Posts in category Relationships

Ugly Magazines


Here's actual proof that beauty magazines make women feel ugly:

"A new University of Missouri-Columbia study found that all women were equally and negatively affected after viewing pictures of models in magazine ads for just three minutes. 'Surprisingly, we found that weight was not a factor. Viewing these pictures was just bad for everyone,' said Laurie Mintz, associate professor of education, school and counseling psychology in the MU College of Education. 'It had been thought that women who are heavier feel worse than a thinner woman after viewing pictures of the thin ideal in the mass media. The study results do not support that theory.'"

Facebook’s 12 Year Old “Sluts”


In today's Depressing News of the Day, you may want to know (or not) that there's a Facebook page called “12 Year Old Sluts”. Fans of that page post pictures of young girls who dress or act "too sexy" or even post "sexy" pictures of themselves. You can imagine what happens next:

It features, among other jokes and memes, the kind of idiotic 'sexyface' pictures pre-teen girls take of themselves in the bathroom mirror. The founders of the page encourage their commentariat to 'put these sluts in their place,' with shame tactics that would make the meanest mean girls blush.


Wow -- let's go slut-shame some little girls. What upstanding, compassionate human beings we are. Why do sluts need to be put "in their place" in the first place? Well, it's partly because kids can be insecure little bullies. But it's also because they've somehow internalized that female sexuality is threatening and shame is a powerful tool to dampen it.


On the "12 Year Old Sluts" Facebook page, a less-conventionally attractive girl made the mistake of posting a picture of herself in the typical bathroom-mirror-camera-phone pose, and the insults came pouring in.

The crux of the problem for this girl ... is that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one side, there is the crushing pressure to be sexually desirable. She is aware of this pressure even before she caves to it, and at a much younger age than adults would like to believe. ... On the other side, [she] knows that she loses the desirability game if she caves to the desires she has inspired. ... [She] intuitively understands that she loses hers if people think she’s too accessible.


We're damned if we're too sexy and damned if we're not sexy enough. It's a trap. So why would she post that picture then? Why would a girl put herself in the position of being publicly critiqued and ridiculed by cruel internet strangers? It's not unlike the reasons why teenage girls and adult women would post their pictures to websites like Hot or Not (feel free to Google it if you want, but I'd prefer not to give them the traffic), or hundreds if not thousands of other online forums. Many girls -- and women -- act in desperate ways in that elusive search for validation.

I still remember the name of the girl who gave the first blowjob in middle school. Minutes after it happened, her name had worked itself from one end of the building to the other. You can bet that no one gave two shits who was on the receiving end; he remained anonymous and she watched one afternoon’s adolescent experiment destroy the desirability she’d spent years cultivating. 

 

As girls grow up, we learn that it's important to be pretty little princesses and to be sweet and nice to others. This teaches us that our value lies in our appearance and our ability to please. Boys learn to be tough, confident, but unemotional -- which of course has its own downside. It's incredibly unfair to teach girls that they're supposed to be pretty and pleasing, and then turn around and punish them for doing exactly that. Amanda Todd is a heartbreaking example of this. Amanda was a 15-year-old who some called a "slut" after topless pictures of her were made public by the GROWN MAN who flattered her into posting them for him. This asshole-who-deserves-to-be-in-jail stalked her and made true on his threat to share them with her peers after she wouldn't give the perv a "show". She ended up committing suicide due to the torment and bullying. If that weren't bad enough, the slut-shaming has continued after her death. The pressure to be sexy, the need to be admired, and shaming a girl for doing just that can have tragic consequences.

The wiggle room between the rock and the hard place—that sweet spot between being wanted and being respected—is all but non-existent. It is a sliver, a tiny wedge, the narrowest of alleys. Adult women spend years trying to find it, alternating between extremes, recalibrating, shooting for appreciation without denigration. Look at me, but not for too long. Want me, but don’t try so hard. Think that I’m beautiful, but know that I’m classy. But not too classy. Lady in the street, freak in the bed. You know the drill. ... But teenagers? Teenagers have it worst of all. Not only do the rock and the hard place still matter more than anything, but they have yet to fully develop the ability to scope out long-term ramifications. Their skins are still baby thin and easily pierced. They want to be noticed and ignored, be thought exceptional and average, all at the same time.


It's a balancing act between two extremes -- the respectable virgin and the unrespectable* whore. And it's all bullshit.


*I looked up "unrespectable" to make sure it was a word and here's the first response that popped up (you can't make this shit up):

respectable - characterized by socially or conventionally acceptable morals; 'a respectable woman'

Adj. 1. unrespectable- unworthy of respect    


"A respectable woman". The problem isn't just one immature and mean Facebook page. You know there's a problem with society when even the dictionary is a slut-shamer.   


More Alike than Different


Dalai Lama


Actions > Beliefs


12 Similarities Between the GOP & an Abusive Partner

Excerpt from my upcoming book:

Who Put the "Us" in Uterus?

