FFS Cat, just stop reading the comments already

So there I was, reading Sarah Mckenzie's article about those pathetic "Spot and Share" ads for Brut deodorant. I thought, yes, right on, yes, this is true. Hardly news to me; I think I wrote an angry swear-word filled entry in my journal about women being portrayed as vacant means of transportation for tits and arses in men's deodorant ads when I was like, nineteen. So I'm reading and thinking, yes, I am right behind you Ms McKenzie.

I KNOW that right at the end of this article, there will be reader comments. I say to myself, "They will not be pretty! I won't read them! Ok, maybe I'll scroll down a little and read the very first one only..."

And the very first comment went to the tune of:

Sarah, when a women gets away with slapping a guys bum saying 'find other ways to be naughty' as a way to advertise cream cheese, all your arguaments collapse. You can not have it both ways. - Bill, ACT.

OH FOR SHIT'S SAKE. Where in that article did McKenzie assert, "I want to have it both ways" you wanker? She said - and I'm paraphrasing - stop reducing women to tits and arse and glorifying sexual harassment to sell some shitty deodorant to college boys, you hacks. And I'm pretty sure she does not work in marketing for any cream cheese companies on top of her freelance writing, so it's not like she's responsible for whatever ad you're talking about. Oh, why do I bother, the dude can't even SPELL "argument".

I just cannot stand this shit. A woman says, "That is sexist." A man responds, "NO IT'S NOT YOU'RE SEXIST, SO SHUT UP AND STOP BEING SEXIST AGAINST MEN." Yeah, that’s logical.

Basically, this could have been avoided if I had just not scrolled down to peek at the comments in the first place. Like, Bill was pretty mild compared to some of the paranoid, violent shit some commenters spout at the slightest whiff of the word, "sexist". Why are you people so easily threatened by other people's opinions?

What the FUCK?!

Trigger warnings.

A Sydney jury has cast doubts during a sexual assault trial, claiming the victim's skinny jeans could not have been removed easily unless there was some "sort of collaboration".

What the unholy FUCK?!

I wear skinny jeans. I'm an Australian size six, and last I checked I weighed 40 kilograms. Since my jeans are the cheap stretchy kind you buy from factory outlets for $25, let me tell YOU, you disgusting misogynist pieces of shit jury-duty arsehole rape apologists, it is extraordinarily easy for me to take my jeans on and off. They SLIP on and off.

But according to you ignorant scumbuckets, I'm virtually unrapeable when wearing them. OH MY GOD, you guys, why didn't women think of this before? All this time we've struggled for hours trying to get into our skinny jeans ('cos all women, like the SIZE SIX rape victim, are such FATTY-FAT-FATS and couldn't POSSIBLY get skinny jeans on and off without lying on the bed, shaking our love handles around, wriggling, twisting, jumping, getting out a chisel, entering the pin code...) we never ONCE considered the possibility of skinny jeans as magical rape-preventors! GEE. WOW.

Maybe instead of donating time and resources to sexual assault prevention on a local, national and international scale, we should instead issue every woman everywhere with SKINNY JEANS. They're just like a RAPE VACCINATION!

And how could poor defenceless men with their poor man-brains EVER figure out something so profoundly difficult like how to undo somebody's jeans and take them off? CLEARLY, when skinny jeans are involved, THERE IS COLLABORATION. Case solved!

What other items of clothing could magically help ward off rape, I wonder? Those wet look leggings that are all the rage this winter? They're much more of a pain in the arse to wriggle into and out of than skinny jeans. Or what about those jeans with buttons lining the fly instead of a zipper? Talk about FIDDLY. Or how about tricky bling-type belts? "Why, the victim was wearing that chainy-belt-with-multiple-buckles-thing; how exactly did the defendant get it off without some sort of COLLABORATION? I hear there were even DOUBLE-KNOTS involved!"

And I love that the obnoxious tone of the jury is just OOZING from those notes to the judge: "[please explain] how exactly Nick took off her jeans... I doubt those kind of jeans can be removed without any sort of collaboration." Emphasis mine. Because can't you just imagine some sceptical rape apologist sneering, "How, exactly?" EXACTLY the kind of person we want on a serving on a sexual assault trial.

This "jury" and the defence counsel that ran with this shit? A fucking joke. Some people will do anything, ANY-FUCKING-THING, to blame rape victims, anything to undermine them, I swear to God. When you're grasping at straws trying to argue that a size six 42-kilogram woman could easily prevent a bigger, stronger man yanking her clothes off with brute force by virtue of her tight jeans... TRY HARDER, you slimy pathetic excuses for vertebrates.

PS: Fuck Politeness has a much more impressive post on this case without all the name-calling here.

Edit 3/5/10: The man has been aquitted thanks to those fuckers. In other news, my vigilante training intensifies.

Oh, and EW

What the hell? After a press conference in Milan, Italian reporter and weird freak Elena Di Cioccio groped David Beckham's balls claiming she was trying to check the size of his testicles.

She proceded to run around shouting, "E piccolo, Beckham" and ran alongside his car screaming, "You've taken us for a ride! How could you, David!"

She then told her camera crew for prank show The Hyenas: "Mmm, my God. I touched his balls."

I know The Age is all, "Italian pranksters" and "Haw haw haw, is Cristiano Ronaldo's bulge safe?" I know Di Cioccio works for one of those prank shows and it was all stemming from the "controversy" about Beckham's impressive bulge in his Armani campaign, but you know what? You need to be fucking arrested, lady. GROSS.

I mean, grabbing people by the genitals in public? You just don't do that, you pervert! Even if it's David Beckham!

