriarchy has insisted women are property to be taken care of by men for thousands of years. Just because we started working and voting a few decades ago unfortunately doesn’t take away that branding. When men treat women like sexual playthings invented purely for their own pleasure, (and care nothing of the pleasure or interest of the woman), it stems from a dehumanizing process that has been in place for millennia. But we can’t confuse social systems with biological imperatives. Just because it’s been this way, doesn’t mean it has to be. This conditioning is a consequence of learned behaviors, not inevitable ways of being. Just like men learned not to enslave people, they can also learn not to rape them. It’s a matter of shifting the consciousness.

    But men are also rapey towards other men and kids. Now what’s that all about?

    Now since I’ve never sexually assaulted a person, so I admit, there is a lot I don’t know about the impetus. But is seems to me that the other person NOT wanting your advances is part of the turn on. The fact that you’re doing something they don’t want, but you do want and you’re getting away with it, is part of the rush. That power you have over them fuels the desire, and is only enflamed by knowing you’re taking advantage of someone weaker.

    Again I think this has to do with socialization. Men have been in power for all of written human history. Power is a part of the masculine identity. Wanting power over another person is the foundation of most of the systems that rule us. Governments and capitalism are built on power over others. This is the social structure we’ve developed, so of course it’s going to get played out sexually. Sexuality is a reflection of culture, and in case you haven’t watched the news in your life, the world is a pretty ferocious place full of people seeking power over other people.

    The concept of wanting power over others is rooted in the structures that we’ve come to accept of how society functions. Until we develop a more cooperative system that is not top down, but rather a collective community of equal and shared responsibility, chances are there are going to be plenty of individuals mimicking the energy at play. If we live in a patriarchy run by a few wealthy men who suck up the majority of the earth’s resources for the benefit of the elite, we’re going have some rapers out there raping people. Yet when we open our minds to a new social structure that isn’t run by the tyrannically forces of the oligarchy and instead honors the need for global collaboration, then we’ll most likely have a hell of a lot less rapers.

    One of the most functional societies in the animal kingdom are ants – and they don’t have a boss bossing them around all day. There is no king, just a queen farting out babies. Ants don’t have a top down colony; they work together as equals and are the most efficient creatures on the planet because of it. When you have a “leader” as an organizational structure, that leader has to constantly re-enforce his power. The “alpha male” of the monkey species doesn’t just chill all day eating bananas. Nope. He has to remind everyone he is the fucking king all day by beating up scrawnier monkeys and trying to fuck all the ladies. That sounds exhausting. Most of the time spent being a leader is reminding everyone that you’re the fucking leader because the second anyone has a moment to think about it, they’re like, “hey this sucks, what the fuck?” Then the leader tries to kill or fuck someone and they’re like “fine whatever.” But the last time I checked, we’ve evolved quite a bit from the monkeys we came from, so maybe we could re-think this way of organizing ourselves. Just like we can change our minds and decide that we actually do like goat cheese, we have the power to change the way we think. So even the rapey dudes out there could become less rapey, if even not rapey at all.

    All men are not the enemy. There are lots of men that want the same changes in society that women do, because they too feel the insanity. There are even men that have fallen into the traps but are beginning to see the error of their ways, and are trying to get out. We got to pull those dudes up! If their arms are extended, grab one! We have to be flexible to the possibility that a lot of this horrible behavior they wish they hadn’t done too. If we are open to forgiving them, maybe they will be more open to apologizing and changing?

    But of course there are going to be some guys that burrow deeper into the cave of darkness trying desperately to hold onto a past paradigm. They will dig their heels in and believe that women deserved whatever tragedy had befallen them. They will continue to commit acts of misogyny and violence again and feel totally justified. They will champion men, and further denounce the rights of women – hence the every growing men’s right’s movement. And to those guys… ummm… hmmm… wow…. Lemme think… Jeeze… Good luck to you, and may the best man win.

  • Maybe you shouldn’t masturbate at people?