 

Roseanne on PMS

Glass Slipper

Even if he (or she) is coming, it's still up to you ...



So Irritating

This is especially true when something irritates us way more than the situation calls for. It's an indication that it's touching off something bigger inside.



Bitches Are Crazy!

Woman goes out on a pleasant date with a seemingly nice guy. Guy sends a text the next day, hinting at sex. She politely lets him know that she's not ready for a sexual relationship yet. The conversation quickly deteriorates, with him calling her "bitchy," "mean," and "crazy". Here's an excerpt from her open letter to him:

"You didn’t seem to think I was too bitchy, mean, or crazy literally 15 minutes earlier when you texted me saying you wanted to see me again. What changed? What changed is that I said something that you didn’t like. I told you, in response to a flirty-sounding text, that I wanted to take sexual stuff slowly. But it really doesn’t matter what I said, does it? I said something that you didn’t like. That made me 'bitchy,' 'mean' and 'crazy.'

 

... In our culture, 'crazy,' 'bitchy' and 'mean' are three of the worst words that you can call a woman. Those words you used are dismissive on purpose. Those words are intended to shut a woman down, because women know society doesn’t like mean, crazy bitches. Got the message loud and clear, sweetie."

 

But there's more to it. When a man calls a woman a "crazy bitch," not only does it dismiss her feelings, but it also alleviates his own feelings of rejection. Instead of confronting his insecurities, he'll defensively blame the woman and project onto her his "crazy" (i.e., confusing or embarrassing) emotions. She becomes the crazy one, while he's acting in a perfectly reasonable manner. And she's still the crazy one -- even if he gaslights her and instigates the "craziness." Certainly, it's possible for women to act "crazy" or "bitchy" at times, but these terms are used way more frequently to dismiss and silence us for speaking our minds or making a man feel uncomfortable.

 

The author of the article offers her former suitor a crash course in Communication for Grown-Ups:

"Now, this could just be my craziness coming out, but I have this radical idea that it might be easier to just listen to what a woman is saying, file those little bits of emotion away in your brain, and then make a thoughtful judgment call based on what she communicated. No one is saying you have to do what she asks. No one is even saying you have to stick around with her! But changing your own behavior to listen and — crazy, radical idea here again — communicating with her your thoughts might yield better results than writing off anyone who says something you don’t like ..."

 

That just seems crazy enough to work! Read the rest of the article here.

 

Afraid to Lose Weight


Resistance to losing weight is generally not about laziness, lack of willpower, or love of food. The weight is just a symptom of what's going on underneath ...

     

Morality?

What We Believe

Eating Disorder While Feminist


Modesty

Here Comes the Judge

Also consider this when someone else is judging you. Too often, we take things personally when it's really about the other person's issues.

 


Being a Princess Isn’t Always a Fairytale

Life Lessons from my 95-Year-Old Grandma

My grandma just celebrated her 95th birthday. It's hard for me to believe her age, because she hasn't changed much since I was a kid. Sure, she repeats herself a little, but so do I after a few glasses of wine. She walks with a cane since a knee surgery a few years ago, but she'll still show you a few dance moves if you ask. She has fabulous skin, which she attributes to her vitamin E cream and "sleeping on my head" (i.e., on her back with a few pillows). She is so sweet but has a wicked sense of humor. When people ask her how she's doing, her answers are either, "Fine and dandy, sweet as sugar candy!" or "I'm doing them all, and the cute ones twice!" She's my little Jewish grandma who stands at least a foot shorter than me (I'm 5'5"). She often reminds people: "I might be small, but I'm mighty -- Mighty Mouse!" And she is -- she's the leader of the family, always there with advice and opinions, whether you want to hear them or not. (We usually do.)

 

My grandma was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania as the middle child of seven and now has just one sister left. She wanted to be a nurse when she was a girl, but she got married as a teenager and moved across the country to California and started a family instead. She and my grandfather owned several businesses, from a neighborhood market and sandwich counter in the heart of Los Angeles to a motel near the coast that catered to travelers and truckers. She and my grandpa raised four children and ran the family businesses together. To this day, she still answers the office phone and does some bookkeeping. She was never just the little woman. Like she says, she's mighty -- Mighty Mouse.

 

My grandma taught me to trust my instincts, to pause when I wasn't sure and listen to the voice inside. Her 95 years have provided her with a lot of wisdom, so I asked her if she could share a few things with my readers. Here's what she had to say:

 

On Love:

"Your grandfather always used to tell me, 'As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.' You need to have a man who cares. Couples should be thoughtful of each other. If you want respect, you have to give respect."

 

On Self-Esteem:

"If you're not for yourself, who shall be for you? You've got to have self-worth and confidence. You have to have respect for yourself."

 

On Beauty:

"Looks aren't everything -- it's how your mind works and your heart. Don't be jealous of the next person. Make the best of what you have."