And I just HATE the media coming off as, "OMG humiliating Beckham's manhood through sexual assault LOL!" It's not fucking funny, and this woman is an awful person.

You're beautiful... just like this supermodel is!

Women's mags, we've been here before. You, sitting over there with gesturing with your perfectly manicured hands, trying to assure girls and women that YES, you are beautiful no matter what shape you are! The current demands for women to look a certain way are unrealistic, you exclaim in a sudden epiphany. Squee! Revelation! Empowerment! Go girl!

While I, sitting over here examining my own chewed nails, wonder why if everybody's so damn beautiful and special, you just keep shoving the same specific body shape and beauty ideal down our throats again and again and again.

Prior to the release of their latest magazine cover featuring a nude and "untouched" picture of model Jennifer Hawkins in a bid to support the Butterfly Foundation (an Australian charity that provides support for people suffering from eating disorders and their carers), I imagine Marie Claire had a meeting that went something like:

Editor: We need something real for next issue, some serious lady topic that relates to our audience like no other. Perhaps with a tie-in to a charity organisation for a positive and hopeful angle!
Lackey: How about... eating disorders? That is a lady topic! How women constantly struggle with body shape and the insecurities associated with basing all our self worth on whether we meet a certain shallow criteria for attractiveness, and how this affects our physical and psychological health!
Editor: Yes! That has not been done before!
Lackey: And just throwing this out there but... what if - just this once, mind you - we have a cover girl who has not been digitally enhanced!
Other Lackeys: Gasp!
Editor: Brilliant! Showcase a real woman! Like that Dove thing a couple of years back! And, to further push the status quo... have her completely naked on the cover!
Lackey: You are a genius, madam. I will google Australian charities dedicated to fighting eating disorders right now.
Lackey: Any ideas on who the cover girl should be?
Editor: Well a popular and beloved Australian celebrity, of course, in order to raise awareness. And we have to actually sell the magazine so, y'know, preferably a model and beauty queen.

It seems to me that a charity organisation dedicated to fighting eating disorders - full of people who have seen the damage, devastation and death eating disorders cause - would point out that using a conventionally beautiful and thin model to raise awareness of the perils of negative body image might be problematic. But Julie Parker of the Butterfly Foundation has defended criticism of Marie Claire's choice of anti-eating disorder covergirl thusly:

"Jennifer sells magazines and she creates awareness. If Marie Claire had chosen to put on their cover an ordinary women [sic], say myself or a friend of yours, it would not have created the awareness it does."

Well, why not have an "ordinary" high profile woman on the cover, then? Magda Szubanski is a much-loved Aussie celebrity. When Kyle Sandilands bagged her out live on radio the entire country jumped to her defence. She's also a spokeswoman for Jenny Craig. I'm sure she'd have some perspective on negative body image issues and eating disorders.

Or Rebel Wilson? Awesome lady, confident and funny as hell. Have you seen her on Thank God You're Here? She's amazing. And suffers from weight issues.

Or Ricki-Lee Coulter? The former Aussie Idol contestant and singer/TV host has to constantly defend criticism of her body shape.

"I can't tell you the number of times people have told me if I just lost 10kg I could go much further in my career," Coulter said. "But I'm determined to show them - and other average-size women - it is doable and possible."

Now, I quite like Jennifer Hawkins - she seems very down-to-Earth, friendly and kind. I believe she is a good role model. And obviously as an actual model Jennifer knows firsthand the complex relationship between body image and self-esteem. It's great to see her here addressing the issue, and willing to take a risk to raise awareness.

But Jesus, surely a charity with a vision of living "in a world that celebrates health, well-being and diversity", and a magazine supposedly supporting this goal, could have selected a cover model that didn't just reinforce the same old narrow ideals of beauty they purport to be challenging.

White! Thin! Pretty! Young! Able-bodied! Blonde! Long legs! Big boobs! Perfect teeth! Tiny waist! Completely hairless body!

Imagine a young girl who already hates her body picking up this magazine and seeing the shallow message, you are beautiful just the way you are! See, naked former-Miss Universe here has flaws too! Because at sixteen, I knew I had no hope in hell of ever looking like that, I would've been like, "Wow, Jen's really positive and confident with her body - and I would be too IF I LOOKED LIKE THAT. WHICH I DON'T."

Having the same magazine with Ricki-Lee or somebody on the cover, along with the message, "My body is beautiful and I'm confident to embrace it. There's nothing to be ashamed of." ...that has more of the impact you want, Butterfly Foundation! Yeah, Marie Claire is ultimately about making money, and they're going to sell a hell of a lot more nudie pictures of Jennifer Hawkins than of somebody over size 8... but where's the challenge in that?

So, you really want to make a difference? You really want to raise awareness about eating disorders and promote diversity in the way women are portrayed in the media? You really want women to feel so comfortable with their bodies that one day eating disorders will be a thing of the past?

Then stop doing it half-arsed. Break your own taboos and showcase women who don't fit that beauty mould. There are plenty of 'em both in and out of the public eye. Don't tell me it won't "raise awareness". Don't tell me pointing out some dimples on a model's thigh is the best you can do. If YOU can't accept women outside the narrow convention of feminine beauty than you're doing nothing to promote change, no matter what the article says inside.

I know you're trying, but from here it just looks like you're running around in circles. Shallow, little circles.

Who even uses the word "henpecked" anymore? Farmers?

For fuck’s sake, Channel Ten. Anthony Sherna, sentenced to 14 years jail for strangling his abusive wife, was not “henpecked”. Stop updating the news with that stupid headline. That is the most outdated slur I have seen as part of a news headline in a while.