    Wow. You guys. Life just keeps getting better huh! I mean every time I sit down to look at the news and see such great stuff like Harvey Weinstein masturbated at a woman, I think to myself, “Man, what a wonderful world.”

    I mean, who masturbates at another person? How do people come up with this stuff? And what is the thought process behind this rational? How does someone’s brain start firing off the synapses that say, “Oh, huh. I see this woman is not interested in me sexually and is actively refuting my attempted physical invasion in this restaurant kitchen – a totally appropriate venue to try and fuck a stranger mind you. No worries. I’ll just pull out my flaccid pink dick, and then rub it really fast at her. After a good few minutes of furious hunched over tugging at my dick, it will spew some semen and pulse for a bit while still dripping cum onto the floor. Yeah. That’s a good idea. That’ll show her to not be not attracted to me.”

    Can you imagine a woman doing this to a man? Also it would be such a more complicated and involved process because chicks often have more of a ritual when it comes to their masturbating technique. Unlike Harvey’s uncanny talent of being able to stand erect while yanking, we ladies tend to set the mood.

    Can we just envision a female Hollywood executive cornering a young hot man with her aggressive advances, and then reacting to his rejection with, “Oh yeah, you don’t want me? Well I’m just gonna masturbate AT you then. Hold on a second. I just have to light some of these candles first. Maybe put on “No Ordinary Love” by Sade. Now I have to find my pillows. Wait sir, could you just lay down on the floor with me so we can maintain eye contact? I have to lie tummy down, but my pelvis has to be positioned just so. Wait, can you pass me one more pillow, I need just the right angle. Okay that’s great. Actually can you also go turn on the fan for me because I like to drown out my thoughts with the white noise? Okay perfect, thanks. Now I’m just going gyrate around like this for a bit, but make sure we keep looking into each other’s souls okay? Hold me.”

    I’m sure women are not the only victims of high power executives in Hollywood wanting sexual favors in exchange for that great role in Alvin and The Chipmunks 7. This kind of culture is rampant in tinsel town. Men experience it too. I’d bet many men trying to “make it” also have stories of other men being sexual predators towards them. Men abuse men as they do women; it’s just even less talked about because there is all this gay shaming in our great nation. If you’re a heterosexual man you’re even less likely to talk about sexual assault from another man.

    It’s hard for me to relate to the psychology of someone who gets off on abusing others sexually because call me old fashioned, but I kind of like it when my partner is genuinely attracted to me. I can literally think of a thousand better things to do with your dick rather than forcing it on someone who doesn’t want it starting with seeing if an M&M fits in your pee hole. Of course as we all know too well rape culture exists everywhere not just Hollywood, yet the fame of Harvey Weinstein makes this very common occurrence news worthy.

    But here’s my question. Were you surprised when you heard that Harvey Weinstein was a rapey monster? Nope. I don’t think you were. Your reaction was probably a lot like mine. “Yeah that makes sense. I can see that.” His face looks like a banana peel. Rich and powerful men that didn’t get laid in high school are primed for a lifetime of exploiting their money and influence to exploit women. We’ve seen this before.

    What I am surprised about, but shouldn’t be, is that fact that his wife is NOT STANDING BY HIS MOTHER FUCKING SIDE BUT INSTEAD IS STANDING WITH THE VICTIMS!!

    Georgina Chapman recently said: “My heart breaks for all the women who have suffered tremendous pain because of these unforgivable actions. I have chosen to leave my husband. Caring for my young children is my first priority and I ask the media for privacy at this time,”

    Is it sad that I am astonished by this!? Hell yes! My shock at her leaving him is sadder than my lack of shock that jerk off Harvey was jerking off on people. How fucking tragic is it that I was more astonished by her actions than his?????!!!!!!!!!

    So many women have loyally STOOD BY their dick face husbands when accused of rape. Even one woman is one woman too many.

    The trauma of sexual assault doesn’t end with the event happening to you, but continues as you suffer the constant questioning of your story. If you were robbed no one would ever ask you, “are you sure you were robbed?” or assume you were lying about being robbed for attention. There also wouldn’t be this covert public acceptance of, “well, sometimes you just have to be robbed to get what you want.”

