"I don't think that being a strong person is about ignoring your emotions and fighting your feelings. Putting on a brave face doesn't mean you're a brave person. That's why everybody in my life knows everything that I'm going through. I can't hide anything from them. People need to realise that being open isn't the same as being weak."

- Taylor Swift

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Female Sexuality vs. Male Desire

Now Playing: Withdraw by Kimbra (I can't withdraw your heart from mine)

I've been reading and researching and studying and thinking about this a lot and I've come to the conclusion: most of the taboos of female sexuality stems from a confusion between female sexuality and male desire.

This is a rather simplistic, cisgender way of seeing things, but bear with me.

Think about it. We accept and understand that women have sex, but 'too much' (whatever the hell that means) or starting 'too early' or 'too late' - are all taboos. We're beginning to understand female sexual pleasure, and the right for all women to sexual pleasure...but women still aren't allowed to actively seek it, or include sexual desire as a reason for wanting a partner, or worse, wanting sex without wanting a partner. Bisexuality, lesbianism, watching porn, self pleasure - anything that involves 'women' and 'pleasure' but not necessarily 'men' is immediately stigmatized, even though we know that guys can be gay, bi, watch porn and jerk off and we're somehow meant to be okay with that when they're all dirty little secrets for women. We're obsessed with virginity and look down on women who are interested and curious and open about sex - sex, for women, is all about 'losing' something, 'giving' things, having things 'taken', 'letting' someone do something to you. The connection between women and sex and babies is obvious, natural and beautiful, but severely overstated in a world where working women is empowering, a legal right and often an economic necessity and childrearing is no longer the sole purpose of a woman's life, or solely a woman's occupation. The idea that a woman's sexuality is solely to continue the species may seem ridiculously anachronistic, but it manifests in a phenomenon that continues today: we don't see women as sexual beings, but rather as sexual objects. Because we confuse female sexuality with male desire.

I'm all for sexual expression and freedom, but the ways for women to express themselves sexually is less about what they want and how they feel about themselves, but as ways to garner a response out of men. Sexuality and desire are two totally separate things. Sexuality is innate - we are all born sexual beings  (unless you're asexual) and it doesn't matter what you look like or what kind of relationships you have or your gender identification or orientation or whatever - it is part of who you are no matter how people react to that. It's kind of like being gay - you'll always be gay whether you embrace it, deny it, whether you have straight partners or gay partners...it's just part of who you are, like your eye colour. You'll still want and feel and desire and experience whether people like you or not - you don't become an asexual alien when you're not getting any attention and suddenly become a sexual being when someone's staring at your boobs. Being desirable is distinct in that being desirable means that you have, or acquire, traits that make you appealing to society, to a particular social group, or just to a particular person; it's less about you and more about them. Despite forty years of feminism, we fail to recognise women as sexual beings with individual sexual curiosities and preferences and desires; we only see them in a sexual context when they are desirable, and when a woman is being 'desirable' we confuse it with being 'sexual'. Sexuality is expression; desirability is a performance. It's all art, but it's not one and the same.

Sex is falsely seen as something that only boys want, and so the idea that a woman doesn't 'let' a guy have sex with her, but 'wants' a guy to have sex with her is still social taboo, even despite anyone with the most basic knowledge of biology understanding that women have hormones and nerve endings too. Girls accept from a very young age that teenage boys are totally ruled by hormones and in the absence of an outlet, they'll create one - porn, self pleasure, all of us girls are thoroughly aware. But this same kind of understanding and knowledge isn't really translated to the majority of boys, who are somehow threatened by the idea of girls getting pleasure from themselves or from women or from any other source that isn't men. It's a result of patriarchy.

Which is why there is so much hype about what girls and women wear - it's because we immediately associated 'looking good' and 'feeling good about one's appearance' to sexual availability, which may or may not be the intent. This is the theory behind our rape-positive culture - we somehow think that women set themselves up for crimes by acting or dressing a certain way, and constantly push women to hide themselves and feel ashamed of their bodies to discourage the sexual desires of men. I wear what I want, what I think looks good on me, and what I like - that's the only criterion for the cloth that I put on my body. Dressing up is not inviting anything, and there is a difference between thinking a girl is pretty in a dress or that the colour of her shirt sets off her eyes and raping someone you thought was dressed like a slut. Dressing like a slut - whatever that is - is not a crime. Rape is.

When I was growing up girls who weren't considered 'pretty' or 'popular' not only never got boyfriends, but were never considered to be 'worthy' of boyfriends, and we were constantly made to feel guilty about wanting relationships and intimacy. If you ask pre-teens and teenagers, they have this idea in their head - spread by media, movies and porn - that only attractive people are allowed to have sex, and once you've had babies or you get old or you're just born ugly, you've lost the licence. The emphasis on female physical appearance and the connection between sexual desire and physical appearance was bewildering, and extremely humiliating. It still feels like opportunities to express myself is some kind of prize for conforming to ridiculous standards of normality and beauty and popularity - becoming someone I will never be.

The sex ed system never told us explicitly that girls feel sexual desire and pleasure - it was something we figured out between the lines, and then confused with all the taboos and stereotypes surrounding women and sex. It was implied that we would feel 'weird' or 'strange'; never 'good' or 'normal' or 'nice'. Quoting Princesses and Pornstars by Emily Maguire:

I was so desperate for assurance that my desire was normal and didn't mean I was destined to be pregnant at sixteen and dying of AIDS by twenty, that I put my faith in a Year 9 Health and Development class at my school. I was disappointed. Female sexual development, according to my teacher, was an embarrassing, uncomfortable process, but it would allow me one day to experience the miracle of motherhood. I learned about ovulation and menstruation. I learned that the appearance of pubic hair on a girl signals an increase in androgen levels, and that tender breasts and swollen nipples indicate a rise in estrogen. I also learned that testosterone was surging through my body and might cause me to feel 'strange'.  
Boys would not feel 'strange': they would feel horny. They would be distracted by sexual thoughts and feelings. Their genitals would engorge with blood for no reason at all. They would feel a deep, low ache which could only be eased by sexual release. They would have erotic dreams from which they would wake to find they had messed up their sheets and pyjamas. I am a boy, I thought, my face hot and my thighs pressed together. 

The media is training men to consider women in a sexual context purely for their physical appearance - academically, professionally, women are now becoming 'people' and not just 'women', but in a sexual context it's all about what this looks like, what that looks like - we are judged not by what we want and what we can offer in a relationship, but what makes us aesthetically pleasing to the tastes of men. Magazines are constantly bombarding us with 'What MEN Want' and 'What boys have to say about THIS' and 'NO REALLY, THIS IS WHAT HE REALLY WANTS'...what about us? Huh? What about me? Men tell us not to wear heels and not to wear makeup not because it might be sexist or degrading for women to have to hide their natural states, but 'because we don't like it' or 'we don't understand why' - what if I like pink lipstick, huh? What if I like being taller than 5'3" occasionally, huh? Why do men automatically assume that everything we do to make ourselves look nice is about them and not about feeling good (or conforming to ridiculously high standards set by severely insecure popular girls)? We're judged by how well we can kiss people and how secure we can make our psychopathic jealous boyfriends feel and we're never taught how to ask for what we want, to speak up for what we do and don't like. And it's because people assume that female sexuality is intrinsically linked to the desires of men.