Sherna was the victim of horrifying domestic abuse over the span of eighteen years. The fact that he was the male victim of a female aggressor and you’re ridiculing him (and by extension, other men who are in abusive relationships) in this way is awful. I’m not one for advocating for the rights of murderers but mocking an abuse victim is sick and disgusting, considering there are men out there who are – YES – the victims in abusive spousal relationships.

“Henpecked”? Seriously? Are we in Elizabethan times? Why don’t you also call him a “cuckold” seeing as Wild cheated on him? Emasculating men when they’re victims instead of aggressors is just so FUNNY!

What, because when a husband doesn’t put his woman in her place he’s henpecked? And he somehow deserved the abuse? And it’s HILARIOUS – because a story telling of a years-long pattern of abuse and alienation ending in murder is as funny as a man who lets his domineering wife boss him around on sit-coms?

“Henpecked”? You’re KIND OF making light of the situation here.

Just, what the FUCK? Please stop. Would you call a battered woman a “wimpy wife” or something?

And no, “Male Rights” advocates, I'm not using this as an example of how oppressed men are. I'm saying that the media using stupid words that were coined as a way to mock "weak" men while describing a male victim of domestic abuse is not cool. Not to mention it trivialises the woman's murder and reflects the belief that if men aren't "in control" of women, they are aberrations of nature.

ETA: Meanwhile, Sam de Brito of White-Male-Privilege-R-Us reinforces the status quo with his very original article on why nagging wives are a pain in the arse and why weakling men shouldn't appease shrews. True to form, he throws in asinine slurs ("Sherna should have been given life in prison for being such a jelly-backed wuss"?) and responds to critical commenters with absolute contempt.

Nice Guy Whinetini

Ho boy. So there I was at Berlin Bar socialising with and slowly getting to know my friend Monique's latest squeeze, when what does the guy do? HE GOES ON A NICE GUY RANT.

If friends’ relationships had that little option like YouTube comments do, where you can click “thumbs up” or “thumbs down”, this guy would be sitting on -2 as a prospective boyfriend.

“Here’s what I don’t understand about women...” he suddenly blurts. That gets my attention straightaway, and not in an attentive OMG-Smart-Man-Saying-Something-Witty way.

“With women it’s like, applying for a job, right? You ace the interview, you’re neatly-presented and polite, and have all the right qualifications. But they say no, actually, despite all that I’m going to hire this other guy who is less qualified than you, who turns up late for work and sometimes drinks! And then they phone you and complain about what a jerk the OTHER GUY is! What is with that?”

Luckily for this guy’s balls the topic was killed by the abrupt arrival of our cocktail waiter but I couldn’t get the painful sound of STUPID out of my ears all night.

Oh, so women – simply by existing – are by default “advertising” for this “job”. And every single guy is, by default, automatically granted this figurative job interview? What are these purported “qualifications” you have that are so wonderful anyhow? And what is this “job” you think you’re applying for, can we elaborate on that? The job of you getting to have sex with hot chicks? You picked the metaphor, jackass, I’m just rolling with it.

Here’s the thing about the Nice Guy rant. Oh, you know the one. “I’m so nice but women only want to be FRIENDS with me and they only like jerks and then they COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT THEM THE INSENSTIVE DUMBASS WHORES WOE IS ME.”

1. You are assuming the world is made up of only three types of people. Nice Guys, Jerks, and Women.

2. Women are generally saying “I just want to be friends” or keep up some pretence of a civil relationship with you because they are socialised to be nice and submissive and polite, so although they are aware you are sexually interested in them they ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOU but do not want to hurt your feelings or possibly compromise their safety by being a “bitch” about it. Like that matters, because somebody like you probably only sees women are bitches and hos anyway.

3. Is your head so fucking up your own arse that you don’t have the slightest shred of a clue about your own roaring hypocrisy? Going on about how shallow women are for rejecting you when you are only ever referring to women you find ATTRACTIVE? If an unattractive woman you found “nice” had a desperate crush on you, would you play by your own rules and date the Nice Girl Who is “Qualified” or the Hottie Who Is Slightly Less “Qualified” but you’re much more interested in?

4. If you expect sex as a reward you are entitled to for being a decent human being to attractive women, and complain about women who subsequently believe you’re their friend (probably why confide in you about their relationship problems, funnily enough!) after you fucking emotionally manipulated them trying to get yourself laid, and then get FURIOUS and BITTER when it becomes clear they're not interested... THEN YOU ARE NOT A VERY NICE GUY. At least a Jerk is straightforward about being a jerk – you on the other hand are creepy and calculating and do not accept a woman’s right to chose whom to date, whom to fuck and whom to reject.

5. In fact you can fuck right off you entitled misogynistic little turd.

6. No really, fuck off.

Yes, rejection sucks, but let’s not chalk it up to how you’re so fucking nice and it’s all womankind’s fault for being too shallow and dumb to see it. Here’s a novel idea! Try seeing women as human beings, not a collective vagina that won’t let you put your penis in it!

Monique, I’m worried. In case you’re wondering about what the other “thumbs down” was for, Mr New Guy is also very picky and judgemental about the way women dress – deriding passing girls with jeans of a certain fit as having a “bad look” for example, or asserting how women shouldn’t wear X with Y. Yet he looks like Elton fucking John. Both of these flaws about him are coming from the same place. It’s not the place Good Boyfriends come from.

A drop in the ocean

Glanced at the highlights sidebar on my Facebook feed yesterday, and saw something that made my heart sink:

“Sluts falling down – 2 friends became fans.”

I clicked the 2 friends, having a pretty good idea of who one of them would be. Real names are never revealed here, by the way.