 

On Equality:

"If a man tries to control a woman, he's being very thoughtless. He's being selfish, absolutely. Just because she's female doesn't mean he should be able to take charge. You can't let a man take advantage of you."

 

On a Woman's Right to Choose:

"You have to do what makes you happy. You have to decide on that yourself. They have to leave it up to the woman."

 

I love that my 95-year-old grandma's a feminist, whether she realizes it or not. She's loving, strong, witty, feisty, and wise. I hope to be like her when I grow up.

 

Purple Paper Project – Simply One

Women are often reminded in subtle & not-so-subtle ways that we're supposed to be selfless & put everyone's needs before our own. Today's Purple Paper Project for Simply One vitamins is one example.

 

See more Purple Paper Project ads

Purple Paper Project – Lysol



See more Purple Paper Project ads


Purple Paper Project – Dimetapp & Robitussin



See more Purple Paper Project ads


Purple Paper Project – French’s



See more Purple Paper Project ads


Who’s Hotter?

 

I recently posted an article about the image below, which is currently circulating around the Internet. As I mentioned in the previous post, this faux-empowerment message just ends up pitting thin girls against curvy girls, feeding the comparisons and competitions, and separating us all. As a result, we fight against each other instead of fighting against the beauty pressures that make us feel insecure in the first place. Here's the original image:

   

What's the next logical step?

   

and then what about this?

   

Haven't we all had enough? Isn't it about time that we move past the pettiness and start working together?

 

Cool Story, Babe

 

Ugh. Can't a girl enjoy a nice afternoon at the mall? It's bad enough that most stores' mirrors and lighting age us by 10 years and increase our weight by 10 pounds. It's bad enough that stores display boxes of damn hangers that talk about how skinny they are and imply how skinny we aren't. It's bad enough that we have to pass by 10-foot tall posters of nearly naked models in Victoria's Secret's windows. And it's even worse when the local Victoria's Secret is right next door to a See's candy shop. But come on. Seriously? A trip to the mall now has to include cheap insults about women being so intellectually boring that we should just get back in the kitchen? Guess we haven't come such a long way, baby ... when this kind of crap is still being sold.



Now I'm not sure what type of person would purchase this sweatshirt. Maybe the type of fine gentleman who'd also purchase Playboy cologne? Or maybe it would be the type of sell-out wife who'd wear this shirt?

 

Regardless, here's a "cool story": The next guy wearing this juvenile-not-even-close-to-witty-excuse-for-a-fashion-statement may indeed get some "babe" to make him a sandwich ... it just might be of the knuckle variety.

Real Women Have … Bodies

 

The other day, my friend shared this image on my Facebook wall. I'm sure she had good intentions, as did the creator. At first glance, it seems like a girl-power-feel-good-kind-of-message that challenges the pressure to be thin, similar to the "real women have curves" mantra made popular by the movie of the same name. It seems to be about women celebrating their curves, accepting their bodies, and not buying into the extreme dieting mentality.

 

But it's not. This image is about shaming thin women about their bodies under the guise of empowering heavier women. It's just the other side of the same coin.

 

What about women who are naturally thin? Or naturally not as curvy? Are they less hot? Are they not real women? Comparing is just one more way for us to separate ourselves.

 

Most of us struggle with our weight, so being in the public eye would most assuredly have an impact on how celebrities feel about their own bodies. Heidi Montag had 10 plastic surgeries so that she could look hot enough. Tabloid rumors have accused Nichole Ritchie and Keira Knightley of having eating disorders, and Kirsten Dunst was on the cover of Star Magazine for having one of the "worst beach bodies," so it's not as if any of them are being celebrated for their bodies at the moment. The media's pretty arbitrary anyway about what constitutes the hot-kind-of-thin vs. the anorexic-kind-of-thin. It's a fine line, and those celebrities who cross it are publicly shamed on tabloid covers. I'm sure Bettie, Shirley, Elizabeth, and Marilyn faced their share of scrutiny and pressure as well based upon the beauty standards of their time. Elizabeth Taylor, for one, suffered from both eating disorders and substance abuse. Considered by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world, she was once quoted as saying, "I don't like my voice. I don't like the way I look. I don't like the way I move. I don't like the way I act. I mean, period. So, you know, I don't like myself."


Beauty is subjective. Others' opinions about us are irrelevant -- what matters most is how we see ourselves.

 

The body snarking, the gossipy headlines about who has anorexia or who's getting fat, the who's hotter comparisons -- these all promote the age-old competition to determine the fairest of them all. And eating disorders are part of this futile attempt to fit what society deems "hot".

 

There's value in simply being who we are, whether we're thin or fat or have curves or not. So, in response to the question: "When did this become hotter than this?", here's another question: Why do we have to cut someone else down to feel better about ourselves?