Men are also fed a false depiction of normal female physical appearance - to a greater extent than girls. As much as I perve on perfect six packs like any other teenage girl, I am under no illusion of how 'normal' guys look - imperfect. None of the guys I've liked have had ripped abs or perfect bodies or breathtakingly amazing faces, and yet we're constantly compared to images that girls are slowly beginning to realize are fake and boys clearly haven't seen the light yet. Feminists are constantly trying to promote the 'real women have curves' message in a desperate attempt to combat eating disorders that are killing young women at an alarming rate, and yet you ask a guy what he thinks is 'curvy'...it's just big boobs without the soft tummy and pudgy arms and fat thighs that come with adipose tissue in the chest area. Normal people aren't perfect, and yet there are disturbing statistics of men expecting women to conform to the physical standards set by figures in popular culture - unhealthily thin, with unnaturally large this and unusually small that, everything plucked and painted even when they're going 'all natural'; living up to these standards is unhealthy, sexist, degrading, and ridiculously time consuming and expensive. Studies show that teenage boys really have no idea what women look like, and are supposed to look like, and aren't always shown the real and healthy distinction between what a normal, bare-faced, non-airbrushed girl looks like compared to a glamorously anorexic model or a surgically mutilated pornstar. The fact that I don't look like the bodies splashed across magazine covers for us to pick on is a good thing, not a bad thing.

Girls are constantly taught what Emily Maguire calls 'defensive sex education'. We're taught that sex is a bad thing that leads to pregnancy and fucked up feelings and boys taking advantage of us. We're taught that if we don't dress right or if we think about it too much or if we're too eager we'll get raped or coerced and get some kind of disease. We're taught that boys can't control themselves and it's up to us to set up boundaries, to insist on standards and rules that are imposed onto us by society - by a society that has no understanding or sympathy for female sexuality. We're not taught that even though sex is heavily tied to emotions for girls and that boys can take advantage of our vulnerabilities girls can also be curious and be affected by the cocktail of hormones of adolescence without the shame, guilt, bewilderment and embarrassment that is forced upon us.

There are exceptions, of course, to this misunderstanding. The first person who really accepted - or actually, kind of assumed - that I had some kind of curiosity about sex and relationships was a guy, and I think because guys our age are trained to be so terrified of babies and parenting and pregnancy that they're not as likely to link sexuality with babies as much as the older generations, or the faithful worshippers of patriarchy, or other girls. But a few enlightened guys doesn't lift the pressure and insecurity and misunderstandings about being a girl. Exceptions to the rule are still...exceptions. And exceptionally hard to find.

A lot of the pressure for girls to be perfect comes from...well, girls - yes, even straight ones. The bitchiness and jealousy and hierarchy of teenage girls is a toxic blend of self hate and insecurity and pushing people down to get a moment of glory at the top. But the pressure also comes from boys, from potential partners, who have been denied the understanding of women and of female sexuality as it really is, and so react negatively to something that is an intrinsic part of being a woman, being a person. Have we really moved on from the housewives and baby-makers of the 50s? Not really. Not until people learn the difference between female sexuality and male desire and remove the stigmas and stereotypes of both.

journeys: the creative process.

Now Playing: The Outside by Taylor Swift (I can still see you, this ain't the best view, on the outside looking in)

I am in the process of uploading yet another feminist rant (it's all coming out, all these convoluted half-formed ideas are all slotting into place) but I've always wanted to share the creative process - how I create things.

I've always believed that people - especially women - are designed to create. Our world has become so heavily based on destruction - destroying things, people, places, identities, cultures, religions - instead of evolving and creating and recreating. I love art because I create things - something is there, of my own doing, of my own work and effort and passion and gifts, that wasn't there before, and would never be there if not for me. Call it a poem, a blog post, a book, an essay. Later I might call it love, marriage, a child. I want my life to be about creating.

The part I love best about writing is the creative process. It takes time and love and energy and effort - which is why I don't like in-class essays.

An essay, for me, starts with an idea. I'm not one of those people who can read anything and not have any opinions on it. I tend to gravitate towards gendered readings using feminist theory, because that's what I'm most familiar with, but I also write about Christian existentialism, the impact of patriarchy and Judeo-Christian values, the use of micro narrative and the representation of the subaltern in post-colonial literary theory...I'll give anything a go. It takes me a few days sometimes to nut out a proper thesis, but once I've got my thesis I'm good to go.

The first stage of writing an essay is planning - planning planning planning. I went from TOTALLY HATING PLANNING to TOTALLY LOVING PLANNING. I used to just work from my thesis but I found I wasted a lot of time writing lots and lots of really bad drafts and annoying my teachers to no end, so I started planning out paragraphs in dot points and wrestling with ideas with my teachers. This time I was too lazy and loquacious to go dot pointy so I just wrote a very short essay with no evidence that was a huge brainstorm and plan all in one, and then as I was writing my real essay I checked through all the points I had come up with and backed it up with evidence.

And then I reread. And reread. And reread. And reread. Until three in the morning.

That might not have been such a good idea.

For blog posts I normally read something or talk about something or something will just occur to me and BAM! I'm thinking about what to write on my blog. I think about it a lot when I'm alone or...bored in class...and I write down a lot of things in my...notebook that I'm supposed to be making psych notes in...

Then when I get hold of a computer I type it up, review it, click publish! Bingo! But the creative process is always there - I don't just plonk down, write some shit, and then forget that I'm a blog mistress. Finding new material is easy for me, but it's ongoing. There is just so much stuff to write about.

Poems are strange. I can spend weeks working on a poem that never comes into being. Sometimes poems literally take five seconds to scribble down. Sometimes I'll get an idea at school and I'll just write and rewrite it over and over and over, each draft slightly different and more revised than the previous. And then I get onto my blog and make even more edits.

But the creative process of poems - inspiration, etc - is all on mah poetry page.

When people tell me that they don't like writing and don't understand why I like writing, it's because they a) don't see the value in the final product, but more importantly, they don't see the beauty of the creative process. You know when you meet artists and they're constantly drawing, sketching, taking pictures, thinking about what to paint next? I know what that's like. It's all consuming. Everything is something to write about, something to paint with words. It's impossible to describe...it's like being in love. I can't help it, I can't resist it, and I totally, completely, irrationally love it.

Which is why I'm a blogger with 1000+ posts. Which is why I love writing essays. Which is why I love reading and thinking and creating and exploring. It's through my writing that I've learned the wisdom behind the cliche of 'it's the journey, not the destination'

Monday, September 03, 2012

depression.

Now Playing: Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars (I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'd never let you go)

The reason why my blog is so chatty and personal is that I'm the kind of person who needs to talk - a lot - to get through things, to heal. I found this out the hard way - during a time when I didn't have many friends, when I was lonely and isolated and had to go through absolutely everything life threw at me, big and small, all on my own...it slowly pushed me over the edge. Even now I get very edgy when I feel like I can't talk to anyone about something. I've also felt like, throughout my whole life, I've become such a complex and weird and generally messed up person that it takes a very long time to explain myself to people - that is if I even understand myself fully, which is probably not the case. My blog...is a good place to do that.