    I get that when you are robbed you have property taken from you that you could “prove” is now missing, but when you are raped a lot is also taken from you – it’s just harder to point to because you don’t have a receipt for that piece of your soul.

    It’s one thing to have to relive a horrific event in your memories; it’s another to have your painful experience then doubted by others. That must not only exacerbate the pain, but also dig it in even deeper. One of the worst experiences is when someone thinks you’re lying when you’re not, and when it comes to sexual assault, there will ALWAYS be a population of people not trusting your side of the story because you might just be admitting this deeply humiliating incident because you wanted to be in the papers. You know how ladies LOVE getting press about rape. It’s so good for their personal brands and all.

    Everyone who is openly standing against Weinstein is sending a crucial message. That message shouts out to all the victims of sexual assault who felt they couldn’t tell their mothers of their experience with incest because they feared they would be blamed for their father’s abuse. These words speak out to all the women who held in their suffering because the horror of not being believed was too much to risk. It speaks to all the women who exposed themselves and their pain by pointing out their assailants in the face of being interrogated as if they were asking for it, or acting as if their assault wasn’t really that bad.

    BUT…

    Now this is a big but. SOOOOO MANY PEOPLE were complicit to Weinstein’s horrid ways, including his wife. There is no way she didn’t hear the many rumors about her husband, because it turns out that fucker’s fuckery was the talk of the town for the past 30 years. TONS of people covered up his actions because they’d rather work with him than against him. Again, maybe I’m just a stickler, but it wouldn’t take a media frenzy for me to look into my husband being a raper. I would just have to hear one whisper of his raping ways, and you bet your sweet ass I would figure out if that shit was true… which it PROBABLY IS BECAUSE THE PERCENTAGE OF FAKE RAPE ACCUSATIONS IS PRETTY DAMN LOW!

    At this point anyone defending Weinstein looks like an idiot, so yeah, it’s on trend right now to distance oneself from his rapey reputation. I can’t get too Pollyanna about Chapman leaving him, or any of those people finally coming to the side of the victims. Too many of those same people not only turned another cheek, they rotated it all the way around like Reagan in the exorcist. That also sends a goddamn message to all the rape victims out there that tried desperately to get help and told someone they hoped would care that ended up plugging their ears instead.

    Men raping women is one thing. The hundreds of people that sit by and do nothing as men rape women is another thing. The fact that money, power, influence, and movie studios buys your capacity of being able to force yourself on others while everyone around kind of knows but what are you going to do about it…. says a lot about how much we value these things. No one was taking personal responsibility about knowing Weinstein was a raper just like he wasn’t held responsible for his raping ways.

    It took 30 years and many settlements to take this dude down, so it’s not looking good.

    Maybe the only way things will change in the future is if people who aided and embedded this asshole are also charged. The type of person that is pathological enough to rape someone is pretty far gone psychologically, but the bystanders who let it happen are kind of just regular people. If we can’t stop maniacs developing that would feel entitled to rape, we can for sure put the fear of god in anyone who knows and does nothing. People get charged with being an accessory to a crime when it comes to murder, so why not sexual assault?

    October 12, 2017 • Current Events, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 3845

  • The Fragile Male Ego

    I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist, a brain surgeon, or even someone who knows how to toast a waffle to recognize the ego battle between US President Donald Tr… excuse me I just gagged a little… Donald Trump and North Korean Prime Minster Kim Jong-Un. So much of our current foreign policy seems to be a theatric display of men playing Star Wars, using their dicks as lightsabers, and the world as their playground for destruction. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not ready to die because of the massive ego of a small-handed man. Even though the Trump regime is trying to make us fear North Korea, the real person to fear is Trump, his volatile personality, and irrational taunting. In truth, the world is and should be much more afraid of America than we should be afraid of the rest of the world, because so far, we’re the only one’s who have ever dropped nuclear weapons. SAD!