This Is Your Life

 

This past Christmas morning, 8-year-old Elijah anxiously waited for his mom to return from work so they could open presents together. Donna Fountain left for her job in Brooklyn at 7:30am. She was a single mother and her hard work as a home health care worker allowed her to provide for her son -- even if it meant she had to work on Christmas Day. But soon after leaving the house, Donna was struck and killed by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street. Police found a folded and wrinkled slip of notebook paper on the 38-year-old woman's body. Donna carried it with her everywhere. On that piece of paper, Donna had written out five life goals that she had hoped to accomplish. She titled this list "My Dreams":

  • Work on my dream job.
  • Buy a house by 45.
  • Start housing for gay and lesbian teens.
  • Marry the woman of my dreams.
  • Make sure Elijah graduates from college!
 

A careless and heartless driver stole Donna's chance to see these dreams materialize. They remain immortalized in pencil on a crumpled slip of paper. Many of us have similar lists of our own, either written down or simply living in our heads. We postpone them, assuming we have plenty of time left. But this isn't always true.

 

As New Year's Day approaches and we start compiling our lists of resolutions (which are generally just variations on last year's), maybe we should think twice about our dreams for the year. Instead of the typical "lose weight," why not strive for more meaningful pursuits? Why not let Donna's dreams inspire us to live our own? Why not resolve to be the best version of ourselves? To really LIVE? And then to drag the words off the paper and turn them into action?

 

Note that nowhere on Donna's list of dreams was "Lose 20 pounds."

 

 

Source for this poster

Whorin’ Ain’t Easy

 

In pop culture, a whore is demonized -- she's a woman who sells her body for money, a prostitute. She's promiscuous and immoral. She's unclean -- she's a dirty whore, a filthy whore. She's damaged goods and the opposite of virgin. It's a bad thing to "whore yourself out" or to be anyone's bitch. A Google image search for "whore" will bring up lots of porn (so make sure your SafeSearch is on) and quite a few demotivational posters about "attention whores". The whore doesn't have much power -- she's the thing, the object, the product being used.


In contrast, pimpin' is a compliment. A pimp is cool -- he's got money, nice clothes, a fancy car, and all the whores. If you search Google images for "pimp," you'll find pictures of rappers holding wads of cash; flamboyantly-dressed guys doing "pimp walks" in fur coats, big hats, and gold chains; pimps surrounded by scantily-clad hos; and ads for MTV's "Pimp My Ride". Even the pimps' violent language against women is mainstream (e.g., "bitch-slap," "smack that ho," "you're my bitch," etc.). Pimps are celebrated -- they have money, power, and control. They represent another concept that our culture celebrates: capitalism.

 

The concept of john is neither demonized, nor celebrated -- his role is largely ignored. Boys will be boys (and some boys will be johns) who are driven to seek out sex (in secret, hidden away from wives, girlfriends, or work buddies). A john is just a nameless, faceless customer. He's not particularly shamed like the whore, even though he's vital to the transaction. A john doesn't have a strong pop cultural presence. No one's ever going to "john their ride," nor are they ever accused of "johnin' themselves out". A Google image search for "john" brings up ... just a bunch of pictures of guys named John.




Celebrate the pimp,

ignore the john,

and demonize the whore –

this is what a sexist society looks like.






Here's a real-life "Pimp & Ho Party": Teenage girls running away to escape homes filled with physical, emotional, or sexual abuse. Forced to live on the streets in bad neighborhoods and sell their bodies, because there aren't many other options. Lingering on sidewalks waiting for potential customers prowling red-light districts in search of anonymous sex. Bending into lowered passenger-side car windows to negotiate bargain-basement-blowjobs with strangers. Risking sexually-transmitted diseases, sexual assault, and violence in exchange for cash. Sharing nightly earnings and bodies with pimps or risk even more violence. Using some of the cash to buy drugs and cheap alcohol to numb the pain.


Seriously, if you think pimpin' ain't easy, you should try whorin'.


Revenge of the Nerd

 

I often write about how women can reclaim our power against a culture that tells us that our bodies are our most valuable attributes. My passion about this issue was partly due to years of being bullied about my looks (among other things) as I grew up. I was one of the unpopular kids from elementary through high school, and so being bullied was part of life. I had no idea why the other kids didn't like me, and I tried hard to figure it out. I would sit by myself outside of the library at lunchtime in my rainbow-striped top, my tan corduroy knickers that buttoned right below the knee, my burgundy knee socks, and my freshly-white-shoe-polished Payless tennis shoes, wondering why no one liked me. You'd better call Nancy Drew, because we have a mystery! My grandma told me the girls were just jealous because I was so much prettier than they were. I wish I were able to believe her, but grandmas have to say things like that.


I used to talk my mom into calling in sick for me all the time during junior high. I kept getting stomach aches right before the time we were supposed to leave for school. Concerned about my illness, my parents took me to a doctor who decided that I suffered from lactose-intolerance from the milk in my morning Cheerios. So my parents switched me to soy. No surprise – the stomach aches continued, because I wasn’t allergic to milk. I was allergic to the little shits who teased me. I was allergic to the dirty looks, the shunning, and the insults from the mean girls. I was allergic to being called ugly, smelly, and Casper because I was so pale. I was allergic to the shaming sting of cootie spray if I accidentally got too close to someone. I was allergic to being left out, to being picked last for teams, to being treated as if I were sub-human. I was allergic to no one standing up for me and to not having the tools to do it myself. Unfortunately, soy milk couldn't fix any of that.