I've always been very open in discussing my medical condition on this blog, but perhaps I have been slightly less open about discussing my mental illness.

From about eleven to about fourteen I went through varying stages of depression - from just the normal pre-teen hormonal stuff and the result of an increase in the intensity of the bullying that has been with me for basically my entire schooling to feeling utterly useless, waking up every day not knowing what life was all about, thinking that if I ended it all nobody would miss me and I should probably stop taking up space. Horrible, horrible thoughts like that.


There were lots of causes for my depression - part of it was just growing up, and all the hormonal nastiness of it all. I think there was a very important warning sign that I missed there - my heavy, infrequent, extremely painful periods, but because periods were so heavily stigmatized and I'd already been bullied so much about virginity and tampons and periods I was too afraid to talk about it. And I had no one to talk about it with. Even now I am very affected by PMS (do not come near me when I am late. I am a fucking psycho.) and by mood swings, which have had a detrimental impact on my self esteem, on my emotions, and on my relationships with other people.

Another thing was bullying. Bullying is not the big punch up that it's made out to be by the media and by bumbling teachers who keep trying to make things better by countless useless anti-bullying campaigns - at least not for girls, and at least not in my experience. It's a mind-fucking game of verbal abuse, ostracization, social isolation, the stigmatization of someone's traits and interests and opinions and the targeting of one or two specific vulnerabilities - in my case, my needle phobia - mostly for the entertainment of people who couldn't understand me or were afraid of me. I spent much of my childhood alone, with few friends - hiding in toilets, wandering around, talking to myself, drifting from clique to clique, having to swallow my pride and let my 'friends' hurt me just so they wouldn't kick me out.

But the biggest thing was having to hide so much of myself - the shame, the weirdness, the fear of not being accepted. I couldn't really get close to anyone because I didn't understand them and they didn't understand me, and there was so much about myself - so many feelings and emotions and experiences and desires and dreams - that I just couldn't articulate to the people I grew up with, and when I did it was always met with a negative reaction.

Now I identify as a late bloomer in that I was kind of late in getting into the whole boys and sex and kissing and all that jazz than other girls, but when I was younger I was definitely developing much earlier than some of my peers - or maybe my peers just never let on. I was eleven when I first got my period and it was a dirty little secret - nobody knew who had their period or what they did or whatever. There were only a few cubicles in the girls toilets with sanitary bins and if you were caught waiting for one of those cubicles when another cubicle was free...big trouble. Guys would open up my bag and search for pads - actually, they were probably looking for condoms - and PMS was treated simultaneously as an infectious disease (not true) and as something I was 'just making up' (DEFINITELY not true).

But being part of an early bloomer meant that all the hormones started kicking in early, too - I loved boys and I was curious about everything about boys and blah blah. Girls found that downright creepy and I was constantly made to feel ashamed for liking people, because I wasn't good enough - only pretty girls were allowed to have boyfriends. If a guy found out that I liked him they would burst our laughing and/or be utterly disgusted - which wasn't, you know, very encouraging when one is shy and in love and ELEVEN.

My reputation and my self esteem kind of went hand in hand in the last few years of primary school. I knew I wasn't pretty, and whilst I wasn't exactly too pleased with the body parts I ended up with I didn't really understand why my looks were somehow my fault, and how that justified people not liking me/not going out with me/picking on me. I was the first to start dabbling in makeup, especially when I started getting acne, and that combined with my loud 'fuck you' attitude got me the slut reputation. Which I also don't understand seeing as we were such small town kids that if none of the boys at school were interested I wasn't really getting any boy action and everyone knew that. But now I know that the slut label is less about what you actually do and more about what people imply from your perceived 'bad' behaviour. I didn't know that then.

I was obsessed with trying to find ways to express myself, to be different, to be special, in a place where I was so often overlooked in favour of pretty people who could outrun me ten times over - even though I knew that would make me get picked on even more. I would wear my hair down even though girls with long hair were meant to have our hair up. I wore knee high socks with purple hearts on them, and shoes with skull motifs. I wore increasingly heavy makeup and became a serial flirt. The teachers were fuming over what were extremely petty challenges to authority, and my classmates were scandalized. But it was the only way, before my blog, to show people who I was, that I wasn't like the rest of them, that I was different.

So it was a combination of bullying and not fitting in that led to ridiculously low self esteem around this time, too. I never felt pretty, and in a society where a woman's worth is based so heavily on physical appearance this can do crazy things to your emotions and your attitudes when you're young and impressionable. I wanted more than anything to be attractive, to be desirable, for someone to tell me that I was pretty and wanted, and to mean it. I felt like I was being judged for things I couldn't control, that I was a victim of my own intelligence and my inability to do things that were more commonly accepted.

I clung onto the vain hope that high school would somehow be AMAZING. I think I knew in the back of my head it wouldn't be, but I used it as an escape, to think about how wonderful high school would be, that maybe I'd be accepted and desirable and popular. I was a weak and superficial kid, but I was broken down by bullying and low self esteem and the beginnings of depression. High school wasn't amazing. I threw any social status I had out the window by skipping a grade. I found it so hard to make and maintain friendships. One of my best friends broke my heart and it took me so long to get over it. There was still uniform, there were still teachers, there were still rules, there were still limits on how I could express myself - even though I was free from stupid hairstyle rules or makeup bans or no hat no play. The disillusionment killed me.

My depression hit the lowest point in year eight. I had gained quite a lot of weight by then and I hated how I looked, I was ashamed of how I felt, I would irrationally fall in love with total assholes and then feel like shit when I got kicked to the curb and I had nobody to talk to.

Depression is hard to explain or describe. It's hard to pinpoint when you get depressed and when you pull out of it. For the most part, people who knew me then tell me that they didn't know I was depressed, or don't believe me when I say I was depressed.

There are lots of myths surrounding depression: the biggest one is that you need some kind of 'justification' - death of a family member, abusive household, just lost your job, post natal hormonal shit...whilst some kinds of depression can be linked to circumstance and big life events, most of the feelings and emotions of depression are irrational and aren't related to having, or not having, certain things. All the money in the world couldn't solve my depression. I'd just go from being a working-class depressed person to a rich depressed person.

The second myth is that if people are 'okay', they aren't 'depressed' - that depression robs you of your ability to act in a socially acceptable manner. I'd argue that depression makes you more aware of social convention, and you follow them more strictly out of fear, shame, guilt, etc. Nobody knew I was depressed when I was. I remember trying so hard to hide it but being unable to not hide it.

There are loads of others, but they were the two main ones that I was faced with when I was depressed.

Depression is so heavily stigmatized it's hard to get people to take you seriously. People think you're overreacting, 'just growing up', or being ungrateful. Unhappiness, in our society obsessed with material possessions, is so heavily tied up with what you do or do not have - unhappiness for no apparent reason, unexplained depression, is just a mind fuck for most people. This is especially the case when people think you 'have everything' - and the only way you can actually say that about anyone is by not taking their perspective, not considering their emotions or values, and by sweeping all their traumatic experiences and fears and etc under the carpet. This is what people did to me. On the surface, I wasn't starving, I wasn't pregnant, I wasn't poor, I wasn't dumb, and I wasn't going to die of an incurable disease. But I was deeply, deeply unhappy.