Boris is such a typical homophobic misogynistic footy-head who laughs at webcomic rape jokes and whose favourite pastime is sitting in the window, waiting for a girl in a miniskirt to walk past and announce, “Cunt scarf!” Lukito is Boris’s cunt-scarf watching buddy. So in short I was both disappointed in my friends and disappointed in humanity.

Of course, being the masochist I am I clicked on the group and baulked at the wall posts alone... “Hahaha stupid sluts”, “so funny when bitches fall cunt over feet”, “Hahaha sluts are so much funnier horizontal and in pain”, “Maybe if they didn’t steal taken men they wouldn’t be such sluts!” Being confronted with such raging hatred for women on a social networking site shouldn't have knocked the wind out of me, but it did. Of course I’m being unbelievably generous using correct spelling, grammar and syntax there.

Then I clicked on the photo albums and was shocked to find pictures posted of actual Facebook users by bullying teens who’d tagged their enemies with full names, then written captions like “Kellie Harvard loves sucking humongous horse dick!” or “You know Trish is gonna fall down HARD, fat slut!”

And strangers who had joined the page had added sickening comments of their own, “Needs a cock in the eye”, “She’s hot I’d cream all over her face – she’d have to ask first though!”, “Dirty nasty slut!”

What the fucking fuck is wrong with these dumbshit people? Not only are you mindlessly participating in slut-bashing, not only are you revelling in a thriving frenzied hub of cyber-bullying, not only are you doing so under your own real names rather than the anonymity of cyberspace, you are exposing these girls (and yourselves) to all the predators, freaks, bullies, rapists and misogynistic monsters in the Facebook WORLD by posting their REAL, FULL NAMES AND PICTURES in a fucking GROUP entitled, “[I’m a fan of] Sluts falling down!”

Stupid misogynistic shit like this seems “funny” or “in-jokey” to these kids but they don’t think that any twisted sick fuck who actually DOES think it’s ok/funny/sexy/a power trip for “slutty” young girls to get hurt (the HEIGHT of misogyny) can join, and THOSE SICKOS can access these girls’ information that got posted as a bullying tactic. Am I the only one seeing a train wreck coming?

So I clicked away, hitting the handy little “report” button on every single photo (under Facebook’s terms of service you can’t upload photos that ‘attack an individual or group’), a few of the commenters, and on the page itself.

Today I asked a friend to do the same, and when she searched for the page she replied, “Um... I can’t find it. Well, I found it but it won’t open - it keeps redirecting to Home.”

So I searched, both the hard way and by clicking on Boris and Lukito’s profiles to check their “pages” list.

The group has been banned.

Ha.

Seriously though, that’s just a drop in the ocean of the horrific and often misogynistic cyber-bullying going on via Facebook alone. I sincerely hope the girls whose pictures were posted, tagged and derided via that group will be ok; the body count of desperate teens who kill themselves after relentless bullying ain’t going down.



(top l-r) Holly Grogan, Megan Meier.
(bottom) Chanelle Rae.

I prefer married men sunny-side up, myself.

Hey Fuck Politeness, I hope you don’t watch 9am with David and Kim because today’s hot topic might have made you do a spit-take into your cornflakes.

“Why do single women poach married men?” the hosts wonder. A random survey in the U.S (could there BE a more reliable source of information pertaining to Australian women? I think not!) found that college-aged women (approximately 18-23 years) find married or otherwise unavailable men more attractive than single guys. Those little hussies!

David: “So how does the poor, poor paranoid married woman protect herself from the single women who are going to poach her husband?”

Their special guest expert? “Dating expert” Samantha Brett. (cue FP spit-take!) Her response:

“We can put a lot of blame on the guy – men perv, that’s what they do. I think we should warn our partners that these type of girls are after them, and are specifically after the challenge of chasing married or taken men, nothing more. Talk to your partner, tell him to cut back on the perving a little.”

Could there BE more sound advice? I think not! Assuming your partner is just going to mindlessly fall between another woman’s legs? Check! Portraying men as the victims of “types” of scheming single girls that plan such elaborate traps? Check! Slotting every single woman under the category of “threat”? Check! Pointed refusal to examine the unique dynamics of individual relationships that may lead to cheating behaviour? Check! Making an unrealistic demand of your partner in an attempt to control him that will probably further isolate you from each other? Check!

“Honey, I know you love looking at those sweet young thangs, but you know, they only like you because you’re married! So could you maybe try not looking at any attractive young people ever again? For me? Otherwise I'll POUT."

I certainly know I would respond positively and submissively if my husband made such a request to me! And not looking at people I find attractive whether they be friends, work colleagues, strangers or celebrities is perfectly controllable and would not at all involve sequestering myself from the entire human race! Not to mention when you stop men from PERVING - you magically stop infidelity as well!

Come on Sam, can’t you advise women to say something reasonable and mature instead of, “You looked at that waitress’s butt! She’s young which means she's a slut who likes breaking up marriages! I’m not talking to you!” Why not say:

“Look babe, sometimes I can’t help being annoyed when you perve on other women. And when I perve on attractive younger men I daresay it annoys you. I think we need to acknowledge that we are always going to see or meet other people we’re attracted to. But even if that young Spanish delivery guy with the biceps caught my eye, there’s only one man in the world I want to be with and that’s you. I need the same kind of commitment from you. I have to know that despite the occasional perve, you want to be in a relationship with me.”

(Yeah, ok, I'm not entirely sure of the correct grammatical usage of the word "perv" - does it have an 'e' when used as a verb? Or when used as a noun? I'm confused.)

As an aside, I wonder how many good dates Sam the “dating expert” actually gets. Surely she would be in a some enviable healthy fairytale relationship with a gorgeous guy she snagged with all her dating expertise and such. Does anyone know if practising what she preaches is working out for her?