Fast forward to my recent high school reunion. I wanted to see old friends, but I was dreading seeing the bullies who made my life hell. I was frustrated that they still had a hold on me, even as an adult. I had given them too much power for too long ... but now it was time to take it back.


As the night progressed, I finally got up the nerve to stand up for myself. I just knew I'd regret it if I didn't. So with the help of a few glasses of liquid courage, I confronted two of the mean girls and two of the mean guys. I didn't plan out exactly what I would say; I just ended up being real. I pulled each of them aside and nicely asked if I could speak to them for a moment. And one by one, I told them that they were pretty mean to me back in school, and I just wanted to know why. Was it something about me? I had spent years believing that it was me -- that I was bullied because I wasn't pretty enough, or thin enough, or simply just not enough.


And an amazing thing happened. Three out of the four bullies immediately apologized. The two guys acknowledged that they were jerks, and they both admitted that they took out their insecurities and family issues on other kids. That it had nothing to do with me. I wasn't prepared for them to be so introspective. One girl claimed that she didn't remember being bitchy to me, but she still apologized several times, hugged me, and seemed to feel guilty. The last girl just coldly stated that I was asking about something that happened many years ago, insisted that she didn't remember anything, and then reminded me again that it was many years ago.


But her response really didn't matter. None of their responses did. I confronted my bullies because I needed to stand up for myself, regardless of their reactions. And this time, I was detached enough to realize that their apologies or their denials had everything to do with them -- and nothing to do with me. When someone treats us poorly, often our first instinct is to wonder what it was about us that deserved the crappy treatment. Due to our own insecurities, we absorb their insults without considering that they actually reflect the insecurities of the other person. The worst part is when we take over the bullying ourselves.


Our early years can profoundly affect us long after we graduate. We spend less than 20 years in childhood, and another 20+ trying to undo the damage. If there’s a bright side for me, it's made me even more compassionate toward any group that's oppressed, because I know how much it hurts to be bullied and how much it sucks when no one defends you.


But the bullies aren't just in high school. The grown-up bullies have just graduated on to being mean in other ways -- to being critical and abusive partners and parents, to opposing the "homosexual lifestyle" and marriage equality, to treating other races as second-class citizens, to being intolerant and judgmental of others' religions or lack thereof, to supporting legislation that prevents women from having control over our own bodies, to treating women as dehumanized sexual objects. The media are a grown woman’s tormenters. They’re the mean girls and boys who tell us we’re ugly and fat, and that no one will like us unless we adhere to superficial beauty standards. I use my writing as a way of standing up to them.


We may have graduated from the playground, but we’re not immune to feeling bullied. The little kids inside us still want to be popular and accepted, and we don't want to be rejected. However, as grown-ups, we have more strength and resources than we had as children. We’re not the same powerless little kids. We no longer have to cry into our pillows at night. We’re old enough to fight against the bullies -- and to decide not to be bullies ourselves. We matter. We’ve always mattered, even if others were too blind or immature or insecure or heartless to recognize it. This was true when we were children, and it remains true as adults.


There will always be those who try to keep others down, but it's up to us to decide if we want to stand up to them or let them continue to victimize us. It's up to us to take our power back. And it's up to us to have the courage and compassion to stand up for others who have less power than we do.


And let me tell you -- it feels damn good to finally stand up.


Don’t Cha Trust Her

 

I found this stylish top in the Junior's section. Now why would a girl want to wear something like this? To display how competitive and untrustworthy she is? Or just to be mean and bitchy?

 


When I saw this t-shirt, I was immediately reminded of the song "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls. Granted, with their highly-sexualized image, the Pussycat Dolls are hardly models of progress, so lyrics such as theirs should come as no surprise. In case you haven't heard the song, here's the chorus:

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don't cha, don't cha, baby Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me? Don't cha, don't cha

Pop culture seems to treat petty competitiveness and insults as part of being female. The idiotic t-shirts, the man-stealing songs, the catty reality show contestants, the magazine articles about "What Makes Men Cheat?" -- they all regularly remind us that other women are threats. Until she proves she's our BFF, she's the enemy or worse -- the frenemy -- so we'd better watch our backs.


Ugly Shade of White

I grew up in the suburbs of Southern California. Early on, I learned that there were subtle rules of what constituted an acceptable skin color in a primarily-white school. And these rules were separate from racial differences -- they were the rules about what white skin was supposed to look like. In my case, I was indeed white. The problem was that I was too white. I was Casper-white, glow-in-the-dark white, butt-white ... the ugly shade of white. To the other kids, my pale skin and dark hair contrasted in a bad way. Where I was from, you were supposed to contrast in a good way, meaning blonde hair and tan (but still white) skin. I got accused of being goth (that's like emo to those of you born a little later); I wasn't, but my corpse-like skin tone was what goth kids dreamed of. The popular kids regularly sneered that I should get a tan, and damn if I didn't try.