Being Asian compounded the stigmatism - nobody wants to have the kid who's messed up. Depression and mental illnesses is 'just a stage', or the result of 'bad parenting' or 'lack of discipline' - or worse, 'not having a good family'. There's very little support or understanding within the Asian community of mental illnesses, and it's a major loss of face. It makes the guilt and the shame of being a person, and being a person with depression, just that much worse.

And so you hide it. You spend so much energy pretending to be happy, telling people you're okay. You wait for someone to see past the charade and really care about how you're feeling, but nobody ever does. You wonder why you can't feel genuinely happy and why the littlest things make you feel so amazingly shit, and you feel guilty because you know you have so much and yet you can't make yourself feel good about anything.

The hardest part for me was the feeling that nobody cared, which was very heavily linked to the feeling that nobody understood. A life time of being isolated, a loner, of not being popular or particularly desirable had led me to think that nobody gave a damn whether I lived or died and so there was just no point in going through the motions when I found it so hard to find the joy in life. When I was at my lowest points I half-heartedly attempted to harm myself or take my own life, and I remember vividly what was going through my head: this is the only way to make a point. This is the only way I'll be taken seriously. This is the only way people will realize how badly I needed help. This is the only way to make people feel bad for what they've done to me. This is the only way.

Depression was something I had to deal with myself. I was never officially diagnosed or treated with a mental disorder - never had the drugs or the support or just the acknowledgement that I was going through tough times. It could have gotten worse; it could have been longer or harder, it could have ended with a mental breakdown or even worse...

Fortunately, my depression didn't reach really really dark places, and I'm a tough cookie. Even though I cry easily, throw lots of tantrums and get wild crazy mood swings, I'm much tougher than I look. My medical experience has taken me to some very dark places and put me through enormous amounts of physical pain and psychological pressure, and that really toughened me up. A lifetime of being bullied and isolated also prepared me for some hard times I had to face utterly alone. But I know what it's like to go to places you don't want to go, and to feel like you'll never shake off the blues.

There's no definitive end to depression, and just because you're 'no longer depressed' doesn't mean you don't get hurt or upset or angry or just down and moody - I still do, and that's okay. But the first time you feel genuinely happy again, when you start to see the joy and delight in the littlest things...it was euphoric. I felt human again, just knowing that I could feel happy, feel optimistic, be fully appreciative of the many things and opportunities and blessings that I have. That recovery is not specifically linked to what you do or do not have, but that does have an impact on the things that triggered depression in the first place.

High school was liberating in a sense that having your period didn't make you a witch and whilst sexual desire and pleasure is still a social taboo for women, at least being physically developed is less of an issue. I don't have many friends but the friends I do have are amazingly supportive and I love them dearly. There's still bullying, there's still ostracization, there's still loneliness, but I know there's always people to talk to, chat to, email...and I'm just a stronger, older, better person now.

Self esteem and body image issues is a major problem in a society where women are constantly pressured to conform to the ridiculously high and unhealthy standards set by catwalk models and pornstars, and in a society where men are subconsciously trained to desire women who aren't normal, aren't natural, aren't healthy. It's only really this year that I've been able to look in the mirror and say 'you know what? You look okay' - this is the first year that I've pulled apart perfect from pretty and realized that I'll never be perfect but I can be pretty to some people's eyes, and definitely to my eyes if I try hard enough. I've learned to love my body for all its quirks, all its battlescars, for everything its been through and all the feelings and sensations that it gives me.

I know some feminists reject the idea that self esteem should be based on other people's opinions, but we are social animals who desire social and sexual interaction and so our self esteem and personal opinion will always be informed, at least partially, by what other people think of you. This is not necessarily a bad thing, although it can be - as I found out when I was younger and I was totally rejected because I didn't conform to some unattainable 'norm'.

An attachment to societal attitudes and expectations stems from an insecurity that we will never be accepted and we will never find someone unless we conform to what is expected of us. I was severely impacted by this insecurity - I had a genuine fear that I would live out my life with no friends and no lovers; I had seen this happen to better people than I ever will be and I was terrified of the prospect. That insecurity crippled me, weakened me, undermined what everyone now considers to be my strong personality - but in the end, my eccentricity had to win that battle. I simply couldn't do it, and my fear that my lack of conformity would make me be alone and lonely was replaced by an even greater fear that I would surround myself with friends have make relationships with people who didn't know me and therefore couldn't love me - that was a bewilderingly scary thought, the idea of living with someone and being surrounded by people that I had to hide things from. And I knew I was going down that path - when I was eleven I said 'yes' to a guy who "asked me out" (c'mon, it doesn't count when you're eleven!) even though I didn't like him and wasn't attracted to him - and the weirdness of being in a situation when you're expected to be close to someone you have absolutely nothing in common with was bad when you're eleven but worse when you're sixteen. The insecurity and the isolation was bad, but suppressing so much of myself...that was even worse. This year was the first year I thought 'fuck it' and endeavoured in all things to be fearless; to be myself. And even though I had steeled myself for another year of solitude, I've found people who love me for who I am, and that's the biggest ego boost of all. For people to say that I'm weird and pretty, not either or. For people to think that I'm beautiful not because I look like some supermodel, but because I smile at them every day and I'm not afraid to present myself to the world the way I like to. This is the first year that someone that I've liked - and thought was way out of my league - wanted to spend time with me, get to know me, be close to me. And yeah, weird convoluted things happen, but I've had all these emotions and experiences that everyone used to tell me I wasn't worthy of, and would never get. Well, suck it. It happened. I'm not the ogre you made me out to be.

I'm not an expert on depression - I only know of my own experiences, what I went through. My depression was heavily tied to my self esteem, to body image, to bullying and to hormones and to being isolated. Emotions impact everyone differently.

Depression is not something you fully shake off - it just goes into remission. It might come back; it's definitely heightened my emotions, made me a little more sensitive. I've been actively working to keep myself in a good frame of mind, and part of doing that is just being with people, talking to people, taking time out when I need to be alone, and blogging. I started my Thousand Thousand Fearless Things lists not because I thought you guys needed to know every weird thing I notice in my daily life, but because I was beginning to lose the magic of the little things, and that's the first sign of slipping back into depression, for me. Making myself think about all the little silly things that made me happy, all the little trivial petty pedantic things that we so often ignore and forget...it has really helped me to see the brighter side of things even when I'm stressed and tired and on edge. I haven't considered myself depressed for a couple of years now but I'm very aware that it might come back, and I'm very aware of the consequences of depression.

The reason why I'm going on this very tangential spiel is that recently someone close to us took his own life, and everyone is very lost and confused and guilty. I know what it's like to be in a dark place - although I will never dare to assume that I understood exactly what he was going through - and emotional disorders, like sex and every other taboo, are only exacerbated by fear and ignorance and silence. I'm not saying I'm a better person that he is because I pulled through and he didn't - I'm just saying that depression and mental disorders and big emotions and suicide are there, here, everywhere, whether we like it or not, and we all have to do our part in managing our own mental health, and in helping people to deal with the ups and downs of life. Because even though there are drugs and research and statistics - none of this matters when you're in those dark, frightening places. The worst part was having no one to talk to, and not being allowed to talk. I just can't help but wonder how many lives we could improve, and how many lives we could save, if these topics were approached with compassion and sincerity and kindness and proactive action rather than fear and contempt and denial.