So now I always sit in the back

I’ve never written about this incident – namely because it happened during the Great Four Month Homelessness of 2008, when I was living at Kuya's and had no access to my hard drive or my winter clothes. But Karen Healey’s recent post, Snakes in the Grass has brought it all back.

One Monday evening last year, when I was working at the old place (bar/restaurant in the city) the boys and I finished work so late that I’d missed all the trams and had to get a cab. Curtis flagged one for me after we’d had an after-work beer, and the cab driver (youngish) must have taken in the environment before I was in the front seat heading to Kew.

After a moment’s silence along Victoria Street, the driver broke the quiet with, “So, you like drinking? You like drinking with boys?”

The implications of that (abrupt) sentence would normally get me into a debate. But I wasn’t in the mood to argue about double standards and whatnot – I was in the mood to suddenly detect a threat and mentally calculate both the time it would take to get home and strategies for concealing my actual place of address while answering the question in a way that might deter any further conversation.

Which is not so much a mood, but y’know.

“Actually, that bar is where I work,” I answered stiffly. “Those guys are my colleagues.”

During that answer I surprised myself by indignantly thinking, I’m just wearing my work clothes and a hoodie! Why is he suddenly implying I’m a drunken floozy- no, stop right there. Even if I’d stumbled into the cab in a gold mini dress he’d have no right to harass me. Clothing should not make the slightest difference to the manner in which I am treated by a cab driver. Not that it made a difference later.

The driver attempted more conversation, most of which I answered untruthfully. What do you do? What do you study? How often do you work? Do you go out on weekends? Do you live alone? (to THAT one I invented several older brothers as housemates) Then, it was a sly, “So, are there any bottle shops around here?”

“What?” I asked, feigning confusion as my heart started to pound. “I don’t know, there’s a Dan Murphy’s coming up but I don’t think it’d be open this time on a Monday night, why?”

He grinned. “We can get some beer.”

Skin now crawling. “But you’re driving.”

“The beer is for you!”

At this stage I’m half out of my mind with fear, looking around the dark streets as we approach Kew Junction and knowing nobody is around. “No thank you, please just take me home.”

In response he turned off the meter. “The rest of the fare is on me.”

I squeaked a thank you, snaking a hand in my bag for my apartment keys and wallet.

We reached my street, and I told him to drop me off ‘on the corner’ – my actual apartment building was therefore hidden from view, but by this time I’m frantically wondering how fast I can run, how quickly I can turn the key in the door of the building (and let me tell you, I’m the kind of person who will muck any simple thing up in a state of panic).

I hand him cash for the fare, unbuckle my seatbelt, and he asks, “Ok, what about a tip?”

It is polite but not customary to tip cab drivers in Australia, so that was an unusual question but I put aside my fear long enough to reason, sure, he did give me a fair portion of the ride for free. I start scooping some coins together when he grabs my arm.

“No, I mean my sweet tips,” he insisted, using his other hand to tap his cheek. “My sweet tips.”

My mind exploded. Oh my God, he wants a kiss, he’s bigger than me, it’s so dark, he thinks I like drinking with boys, he’s still in control of the car, how fast can I run, how loud can I scream, is there anything in my bag I can use as a weapon, nobody knows where I am, does my phone have enough battery to call 000, would anybody be in that house over there, what if the childproof lock is on the car door, now he’s leaning closer...

Finally, I SMILED (probably trying to preserve myself best I can, but it still makes me angry) and threw the loose change at him.

The driver jerked backwards as the coins scattered everywhere, I threw the door open and ran for my life.

He did not follow me by car or by foot. I got into my apartment, barricaded the door with a lounge chair, and shook for about an hour before ringing my work friends and telling them.

“I’m shaking, what do I do? Do you remember what he looked like or anything?” I asked.

“No,” Curtis answered, “Jesus, did you get down his ID number?”

I froze. The name and identification card of Victorian taxi drivers is displayed on the windshield along with a six digit driver number. I hadn’t thought of that. “No.”

“Why not? If you did you could report him – you know there are security cams in taxis now, right? And he’ll probably try it on someone else, I mean don’t you remember anything? Did his picture match his ID? Or did you get the numberplate of the taxi?”

So here’s something I wish I'd thought of to say.

No, I did not record his identification number, the numberplate of the vehicle, and today I would probably be hard-pressed to give a detailed description of the guy. I am not of the habit of carrying around a notebook and pen and whipping it out in order to calmly record ‘useful’ such details DURING MOMENTS OF UNIMAGINABLE FUCKING TERROR.

I was scared OUT OF MY MIND. I took what I thought were the best courses of action - for all I knew, I had to protect my LIFE! Sure, it might’ve been useful if I’d had the presence of mind to memorise the ID number at some point. But try going back in time, to that moment in the dark passenger seat when you’re alone with a guy bigger and stronger and in control of the vehicle and SEXUALLY INTERESTED IN YOU gripping your arm and asking for a kiss and see how useful YOU feel!

‘Cos I was feeling pretty fight or flight, myself.

It’s just... when you’ve been victimised, you really don’t need to be treated like an idiot on top of that, you know? I was already blaming myself plenty. And given the way the situation turned out – unpleasant advances, minor physical altercation, escaped safely – I know it could have been worse. I protected myself as best I could in a situation I was not in control of. To add to that, “Yeah, but you should’ve...” is so undermining and wounding, to take away what I DID do to protect myself and blame me for what I DIDN'T do to protect some imaginary future person?

Don't. Don't ever, especially if you consider yourself a friend to the person who has just been traumatised.