 

I desperately wanted to be tan, because tan = pretty. Over the years I tried everything. I wore coffee-colored pantyhose under skirts and even shorts(!) on 90-degree days. I sunned myself on towels in my parents' weed-covered backyard. I over-baked in tanning beds until I got bulb-burn-stripes down my body. I broiled in the Acapulco sun like a crustacean on a BBQ until my bright red legs made standing so excruciating that I had to seek medical help. (As I was basting myself with the 0-SPF coconut oil I bought from a beach vendor, a passing woman stopped to tell me how beautiful my light skin was. How ironic.) No matter what method I tried, my skin only managed to turn from white to pink to red. And then ultimately to freckles. I just hope that I won’t develop skin cancer due to my efforts.

 

I've since given up on achieving that sun-kissed look. The sun never even hugged me, no matter how hard I chased. Apparently, he was just not that into me. He always made promises like a big tease, and then ended up burning me over and over again. Trust me -- the sun's not that hot. Even if he fulfills his promise of a glowing tan, you'd better get yourself checked out. No one wants to bring home an outbreak of melanoma. Since I kicked the sun to the clouds, I use alternative methods of tanning. I now slather or spray stinky-smelling and streaky tanning shit. Or I just wear pants or a maxi-dress. (And that way, I don't even have to shave.)

 

It hurt to be judged for being too white, and I absorbed the criticisms as much as I did the damaging rays. No girl wants to feel ugly.

Women all across the skin color spectrum are affected by beauty standards. These standards come from both the dominant culture, as well as from each minority group within. In the Hispanic culture, skin that's "too dark" isn't generally considered attractive. Darker skin indicates more Indigenous blood than the preferable Spanish European blood. I've heard several people comment about the good-looking gueros (light-skinned males and females). I've heard women gossip about their friend's new baby: "Mira la morenita, la pobrecita" (Look at the little dark one, the poor thing). The telenovelas (soap operas) popular on Spanish television channels primarily feature light-skinned actors. Skin color doesn't just matter outside of their community -- it also matters within.

In the soon-to-be-released documentary, "Dark Girls," the filmmakers examine how attitudes about skin color affect women. They focused on dark-skinned African-American women, but as I watched the preview below, I could empathize with the self-disdain. One woman talks about how she felt about her skin as a little girl: "I can remember being in the bathtub asking my mom to put bleach in the water so that my skin would be lighter and so that I could escape the feelings I had about not being as beautiful, as acceptable, as lovable."

 

We can't control how others treat us, but we can control the way we treat ourselves. Why do we keep trying to find ways to separate and judge ourselves? I was teased about being too white, so I learned to view my white skin with disdain. It's sad enough that darker-skinned minorities are discriminated against by whites based on skin color, but even sadder that some would do the same to themselves. Please note that I am not saying that being "too white" is at all comparable to the racism experienced by people for being "too dark." The only aspect I'm comparing pertains to beauty standards. Clearly, there is a long and painful history of racism and discrimination in our country. What I can relate to is how it felt to be a little girl who thought she wasn't pretty enough because her peers judged her based on an arbitrary rule about the amount of melanin in her skin. If I could've added self-tanner to my bathwater as a kid, I would've done it.

 

It's heartbreaking to think that an innocent little girl would feel so ugly that she'd want to add bleach -- or self-tanner -- to her bathwater. But it's also a reminder of how we as women don't need others to hold us down. After awhile, we learn to do it to ourselves.

   

The Ass Is Always Leaner …

 

Sara Smile … I Said SMILE, Dammit!

Several men -- all strangers -- have told me to smile over the years. At work, on the street, in a store -- I'd hear variations of: "Why aren't you smiling?", "You should smile; you'd look prettier", or just flat-out "Smile!" I assumed it was some awkward form of flirtation, so I generally managed to force out a weak attempt. But it always made me feel uncomfortable and a bit irritated.


Commanding a strange woman to smile isn't exactly the pinnacle of good manners, so why did I feel compelled to do as I was told? Am I supposed to just grin like a fool on command? Don't I have a right to have a shitty day or simply not to feel like walking around with a Stepford-wife smile perpetually glued onto my face? It always felt kind of absurd and controlling.


I hadn't given it much thought until discovering that other women deal with this crap too. Just google "men telling women to smile" to see how common it is. Contrary to what I'd assumed, this is more than just a lame pick-up line. Why would some random jackass think it's at all acceptable to tell a strange woman to smile for him like a trained chimpanzee? What right does he have to dictate to a stranger how she should behave?