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #71

Now Playing: Moving to Mars by Coldplay (they'll be tearing us apart, maybe moving us to Mars)

#633: Just casually taking...four hours to reply to an email...(I do boast of having a super fast email turnover, but only if it's little things like moderating comments or e-chatting. But I procrastinate like any other human being)

#634: Hot oil massages and long steamy baths

#635: It is absolutely hilarious how my hits have skyrocketed since I started talking about sex. Say what you will about sexy times, the age old saying is true: sex really does sell. 

#636: Nutmeg and milk scrub from Crunchy Betty. Baby bum skin. ILY. 

#637: Laziness is a good thing - as a result of being too lazy to take all the jackets I wear on the way to school home my locker has kind of become an extension of my wardrobe. The result? RAINCOATS FOR ALL MY FRIENDS!!!

#638: Walking home in the middle of a storm. Not fun. Watching heavy rain go to CRASHING ERMEGERD MAY KILL SMALL RODENTS WITH BRUTE FORCE RAIN the second I get into the house...pretty cool....

#639: The funny looks people get when I and two guys get onto a train and start loudly talking about sexual revolutions, US politics and global economics. Because we sexy like that. 

#640: Gay marriage, abortion and rape discussions in psychology. Irrelevant, but interesting. GUYS ARE SO MUCH FUN TO TALK TO I HAVE NO IDEA WHY GIRLS ARE SO SCARED OF THEM. 

#641: I guess I should have expected that a book called 'Princesses and Pornstars' might attract some attention. 


Sunday, September 02, 2012

trypanophobia.

I have a severe needle phobia, also known as trypanophobia.

Now, most people I know aren't too fond of needles and injections, but I'm the only person I know who is actually rendered catatonic.

If you really want to know, at the prospect of needles, or when someone sticks needles in their skin and makes me look, I just freeze. I clench up and I stare at nothing. If you talk to me I won't respond, although I can hear you. I flinch if you touch me and my hands are in fists and I'm shaking and crying.

Firstly, I just don't like the sensation of injections. For me it's unbearably painful, especially those cervical cancer shots we got in year seven. I have a very low pain threshold and whilst I'm very good at dealing with aches and pains I can't bear sharp stabbing pain. I hate the feeling of accidentally pricking myself with a needle and just anything to do with a needle touching or penetrating my skin makes me crawl.

Secondly, I associate injections and all of the stuff associated with injections with my many medical scares - moments of pain, fear, impending death. It's not something many teenagers have to think about on a regular basis, so people don't understand the depth of my fear of needles. Everything I hate about hospitals and surgeries and pain and fear is channeled into my fear of needles.

Thirdly, I was bullied a lot towards the last years of primary school, when people would take off their student councillor badges and corner me and stick them into my arms if I ever tried to stand up for myself, or if I threatened to dob them in for something, or if they wanted me to do something I didn't want to do. I would hide in the girls toilets as the boys stood just outside the door with their badges out. Once someone held my arm down as they put the needle of their badge through the first layer of skin on my finger.

Some people think it's funny to see my reaction when they stab themselves with needles, or threaten me with needles. Some people think I'm being attention seeking and try to 'correct' my reaction. I don't give a fuck what people think. This is my phobia, this is how I react. Show me some fucking respect.

So when I am catatonic, I remember that. I remember being five and frightened, in hospital for what I thought was the first time. I remember screaming in terror as half a grade came towards me with needles. I remember the dread and pain of all those shots we got in year twelve. I remember the countless health scares, the time when I staggered into mum's bedroom and screamed in pain as a recently snapped lead from my pacemaker lodged into my muscles. I remember my surgery two years ago, hugging dad and not having that surety that I would see him again, thinking I was going to die of a morphine headache, the pain and immobility after the surgery. These are not pleasant memories to relive, and none of you have got anything on that.

So don't tell me I'm overreacting. I am not fucking overreacting. I've been through things you can't even begin to comprehend. Yes. I'm terrified of needles. I have good reason to be.

the stuff that makes me, me.

Now Playing: I Don't Understand Job by Garfunkel and Oates (I'm the messed up child of a baby boomer, I was in the gifted class but a total late bloomer)

I may be freaking some of you out with my sudden rages of FEMINISM and SEX and ALL THAT OTHER STUFF WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT BUT FUCK IT I'M TALKING ABOUT IT ANYWAY.

The reason why this is so sudden is that I just go through different stages in blogging. If you flip through I go on poem sprees, then lots of introverted reflective stuff, then big political pieces, then all this shit about my hair...this is just where I am at the moment.

Another reason for this is that I've had these ideas developing for a long time - I am a teenager, after all, and I am changing colour. But I've just been far too chicken to be so open about it because I know who reads my blog. My mother :P

Only joking.

But yes, she does.

So does my dad.

Awkward.

My sister, thankfully, doesn't bother.

So I don't know where this sudden rush of bravery comes from.

Anyway.

I guess some people are surprised that I'm well, me, because I'm totally incongruous with my background. I'm smart. I'm the child of immigrant parents who were born on the tail end of the Asian post-war baby boom. I love Shakespeare and modernist theatre. I'm not pretty and I'm still a virgin. I've never had a boyfriend.

But I'm also a sex-positive feminist. I'm also a big believer in empowerment and the embracing of human sexuality. I'm also a teenager with all the curiosities and excitement and experiences of any other teenager. I'm also a person who just happens to love dirty jokes and flirting and crude humour. I'm also...me.

But my ideas don't come from thin air. I didn't wake up one day with a period and boobs and say I'M GOING TO BE A LIPSTICK FEMINIST.

Noooooo.

I think it all started in high school. High school was liberating. For the first time we had actual proper girl talk, about boys and periods and all the other stuff in between. It's not the X-rated wedding night fantasies boys *think* we talk about, but I came from a school where getting your period was akin to losing your virginity. Not that that affected me, because apparently I had already lost my virginity to a tampon.

Apparently eleven year olds forget that tampons aren't exactly a necessity when you haven't started your period yet.

It was like living in the Middle Ages and then suddenly being transported to the 21st century by a benevolent alien called GATE.

A question a lot of people who aren't accustomed to period talk (guys, women from another century) ask me is 'why/how/what do you talk about?' We whinge a lot, basically, and give each other lots of sympathy. We laugh about horror stories and freak out about if it's late/long/short/heavy/normal etc. And to be honest, we don't really think about it that much - it's so normalized in our circles because we all have it and it affects us all and we all have to deal with it and if we didn't talk about it it would be a massive elephant in the room - we've all inadvertently seen wings when people have inadvertently flashed (it happens. School skirts, despite the uniform ladies' best efforts, aren't the most convenient to be discreet in), we've all seen the pad stash in our friends' bags, we've all traded tampons and painkillers as needed.

Awkward don't know why I'm sharing this with you moment, but I don't know how to explain to freaked out boys how normal periods and period talk has become. I was quite sick a few weeks back and I've still got a residual cough, which has recently gotten so bad that it triggered a gag reflex and I was coughing up blood clots. I tried to explain this to a friend but it's hard not to sound like a bulimic vampire when you say you're vomiting blood. So this is how it went down.