So I’m going to end this disturbing story with Karen’s wise words to me, something she insists I should not have waited so long for:

You are, like everyone, absolutely entitled to the basic right to go about your day unharassed and unmolested. When someone acts as if you don't have that right, it is not because you suddenly don't deserve it. The failure is not yours.

"World peace!"

I'm watching Miss Universe 2009 right now. Yes, we have very delayed telecasts here in Oz. Anyway, I’m not usually one for watching beauty pageants, but I have to admit to lovin' the evening gown worn by Miss Dominican Republic. I’m sure my mum could tailor a suitable knock-off. She’d probably raise an eyebrow at the butt-hugging and see-through parts, though.

...Ok I’m at the notorious Q & A segment of the pageant and am now realising why I do not watch these things. Miss Venezuela: “I believe women are at the same level as men... and we need to realise that there are no longer any barriers between us.”

Yeah, thank God that the objectification of women’s bodies is a thing of the past and we're not paraded around like pretty dolls and you’re not in a multi-million dollar industry founded on shallow and damaging feminine beauty ideals which reinforces the judgement of women on the basis of their physical attractiveness alone on an international scale.

Oh, wait!

ETA: Aaaand she just won Miss Universe. Figures.

More fun with Facebook

Ugh. Trigger warnings.


So, my friend "Tyson" has shared an article weblink with my friend "Monty" via Facebook - ergo, sharing it with all of their mutal friends as it gets posted on their newsfeed. Including mine. The article?

Russian Hairdresser Kidnaps Robber, Rapes him for Three Days, illustrated with some gag BDSM picture.

The story is actually a true one I remember from some months ago, wherein a Russian hairdresser/martial artist subdued a would-be robber at her salon, then tied him up in the back room, held him captive and raped him. For three days.

Tyson added a comment to the article link: "Aside from the general hilarity of the story, doesn't that [picture] look kinda like Mr K?"

Oh, the hilarity of rape!

I'm not even going to touch that one - these guys, while pleasant enough to work with back in the day, are very very typical college boys with the old "politically incorrect" (or as I call it, "arseholish") sense of humour.

I already get sad when I see the mockery and downright contempt male victims of sexual assault face. Prison rape! Gay guy hitting on straight guy! Being some butchy woman's bitch! Hahaha! Non-manly men are teh funny!

I get doubly sad when it pops up in my Facebook feed.

Yes, sexual assault happens to men too. Sometimes at the hands of women. I guess I just don't have much of a sense of humour about it.

Feminist bashing for dummies

It's thinking time, gals! Today's hot topic: Feminist Bashing for Beginners! Have you ever found yourself wondering...

• Why it is that feminism sometimes rubs people the wrong way?
• Why some young women would rather drink a turd milkshake then tell a guy that they are a 'feminist'?
  
• Why there is so much stigma attached to the cause?
  
• Wherefore all the silencing and derailing and ridiculing when one so much as mentions the word 'sexist'?
  

Is it because of...

• Dominant forces being reluctant to relinquish power?
• Systematic oppression being so deeply ingrained in our culture that change often seems hopeless, fighting seems futile, and to survive one must learn to adapt to the ways of the patriarchy?
  
• Problematic aspects within the movement itself?

Or are you at a complete loss as to how to address these questions?

Never fear, friends. This girl California knows what the problem is with feminism - extreme university feminists hating on men! Because men make up, like HALF the population, duh! California isn't afraid to tell those extreme feminists to quit neglecting their personal hygiene and bashing innocent sexist men, 'cos they're giving us and the cause a BAD NAME!

California, you said it, girlfriend! Damn, you're so edgy and politically incorrect, and God knows that has never been done before! Like, it's totally ironic and satirical and stuff how you regurgitated outdated stereotypes about feminists and women in general and vomited them all over the screen like this!

It is SO GREAT how you challenge the status quo and promote feminism and recruit male allies by calling out certain university feminists for the crazy hairy bitches they are - they should stop being so damn prejudiced when it comes to men and stop paying out women who choose to be “traditional”! These “hairy legged fem-bots” should be more like you, ‘cos you don’t think in stereotypes at all! It’s narrow-minded people like those man-haters who make the rest of us ladies look bad!

Oh, and when you told them to “get back in the kitchen”? Tee-hee-hee, I see what you did there! You are so witty and subversive!

“I have had it up to hair-free armpits with these extreme, man-bashing, placard carrying, hairy legged fem-bots making cases that reduce all men to violent rapists and girl-bashers and all females to helpless victims who [are] endlessly threatened by a hostile patriarchal structure of society.”

Me too, California! But dehumanizing people is an excellent tactic for turning the rest of the world against them, and as an added bonus, you win brownie points from the vast majority of society by aligning yourself with their interests! Why didn’t anyone else think of that? Oh and bashing feminists by implying they’re unattractive? Solid GOLD! Your astounding creativity will definitely put those politically correct harpies in their place. And your obsession with their body hair quantities (as opposed to your self-proclaimed hair-freeness) most certainly does not reinforce shallow beauty standards of a “hostile patriarchal structure of society” wherein women’s value and merit is measured primarily by their attractiveness to heterosexual men!

Golly, you may be onto something here: feminism “could be a plausible cause”. Wow! It was totally prudent of you to make such an outrageous understatement, especially since the only reason you’re even able to convey this wisdom is thanks your own education and privileged existence that those razor-deficient loudmouths fought for. But careful, don’t want to be “Ms. Radical” or anything!