Well, if he believes he's more powerful than she is, then he probably believes that he does have the right. And the woman who smiles on command, however begrudgingly, may unconsciously agree. A recent study has found that those who break conventional rules of politeness were perceived as being more powerful. Examples of "powerful" behavior included: smiling less, interrupting others, overstepping boundaries, and speaking in a loud voice. In the study, those who acted rude, inconsiderate, or overbearing were seen as more able to get people to do what they wanted, more in control, and more competent in making decisions.


What would happen if a woman acted in a similarly condescending way? How many women tell male strangers, "Smile, it can't be that bad"? If they did, would they be seen as powerful, or would they just be seen as domineering bitches? We're socialized to be sweet, polite, and nice little girls who turn into sweet, polite, and nice little ladies. We may have gained a significant amount of power in the last hundred years, but we're still expected to act in pleasing ways and smile on command no matter how powerful we are -- or else we'll face the repercussions. And what are those repercussions? Well, there's a good chance that we'd be called a bitch or a cunt for refusing, because the kind of guy who'd command a woman to smile would be the same kind of guy who'd get defensive if she didn't.


In my previous post about how the media treat female politicians, I mentioned how powerful women often face gender-based attacks, which can be based on appearance (fat, ugly), sexuality (frigid, slut), femininity (butch, ball-breaker), or character (liberal, feminist). Even actions that appear to be compliments -- such as flirtatiously telling a woman to smile -- are attempts to direct how she acts and consequently serve as attempts to undermine her power.


When men tell women to smile on command, it's a boundary violation; it's an act of arrogance and dominance. It's a way to police women's behavior by making it pleasing to men. It's the underlying expectation that women should perform for men and serve their desires.


This sense of entitlement permits men to dictate what women should do with their bodies -- whether it's smile, look sexually available, or give birth whether they want to or not.


If this study's results can be broadly applied, then we associate “power” with being inconsiderate, overbearing, and controlling as a culture. This runs contrary to how women are expected to behave (or even how decent men should behave, for that matter). Either the rest of us are going to have to start acting more obnoxiously ourselves, or we're going to have to start redefining power in less obnoxious ways. 


Maybe then I'll feel like smiling.


From the Bibs of Babes

 

I spotted these bibs at Babies"R"Us while helping my friend choose gifts for her baby shower registry. Interesting how there's no equivalent cool mom bib. Apparently, moms are just supposed to be babes, even from the perspectives of their babies. What's next: My mom's DDs make better milk than your mom's B-cups?

 

Are You a Sell-Out Sister?

 

It’s hard to be a woman. So much is expected of us: we need to be the perfect wives/girlfriends, selfless moms/friends/daughters, successful businesswomen -- all while being beautiful and thin. We’d like to think that since other women face similar challenges, that they would support us in ours. We’d like to think that we’d do the same for them. But sadly, this is often not the case. We tend to compete more than collaborate. We pick each other apart with the same critical eyes through which we see ourselves. Deep inside, we think that by knocking her down a few pegs, we might not feel so deficient in comparison. But it never works. In subtle ways, Sell-Out Sisters sabotage the collective power of us all. It’s not just the mean girls who’ll throw a fellow sister under the bus.

  30 Signs of a Sell-Out Sister:
  1. comparing and competing
  2. judging or insulting ourselves and other women
  3. accepting the media’s superficial definition of femininity
  4. minimizing our opinions
  5. judging another woman’s choice to work or stay at home with kids
  6. making snide comments about another woman’s looks
  7. supporting companies who demean women in their advertising
  8. agreeing with the media that any amount of fat is unacceptable
  9. buying into the $55 billion-dollar-a-year diet industry
  10. agreeing that physical imperfection is ugly
  11. making fat jokes or laughing at them
  12. gossiping about a woman sleeping around
  13. going to movies that treat women as primarily sex objects
  14. accepting sexism and misogyny without questioning
  15. calling other women sluts, cunts, bitches, or whores
  16. not speaking up when we’re offended or we disagree
  17. sabotaging another woman's career advancement
  18. devaluing our internal qualities
  19. interfering with other women's reproductive freedom
  20. trying to silence other women
  21. embracing the porn star/stripper conception of femininity
  22. flashing our breasts
  23. watching shows in which women compete based on looks
  24. being publicly sexual with other women merely for male attention
  25. treating ourselves as objects for men’s arousal
  26. believing that being sexy is the most important quality in women
  27. idolizing celebrities and models as beauty ideals
  28. idolizing celebrities and models as actual role models
  29. seeing beauty ideals as obtainable if only we tried hard enough
  30. buying tabloids that gossip about which celebrities have packed on the pounds

 

NOTE: NSFW image below

I had just finished writing this post when I received an email forward from someone close to me. It was a perfect example of a Sell-Out Sister. The woman who sent me this has been morbidly obese for much of her life. Since she was a child, she's been ridiculed and treated poorly due to her weight, and this treatment continued into adulthood. This makes her selling out particularly sad.

 

Here's the email:

Subject: FW: Garlic Warning!!!!! Must Read This is terrible !!!!!!!!
 