'Are you okay?'
'Yeah, but there was a bit of blood'
'Wait, what?'
'Uhh...like, blood clots'
'What do you mean?' (probable internal thought: crap she's a female Edward Cullen)
'Like the blood clots in your period'
'Oh, okay then'

See? NOTHING WRONG WITH IT.

I remember in one of my first year nine English classes, as a shy, meek, sheltered year eight, and suddenly we were talking about sex. Like, sex in literature. It was suddenly such a normal thing to talk about, to analyse gender dynamics and gender roles and sexual interaction. And some of the texts we studied were pretty sexy, too.

I'm one of those liberal arts gender studies wannabes and so I write a lot about feminist theory and the representation of gender in my essays for English and Lit. My most recent thesis on Eva Luna was 'Eva Luna challenges the patriarchal view of the world and empowers subaltern characters by presenting an alternate gender dynamic of egalitarian sexual relationships', which was a feminist and post-colonial reading of the use of micro-narrative to represent and critique post-colonial South American society. It's something I'm very comfortable writing about and something I've learned in high school. I remember, vividly, when we were getting our first year eleven lit essays back and our teacher was reading the 'best bits' of everyone's essays and she read out my thesis and someone (no names, but I heard you, Darth Vader!) muttered 'she actually wrote 'sexuality'' or something along those lines - it was an essay on the artistic depictions of Venus and how this reflects changes in societal attitudes towards female physical appearance. What's the point of writing an essay about sex if the s-word is never mentioned once?

I think talking about this stuff on my blog helps me to sort things out, to become more open and confident and to approach all these taboo subjects that really need to be discussed in order to promote  healthier relationships and healthier societal attitudes towards men and women and sex and identity and gender and all of that stuff - it is, weirdly, a lot easier to talk about this kind of taboo stuff in a public sphere, even though I'm very aware of my readership.

I feel like girls are still so suppressed in their opportunities to express themselves as women, as people, as human beings with desires and feeling and emotions. There's so much guilt surrounding female sexuality, female appearance, the female biological function - it's actually ridiculous. I'm so tired of feeling guilty about how I look, what I think, how I behave, what I want, how I feel. I hate the connection between pleasure and shame and the consequences this has on all people - men, women, straight, gay - we'd all be so much better off if we were more open about something that is so natural and uncontrollable. I sometimes think that what girls think is okay and what is not is getting very confused with what society thinks is okay and what is not. I know it's hard to differentiate but I don't think it's healthy for a girl to take a particular attitude 'because people will think I'm a slut/nun/insert derogatory term here', as opposed to 'I do not want to do this because it makes me feel weird/uncomfortable/insert word that isn't 'happy' here'. And I do not for the life of me understand why my liberal attitude towards sex and gender somehow makes me less sexy than girls who never ever ever ever talk about it.

I am what you might call an educated woman - well, on my way to that, anyway. I'm more educated than a lot of women out there, which is sad, considering that I haven't even graduated from high school yet. I'm not a huge fan of the education system, and I don't judge my education on the pieces of paper I get that tell me that I've finished my mandatory detention compulsory schooling. In the words of Belle de Jour, 'I'm educated, so I'm expensive'...I've never really felt that.

Anyway.

I consider myself an educated woman because I recognize the danger of ignorance and actively attempt to improve myself through knowledge and learning and experience. Ignorance leads to fear, to misconceptions, to poor judgement, to irrationality and violence and suppression. My love of knowledge and my lust for experience defines me in all ways - as a woman, as a teenager, as the person that I am becoming. By not talking about things, or talking about things in hushed whispers, we spread unfair, untrue and harmful myths and mangled half-truths about sex and sexuality, which have the most profound impact on the most vulnerable people in society - youth, women, and marginalized sexual identities (gay, transgender, etc.) We're not going to make sex, or pleasure, or sexual relationships, or sexual attraction, or the sex industry, or sex crimes, or sexually transmitted diseases, just evaporate by refusing to ever acknowledge or discuss them - and for the first five on that list we shouldn't really want them to evaporate. Like at all. Instead of bashing ourselves over the head with man made constructs like religion and morality - which are really just manifestations of societal fears and attitudes and general ignorance - we should have open dialogue so everyone's on the same page.

I value communication above all things - which is why I feel intensely uncomfortable when I'm in situations where I feel like either I can't understand people or people can't understand me or both; I am irrationally afraid of language and cultural barriers and in all my relationships I feel like I'm so weird and different and unorthodox that I can't always voice my opinions and my feelings even when I've pretty much heard EVERYTHING (seriously. Some people have told me the randomest shit and I've dealt with it, and I can't tell them nothing). I need to talk - a lot - and this is me, just talking. Talking about the things I'm not allowed to say, or I'm too afraid to say, or I have nobody to speak to.

I am so thankful that I'm part of the generation that has grown up with the internet. I've had home internet connection since I was about seven years old. Which I thought was pretty cool, until I realized that my four year old cousin has an iPad and my one year old nephew can use a smartphone better than I can.

But yeah. Internet. Exposure. To ideas.

So here is where I get my ideas from! (in no particular order, and I've definitely forgotten at least a few things)

Belle de Jour

Don't ask me how the hell I stumbled upon Belle de Jour, but it was one of the best things that happened to me. Belle de Jour (who I've talked about earlier when I was discussing scars) is a research scientist in England who worked briefly as a high class escort between submitting her PhD. thesis and having her PhD. awarded. She challenges pretty much every stereotype about sex workers out there - she's not poor, starving, abused (I mean, I know that happens but there are exceptions to the rule), and she did it because she liked it. And she's a feminist, too - well, she has what I consider to be feminist ideals even though some "feminists" whack her over the head with morality. She prizes what anyone should prize in women - intelligence, sophistication, empowerment, education, conversation. Belle de Jour was the first bold statement that women can like sex, should like sex, and that sex and attraction is so much more than what you look like. She's my height with horrible acne scars too. People used to pay her 300 pounds an hour for her time.

She also challenged that whole 'guys are only after sex' stereotype that is told to EVERY SINGLE TEENAGE GIRL ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH. Sure, I'm kinda starting to realize that teenage boys are kind of preoccupied with sex (actually we all are, but girls are expected not to be) but as Belle de Jour so classily put it, if guys were only interested in the physical stuff, they wouldn't hire prostitutes. They'd just 'wank and save the money'.

She said it, not me.

Garfunkel and Oates

Garfunkel and Oates are an indie comedy duo who are MIND NUMBINGLY HILARIOUS and...very, very dirty. They're a new generation of younger people - messed up children of baby boomers - who are open about life, about sex, about hilarious experiences and encounters. It's the first time I've seen crude humour oriented to a primarily female audience - it's okay to like Garfunkel and Oates and have boobs.

Hannah Girasol

Hannah Girasol is the web name of Hannah Witton, a UK vlogger who is super funny and entertaining and just yeah. Cool. She's part of the Garfunkel and Oates generation - wrong continent, but same ideals. It's okay for women to explore, to experiment, to be open about who they are - to fuck things oup epically and see the funny side!. And she has a sex education thing which is soooo much more comprehensive than the school's USE CONDOMS OR DIE classes (sex ed, seriously...I did not need to know half the things they taught us and the other half was mysteriously omitted in the name of morality. You could have told me about boner hugs before I found out the hard way...pun intended...)