And your snipe that most women have “good reason” to fear what’s inside your university Womyn’s Room rather than “what lies beyond” totally doesn’t trivialize sexual harassment and assault on or off campus and it’s not at all thinly-veiled homophobia! You nailed it: why do those freaks need a “safe space” to meet like-minded women and discuss topics without being ridiculed or silenced, it’s not like men are raping them every time they walk to the cafeteria! God, it’s sad how these paranoid “womyn” jump to ridiculous baseless conclusions! And they can’t even spell ‘women’, I’m surprised with your sophisticated level of insight you didn’t pick up on that.

California, not only are you refreshingly unique and open-minded, you are self-aware and non-hypocritical, wow! Talk about having it all! Unlike those deranged university feminist contemporaries of yours, you don’t use “gross generalizations or heavy-handed intolerance” to put your views across! You just tell those butchy man-haters to shut up and bake brownies… in a totally cute tongue-in-cheek way! ^_^ I was wondering what I could do to get the support of men and non-freakazoid ladies when it comes to feminism, and you’ve totally shown me the light: we must beg for the patriarchy’s approval and join in their contemptuous scorn when dealing with, y’know, other feminists.

You are sooo the one having the “independent thought” – unlike the hive vagina mind of “El Feministo”. Alas, it seems you and you alone are the logical one! Damn, I mean look at these crazies with their stupid “placards” protesting against their bodies being governed by law, rape, sex trafficking, domestic violence, violence against women of colour, reducing women to sexual objects, impossible beauty standards, equal pay for equal work, honour killings, sexual harassment in the workplace, sexual harassment on the street, and murder…

Can’t they just listen to your doubtlessly superior feminist activism experience and realize that they should be less man-hating and more polite? Like California says laydeez, "nobody likes a sourpuss"!

California, let’s have a girl’s night out sometime – we can make fun of less attractive girls and trade baking secrets while measuring our self-worth by what men might think of us! ♥

PS: Mind if I wear this with my mini-skirt?

Real Men! *grunt*

This article is really old but it still gives me a giggle.

Frustrated by the lack of beefy manly-men in the city circa September '07, Kate Adamson of the Melbourne Herald Sun gave us this article:

Are men losing their manly touch?

It addresses prevalent threats to society, such as men being less inclined to fix tyres and change fuses (leaving poor little women to the tasks) and the ever-looming threat of the 'metrosexual'.

There was also one of those helpful Cosmo-style quizzes at the end in order to determine whether your man is 'manly' or 'poncy'.

Will there be a follow-up article one day, I wonder? Something like, “Where have all the real women gone? Why are more and more men not getting their dinner on the table by 7pm because their little ladies are out in the public sphere, dammit? And where are all these baby-makers getting crazy ideas like being treated as people and not as a collective gender? That's why we should never have taught them how to read." *grunt*

But seeing as they can read, I’m going to write a belated response article and mail it to the Herald. It’ll be crush-a-beer-can-on-your-head worthy.

Honestly, Ms. Adamson. I don’t know anything about you, and I’m sure you’re a nice person dedicated to your career and whatnot, but that article was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever read in the history of the universe. Think outside the boys-are-blue and girls-are-pink square one day, ok?

Justice for LaVena Johnson

From the ColorOfChange.org Take Action petition:

Overwhelming evidence shows that LaVena Johnson was raped and murdered while serving in Iraq. Yet the US Army refuses to investigate and insists LaVena's death was a suicide.

LaVena Johnson was 19 years old, serving in Iraq as a private in the Army, when she was raped, murdered, and her body was burned--by someone from her own military base. Despite overwhelming physical evidence, the Army called it a suicide and closed the case.[1]

For three years, LaVena's parents have been fighting for answers. At almost every turn, they've been met with closed doors or lies. But together we can help achieve justice for LaVena and other families who have suffered similar tragedies.[2]

1. "The cover-up of a soldier's death?" LavenaJohnson.com, March 6, 2007

2. "Is There an Army Cover Up of Rape and Murder of Women Soldiers?" CommonDreams.org, April 28, 2008

This story simultaneously horrifies me, terrifies me, and makes me so angry that I do that thing where I hold my breath because there’s a lump in my throat that feels like a furious rage-filled hour-long scream is going to come exploding out any second.

A nineteen-year-old girl was found dead inside a burning tent with a gunshot wound to the head, acid burns on her genitals (probably inflicted to prevent DNA identification of a rapist), debris on her clothing suggesting she had been forcibly dragged from one location to another, blunt force trauma to the face (two front teeth knocked out and a busted lip), with a blood trail outside her tent.

And the Army rules it a SUICIDE?

Even after this fucking mother-load of evidence of a struggle? Even after residue tests confirm LaVena may not have handled the weapon that killed her, nor would she have been able to shoot herself with her dominant hand judging by the trajectory of the gunshot wound? Even after her healthy psychological history?

This is just the tip of the iceberg of the misogyny and corruption that runs rampant through sexual assaults against women in the military. The US Department of Defence stats claim that one in three women who join the US military will be sexually assaulted by men in the military.

Makes you wonder what the hell they’re doing to civilian women in the countries they occupy, doesn’t it?

And what about male-on-male sexual assault in the military? Next to zero chance of that being reported or of perpetrators being brought to justice.

I’m so angry. I can’t even breathe. If this was my daughter somebody would be getting cut up right now.

Backwards In High Heels

To all those who argue that it is perfectly plausible for kick-ass superheroines (or women in similar professions that require stealth, athleticism, martial arts prowess or basic coordination, such as sexy-ninja-assassins!) to be wearing high heels during work hours: I give you the prison break scene from Watchmen.

Next to the opening montage set to “The Times, They Are a-Changin’”, this is my favourite part of the film – seeing Silk Spectre II carve her way through rioting convicts to bust Rorsharch out of prison with Nite Owl II. This sexed-up film translation of Silk Spectre II calmly and efficiently roundhouse kicks, dodges, spins, punches and karate chops these hardened felons and doesn’t even seem to break her stride. Finally she's in action!