OMG...this is really terrible. And I have been touting the benefits of garlic for years!!! I hope this doesn't happen to anyone I recommended it to.
GARLIC WARNING!!
 

For years, doctors and scientists have told us that some foods are good for us, only to be told later that they bad for us, and again they tell us that some foods are bad for us, and all the time they've been good for us... and there doesn't seem to be much proof either way to suggest what is good or bad... until now, that is.

 

Garlic is definitely BAD for us if it's true that "You Are What You Eat!"

...scroll down...

 

You have been Garlic'd. Now you're it!! One rule to this game ... You CANNOT get someone who has already gotten you! So get as many people as you can! (before they get you) I got you first ... You can't get me back!

  Just imagine what women could do if we worked together instead of against each other.

Damn – That’s Some Hot Chocolate!

Call me uptight, but I would never have sex with my chocolate or my broom – regardless of what the commercials would have one believe. Each 30-second spot shows women seeking out romantic relationships with these and other inanimate objects.
Women seem to particularly enjoy making out with chocolate. In our image-and-diet-obsessed culture, indulgences like chocolate are forbidden. It's a guilty pleasure that we should have in secret. One must not show off that she engages in such sinful activities lest she be deemed a fat gluttonous pig. Eating chocolate is our dirty little secret, but oh how it pleasures us. We become practically insatiable, but then the shame sets in and we abstain for awhile.
What do you think happens when we're culturally pressured to be chocolate virgins? We turn into chocolate whores, of course.

Seriously, Dove®. Just because I love your chocolate, it doesn’t mean I love your chocolate.

I’m even less likely to love sweeping the floor. This relationship is a little different than the one we have with chocolate though. It doesn't matter that it's 2011 -- in the world of commercials, cleaning is still women's work. When we’re not using Bounty® to cheerfully wipe up the bounty of milk that our 5-year-olds spill all over the kitchen floor, we're being romanced by our cleaning products. According to the tagline, “Swiffer® gives cleaning a whole new meaning.” Apparently, that meaning implies that we like to get dirty with our cleaning products.

(Looks like this woman can’t handle their differences, so she leaves the broom for a Swiffer®. Although the broom bristles at first, he ends up replacing his human female with a rake. Another meaningless relationship left in the dust.)
If women are so hard up for companionship that we’re hooking up with our brooms, then we’re some pretty desperate housewives indeed. Who’d heavy pet her Swiffer® WetJet? Who’d think her Swiffer® Duster could ever pass muster? Who’d aim for no deeper than her Swiffer® Sweeper? Who’s that lady?
In the context of this absurd alternate universe in which human females choose common household products as mates, I suppose I would have to choose the chocolate over the broom. At least chocolate is sweet and rich, caring for my heart with antioxidants and getting me giddy with endorphins. I could just put a piece between my lips, savor it and let the smooth creaminess slowly melt across my tongue and fill my mouth with pleasure until it becomes a part of me. Ahhh ... how romantic.
Can a broom do all that? Hell, not even Swiffer® can.

Newsstand by Me

What should a woman’s day consist of? More importantly, what is a woman’s true essence? According to magazines, we should aim for glamour and allure, as these are what will offer us the most value in life. Psychology today tries to put us in touch with the self. It tells us that we’re wired to look to our parents and our family circles for details about navigating the world, or simply our town and country. They teach us that being a woman requires us to look pretty and have good housekeeping skills. If our mothers jones for cellulite prevention and physical perfection, chances are that we will too. They ready us for the beauty and fashion magazines to reinforce this notion by taking over as both car and driver. They make our vanity fair game.
Magazines offer highlights into how our lives can be lucky as long as we take the right road and track. To them, this means being in style, in vogue, much like a cosmopolitan New Yorker would be. It means being in shape like Ms. Muscle and Fitness and perpetually seventeen years old. It means being a sassy mademoiselle. It means being thin and beautiful enough to deserve a playboy* who will offer us food and wine, travel and leisure, better homes and gardens, and the big O in his penthouse* – maybe even turn us into brides. This is supposedly the dream written about in each Saturday evening post in any ladies’ home journal and every wish upon a star.
But it’s all a mirage. Magazines waste so much of our time with mindless entertainment weekly, monthly, and daily. The popular science of marketing ensures they make smart money with the advertising age, striving for consumer reports that signify people are letting the ads in magazines and TV guide them in their purchases. And we readers digest it all.
The maxim* that you can’t believe everything you see is true. It’s real simple – magazines offer spin. From across the nation, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, there are thousands of women who are mad about the endless pressure to look perfect. We need to stand up and bitch, to say it’s not OK, because seriously, the stuff* we put up with is just bazaar.
(* Don't worry -- these link to Wikipedia pages, so they're SFW.)

Dumb Acronym Meets Naïveté

H. er

U. ndermining

S. hirt

B. rings

A. ssholes

N. ot

D. ream guys






Buy me a coffeeBuy me a coffee