Laci Green

Laci Green is a Berkeley graduate, social justice activist and sex educator and founder of Sex+ which is a weekly YouTube series about, well, everything - growing up, expressing yourself, gender roles, body issues, social attitudes and their impact on sex and gender and life...everything. It's everything you should know that nobody really knows. Unlike my sometimes unjustifiably polemic rants, all her videos are super researched and ridiculously funny. And kind of crude. I don't mind.

Emily Maguire

Emily Maguire is an Australian writer who writes journalistic pieces on the status of women in Australian society and also released a non fiction book called Princesses and Pornstars (re-released as Your Skirt's Too Short for younger readers). As my copy of The Female Eunuch is still in transit, this is the first academic-ish book I've read on feminism, and it's really helped me to form my own ideas and to grow, as a person and as a woman and as a feminist.

Me!

I guess the biggest influence on yourself is, well, you - your experiences, the people you know, etc. I'm growing up, and I've had experiences - weird ones - and everyone I meet and everything I do shapes and alters and influences me, as I find out what I like, what I want, and how I feel about things.

STUFF THAT I'VE REJECTED AS GOOD INFLUENCES ON MY PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT

Dita von Teese 

This might be slightly irrational but I don't think that Dita von Teese is really the sex positive icon that she's made out to be - she seems to me to be a highly insecure woman who is overly reliant on physical appearance, and in her interviews she doesn't really have any strong opinions on women and sexuality. Sounds harsh but...it's nothing personal.

The copious and ever growing number of evangelical Bible-believing Christian blogs

Even when I was into abstinence I rejected the idea that sex, or certain types or situations of sexual activity, was *wrong* - I just bought into the whole romance of the 'wedding night' thing and this was before hormones - and brain cells - *really* kicked in. I'm all for religious freedom and I have quite a lot of friends (you wouldn't believe it, but it's true) who are vtms and/or Christian and that's fine, because that choice is about freedom of sexual expression and I am all for that. But the way people whack you over the head with it just because you don't see virginity as a 'gift' or you don't believe you're going to burn in hell because you gave a few pre-marital handjobs is just ridiculous, and it's a violation of my right to religious freedom - atheism, which couldn't give a damn about what goes on behind closed doors. I think abstinence can be healthy if it's a fully conscious decision (i.e. not something you're pressured into but something you genuinely believe in, hard to tell I know but I don't think it's a decision God/Jesus/Mary/parents/church people/society/boyfriend should make for you) but I hate the way that more sexually liberated women (and it's really only women) are demonized by these people who use a major religion as a tool to exploit societal fears and attitudes and to promote their own (and very unrelated to religion) ignorant opinions and impose them on other people. In my scandalously atheist perspective of life and love the idea of saving sex for just one person makes it special and sacred and etc, and marriage can be involved in that. But saving sex specifically for marriage, rather than for a person, is a patriarchal construct designed to deny women the right to explore their own sexuality and bodies and the right to give and receive pleasure freely. The obsession with purity - is it impure, to feel good after winning a prize, or coming first in a race, or the rush of endorphins after exercise or the emotions of friendship? No. So what's impure about feeling good about sex and romantic relationships?

Teen Magazines

My sister and I used to be kind of semi-avid collectors of Dolly and Girlfriend, and for most girls the Dolly Doctor sections are the only socially acceptable (actually, not really) access to specific questions about life and love and bodies and emotions and all the other stuff teenagers have to deal with. But I just felt like the emphasis was on appearance and makeup and clothes and how to make yourself look better and bigger and smaller and what to do with boys for the benefit of...boys and that was really when my makeup obsession and insecurities started. I also felt like it was aimed at a kind of white, high socio-economic status audience...put it this way, these magazines read like something I would write if I was commissioned to write something for the girls I grew up with. And I don't cherish a soft spot for most of them. So yeah.

Also, the whole 'retouch free zones' made me feel worse. I couldn't even blame Photoshop for the obvious physical differences between me and the people splashed on magazine covers. I do not understand why the knowledge that Miranda Kerr looks THAT HOT WITHOUT ANY HELP is supposed to make us feel better.

Wow. This was um. Heavy. And it took me all day to write. And I'm sorry if I'm freaking you out.

Not really.

Hot Oil and No Poo: It Works.

Now Playing: Withdraw by Kimbra (I can't keep your loving from my mind, it's worth more than gold, crystals and pride)

I may have mentioned that I grew up with rich kids.

One of those rich kids was telling us (extremely confused) immigrant kids how her mother washes her hair with kiwi fruit and egg yolks.

We were all like WTF? Why? Why would you put food in your hair?

You forget that I was brought up by a woman who often had to skip lunch at school because she couldn't afford it, and spent her uni years living on pot noodles.

But that's another story.

I've been kind of semi no pooing for a little while now - I'm just a little more than halfway through my Shampoo Bar from Corrynne's which is AMAZING. For conditioner I spray neat rosemary-infused ACV onto wet hair, let it sit, then rinse it out.

I've also been oil cleansing.

The theory of oil cleansing is that like attracts like - that nothing is better to remove oil than, well, oil. The problem with this is that if you refuse to use (carcinogenic, birth defect related) surfactants on your hair, like attracts like and then REFUSES to fuck off. Seriously.

but hot oil and no poo work. Trust me.

My oil of choice is coconut oil. It has been used in Asia for centuries to encourage hair growth and to nourish hair, skin and nails. The coconut is an amazing thing - coconut water can be used as emergency blood transfusions (as it was during the war) because it is so similar to blood plasma, and coconut milk is the most similar to breast milk (much more so than cow's milk). Coconut oil is GOOD for you.

It is also, however, virtually bulletproof. I buy it in bottles and it's completely solid (this doesn't make a lot of sense. I have to melt it and pour it into containers. Why would you put solid oil into a bottle?) and even the tiniest smidge is almost impossible to wash out completely, which is why I gave up on it for a little while. But it's so softening and nourishing.

Hot Oil Recipe:

1tbsp coconut oil
1tbsp sesame oil
1tbsp olive oil
1tsp powdered cinnamon
3 drops tea tree oil (I keep forgetting this!)
(you can also use this recipe for on your skin - you don't need the cinnamon. Sit on a towel and apply to your entire body in circular motions. Let it sit for fifteen minutes before showering)

6tsp bicarb soda
4 cups hot water

1. Place a small bowl into a larger bowl and fill the larger bowl with boiling water. Place the oils into the small bowl and stir until the coconut oil has melted and everything is nice and hot.

2. Add cinnamon and tea tree oil and combine

3. DO THIS IN THE GARDEN BECAUSE IT GETS MESSY. Apply oil liberally to scalp, massaging in. Use at least two thirds of the oil on your scalp - it'll get on your hair anyway. Then apply to the lengths, focusing on the ends.