Awesome (if a little stiff), isn’t she? About as close to a real life Black Canary as we can get. And look, Silk Spectre II wears spiked fetish boots and garters and no pants and can still kick considerable choreographed arse!

WAIT.

Where did her stiletto heels go during the actual kicking-people-in-the-head bits?

WATCH IT AGAIN.

The high heels are gone! Inexplicably replaced with sensible FLAT heels during the stunts! Fascinating. Certainly seems to suggest that even basic stilted martial arts choreography is hard to perform while wearing sexy spiky heels, doesn’t it? Stiletto heels - specifically designed to place the wearer off balance - would seem to impede one's ability to perform spinning kicking combinations, no?

See, this is my basic rule when it comes to superhero costumes (particularly martial artist type superheroes):

Excluding garishness / colours / capes / symbols / animal motifs / throwbacks-to-superhero-parents etc., would the costume function properly if you wanted to go jogging?

If you answered no to this question, than I daresay it is a very stupid costume indeed. Who the living hell goes jogging in heels?

I don’t get why the costume department didn’t just design Silk Spectre’s costume with flat boots in the first place and keep it at that. Is it so important for the character to be in stilettos, even if it clashes with continuity once she actually performs fight sequences in flats?

There are more female vigilantes/crime fighters/superheroes who appear to sacrifice basic comfort and balance for sexy sexiness than you can poke a stick at. Many, many more. And as Malin Akerman up there demonstrates, not even months of training and working out can counteract the devastating effects ridiculous high heels have upon one's ability to be completely and utterly kickass.

***

Further references for stupid non-functional superheroine costumes:

Rose/Thorn: A split-personality-disordered streetfighter who is quite cool but seems to think basic protection from the elements – let alone protection from bullets/knives/blunt weapons/bare hands – is completely unnecessary. Also wears thigh-high stiletto boots and proudly displays her g-banger throughout an entire issue of Birds of Prey, curtesy of Ed Benes.

Would you wear that to a MMA match?

Rachel Summers: Sure, Marvel Girl is a telepath/telekinetic who can harness the Phoenix Force, hence she doesn’t rely solely on her physical prowess, but that is no excuse to be wearing a miniskirt the size of an elastic band. I presume she needs to walk, run or sit down at some stage.

Nice knickers, Starchilde.

Black Canary looks great in heels – but stabbing factor aside, this martial arts master needs footwear that will aid her in her quest to put some serious whammy on thugs and the like, not clip-cloppy balance-disrupters of doom.

Yeah, she might make it look easy but that shit gets old fast in high heels. Not to mention it could be permanently crippling. S'why Dinah's ditched them for stompy army-style boots.

I'm not too keen on Elektra’s peekaboo red loincloth either, but that’s for another day. At least she wasn’t tottering around in high heels, though.

Can't I get a bacon burger without being sexually harassed?

On my way home from work on Saturday night I stopped by Hungry Jack's to get a takeaway bacon deluxe burger. Mmm. While I was in the line I was approached by some guy, probably 23-25, probably drunk but still able to carry on a conversation, holding his own takeaway bag and asking me what I was 'doing later'. I told him I was going home. He suggested I might want to come out with him and his friends instead. I declined, then placed my order. To my dismay he was still waiting for me when I stepped away with my burger, and continued following me and insisting I hang out with him after I left the store.

Halfway down the block his cries degenerated to, 'Waaaait! Don't leave me like this! Hey- hey what's your name? Oh come ooooonnn....' And then I think he got cold and went back to his friends.

Now. I have a feeling this guy probably meant me no harm, as weird as it seems to say that now. It looked like he was just having a guy's night out in the city with his friends, and as they stopped by Hungry Jack's he felt the need to chat up the girl in the next line. It kinda reminded me of my guy friends when they get pissed and sometimes start chatting up random girls. This guy actually seemed nice - just a normal, albeit drunk guy with his friends, probably didn't expect me to take him up on his offer, probably thought he was complimenting me, and just wanted to chat. He probably laughed to his friends later about the 'bitch' who ignored him. But he wasn't menacing, he didn't threaten me, besides the fact he followed me out of the store techinically I was pretty safe for the interim of our exchange.

So why was I terrified?

I was alone being accosted by a stranger who 1. Could physically overpower me 2. Expressed a sexual interest in me 3. Outnumbered me. 4. Followed me after I left a well-lit public area. That could have ended worse.

It didn't. But I am trained to analyse every interaction in EVERY walk of my life - not just meeting strange men at Hungry Jack's - with the possibility that I might be attacked. I've had that drummed into my head since I was a kid. Don't go there alone, don't go there after dark, don't wear this, don't act like that. YOU MIGHT GET RAPED AND THEN WHAT, LITTLE GIRL?

Question 1: Do guys do the same thing? I mean, apart from obvious things, like don't wander around the city alone after dark which probably applies to men as well (??). Do guys AUTOMATICALLY analyse situation in terms of whether they'll be attacked or not?

Question 2: If you're a guy I was just wondering, when you and your friends approach girls during nights like this, especially girls who are alone/outnumbered by you, do you ever feel that you might be threatening them? As in, you probably don't have the slightest intention of harming her in any way, but do you ever go back and think 'oh shit, we might have really scared her', that maybe your actions could be threatening in the circumstances? (i.e she is outnumbered, you are bigger than her, you're in an isolated/unsafe area, you are drunk and she isn't, you have just expressed a sexual interest in her, etc.) And would it offend you if you realised this?

Because maybe you've never thought about it that way?

And that burger was GOOD.