    The US has been at war for 224 years since the “birth” of the country in 1776.That means we’ve only been a peaceful nation for 17 years? How is this okay? Where wars waged mostly by men are the ruling influence on the planet? Yes of course there is profit to war. Yes there are resources to exploit. Yes there are colonies to be made. Yes there is this constant pursuit of power – but WHY? Why is this a world of competition not cooperation? Isn’t it so dreadfully clear that this psychology is vastly destructive? Even though women are a part of the military and a part of the political system, it is clear that the majority of our war mongering history has been initiated by men. What is the root behind all the violence?

    Is Donald Trump’s ego the ultimate manifestation of the male ego that’s been in power for the last couple of millennia?

    The fragile male ego is perhaps the most elusive force on the planet. It has a mysterious power unbeknownst to even the most learned astrophysicist. More prevalent than dark matter, and beholds a powerful vacuum that rivals the black hole in the center of our galaxy. It has taken over the planet, and all of humanity bows to its glory. The male ego is the driving force of our economic system, political system, and even the solar system.

    That isn’t to say that ladies don’t have egos. Ohhhhh we do. Of course we do. But the lady ego is not in power. If the lady ego were the standard, we would be competing about who has the most beautiful gardens/national parks, which army’s outfits fit the best, and who hosted the most delicious country-wide bake sale. Maybe there would be some disagreements regarding who is the most popular dictator, but we would deal with that by gossiping behind each other’s backs… NOT BLOWING PEOPLE UP WITH NUCLEAR MISSILES!!!!!!!!!

    Come to think of it, would the lady ego have even developed the nuclear bomb? I THINK NOT! Perhaps a cosmic clam but it would simply be cozy place to store our enemies while we taunted them by offering cookies with BOTH gluten and sugar. “Here you go. Have a delicious cookie. Just remember, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on your hips you lady terrorist who terrorized me by hiding my tampons on day 2 of my period! All I had was toilet paper. It was a mess!”

    That is a world run by the lady ego. Is that reductive? YES! Of course but only because it’s impossible to imagine how ladies would run the world without male influence. Every element of society has been influenced by the male identity, and women have just learned to squeeze ourselves in, not revolutionize it.

    But the male ego, the fragile male ego. Holy shit. They make bombs that look like their dicks that dick over an entire nation in a matter of seconds by coming too fast and all over their metaphoric face. It’s a lot. It’s a lot to take in.

    Yet, I am an equal opportunity genital person. I don’t want to attack men all willy-nilly. It’s important that I display empathy and compassion. I would like to get to the root chakra of this conundrum of why the male ego is more fragile than a Faberge Egg?

    Is it because of his highly sensitive exposed scrotum? Just flopping in the wind, bouncing around as he walks. Does the extremely delicate balls sack motivate a deep fear in men, because they have to spend so much mental energy protecting them? Is there an angst I can’t understand because my genitals are all tucked in a like a suitcase, durable, and prepared for a journey? Yet all it would take for me to destroy a man is access to his balls. I could take them, turn them around in my hands like those metal Chinese Baoding balls for a while, and then, when the moment was right, squeeze the shit out of one until POP! Is that the problem? Is the tenuous sate of a man’s unprotected testes why we have nuclear war?

    Perhaps the boner is the main source of the male ego. I can imagine a boner is a very stressful thing. Again, a difficulty we women don’t have. I have never experienced performance anxiety about my boner. Of course a woman can be dry when she is not turned on, yet both parties can pretend that’s not happening with some spit, lube, coconut oil, of course the slime collected in packaged meat. There is an easy fix for the lack of lady boners. But when a man can’t get a boner, there is not much one can do about it except look at his flaccid penis and say, “it’s okay little guy. Better luck next time.”

    Maybe I’m wrong. I’m open to being wrong. But then you tell me why! Why is the male ego so goddamn fragile that he will rape, pillage, and bomb the shit out of countries just to prove its existence? Aren’t there other ways to make money and feel powerful? Like say, create an app, or start a podcast.

    April 20, 2017 • Current Events, Emotions, Political Banter, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 4836