4. Run a towel under hot water and squeeze out excess water. Wrap around hair. (disposable shower caps and cling film are too fiddly and aren't as environmentally friendly)

5. Wrap your head again in a dry towel

6. Leave for at least an hour. I normally do mine in the late morning and wash it out in the late afternoon.

7. Mix the bicarb and hot water together in a bucket.

8. Rinse out IN THE GARDEN or you'll coat your shower/bath tub with dangerously slippery oil.

9. Use no poo/castile soap/normal shampoo as normal. You may need to wash your hair twice.

10. Condition as normal. You might not need to, though.

My male readers will probably find this bafflingly complicated and an utter waste of time, but it's very theraputic. Seriously. It's a good way to spend a Sunday.


Fear

Now Playing: I'm Not Calling You a Liar by Florence + The Machine (I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me)

My mother always told me that a strong woman is a woman who walks away, and that you'll never lose a man if he's afraid he'll lose you.

And as usual, I'm the good daughter who never listens to her mother.

The power play that I was presented by the daughters of suffragettes was that women only get power by learning what keeps a man in and withholding it to get what you want, even if that may actually kill you in the process. Seriously. If you withdraw anything that leads to pleasure, well, it's your loss too. They didn't tell me that before I became a coquette.

I'm afraid of losing friends. I'm afraid of things slipping through my fingers if I dare to get a tighter grip. I'm afraid that I'll lose everything I gained by turning a blind eye, by letting things pass, by giving out far too many 'second chances'. I'm afraid that if I stand my ground people will walk away. Horrible, weird, irrational, paranoid fears like that.

I know most of my relationships with people are based on that. That the intensity, the outlet, the release, the brief moments, come at a price. Everything is a twisted web of lies and half truths and the sad knowledge that someone is eventually going to get hurt. And that someone is probably going to be me.

I was driven by curiosity, and completely seduced by the opportunity to be myself after being suppressed for so long. I saw innocence as a vulnerability but I didn't realize that losing your innocence is an even greater one. I've done nothing that I regret, I refuse to live with regrets. But now I want out and I'm not brave enough to. I'll miss it too much. I hate the thought of saying goodbye. I did it once and it didn't last very long and I know exactly why.

I'm lied to so often that it's become so easy for me to pick it out and to deal with it. But sometimes you know someone is lying to you, but you just can't bear the thought. You don't want to think so badly of them, and even questioning them feels like an accusation you don't want to make. That's why I pretend everything's okay. Sometimes I'd rather hear lies than face the truth.

I hate inconsistency and yet I spend far too much time around the most inconsistent people I have ever met. One second we're barely on first-name basis, the next minute we're best friends, then the semantics change and I don't know what the hell we are, and I'm pretending to be fine with it when I can't stand not being on the same page as someone. Sometimes I feel like we understood each other so much better when we barely knew each other at all. People who hate you are so easy to read, which is why I was a perfectly competent bitch. You can read their minds just by looking at their faces. But the people who love you, or the people you love...they're impossible to read. You'd believe them if they said 'I'd never hurt you' if they had a gun to your head.

I'm so afraid of the influence people have over me. I don't let many people in, because it's a mind fuck for both parties. But the people I do let in - I don't have many vague acquaintances or moderate friends. I don't do anything halfway. The people close to me have my heart and body and soul. I'd do anything for them, and they mean the world to me. It doesn't matter how badly they treat me or how much they hurt me, I always look out for them, and I'm always a shoulder to cry on. And although I get so much strength from empathy and altruism and being the good guy for a change, I'm so afraid of the influence people have over me, especially when I know I don't have half that kind of power over them.

But this will be the last I speak of it. I've always been rather bad at handling my own affairs, but this is something I have to do on my own. I have nobody to talk to, nobody I can talk to who won't get impatient with me, or worse, judge me. It's rather sad when you realize that you'd listen to anything and everything and nobody will really return the favour - but that's just how my life's been, recently; I'd do anything for people and they'll do next to nothing for me in return. It's just the same as being alone, which is what I fear the most. I'm so afraid and I can't tell anyone, there are no words to describe it, and no-one with any answers to the thousands of questions swarming around my head.

I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of pain, I'm afraid of the dark, I'm afraid of being alone, I'm afraid of losing, I'm afraid of letting go. And I don't have anything or anyone to help me conquer this fear.



Saturday, September 01, 2012

Book Review: Princesses and Pornstars

Now Playing: Peacock by Katy Perry (I'm intrigued for a peek, heard it's fascinating...)

I was one of the many girls to whom the empty promise of 'your time will come' was supposed to stop the endless surge of teenage angst and hormones that floods through every teenager on earth. Don't worry about having a boyfriend, sweetie. Your time will come.

Yeah, I know. I know I'll have boyfriends. I know I'll probably fall in love and get married and have babies. I know. But that doesn't explain why nothing's happening now, and I want everything now. There's nothing wrong with that. But what happens later doesn't justify the absence of nothing happening now. I had my first kiss at sixteen and I always knew it would happen at some point - my self esteem's not that low, after all - but it's something I've wanted since I was about thirteen. Why is it that wanting it at thirteen was bad but now that I've had it at sixteen it's all sort of okay? Why is it that desire is worse than the actual deed?

The reason why this 'your time will come' cult has infected so many young girls, and the well-meaning carers of young girls, is that we still have a huge cringe against girls having desires beyond romantic desires. They assure us that one day we will get our big white wedding and our happily ever afters in the hope that we'll get that without all the sordid sexual intensity between the scabby knees of childhood and the fairytale-come-true of adulthood. We can't bear the thought of a girl wanting a kiss just for the experience, sex just for the curiosity, expressions of love before and maybe even without 'till death do we part', to the extent that if a girl does dabble in these things we assume they're either depressed, coerced or just nuts. Our society not only wonders why some girls are sixteen and have never had a boyfriend (me), but also wonders why these girls actively want a relationship (also me). Hypocritical, much?

This was one of the many thoughts that came to mind as I was reading Princesses and Pornstars by Emily Maguire, which I devoured in one sitting the day it arrived. It's hard to say what genre Princesses and Pornstars is - it's part biography, part journalistic piece, part academic feminist rant.

Princesses and Pornstars is a confronting book. It's a frank and brutally honest discussion of where we are, forty years into feminism, and the attitudes towards feminism today. It's pretty bleak, with outrageously sexist quotes from Tony Abbott and John Howard, Emily's personal experience as the high school slut - being the boy crazy girl everyone thought would end up pregnant, and some pretty confronting stories from real-life ladies - the kind of women I might be like in five, ten, twenty years time - explaining the impact and consequences of inequitable working conditions, sexism and double standards that have permeated society and the workplace, and relationships with men who are confused about current gender roles and expect real women to adhere to the only types of women that they know, through the media - princesses and pornstars.

One of the first topic brought up in Princesses and Pornstars is the huge social pressure to suck in, push up, pluck, wax, shave, paint. Femaleness is ugly, in this day and age. Even the images of 'natural beauty' we sell aren't 'natural' at all - they've all been altered from au naturel glory. Not only does failure to adhere to increasingly crazy beauty ideals - informed largely by the catwalk models and pornstars we will never be - make us undateable, undesirable, unfuckable - but also unemployable. Sure, there are attractive and unattractive men, but I'm pretty sure nobody turned down any guy on the colour of his tie or on how much skin was showing.

Another topic approached by Emily Maguire is our ongoing fascination with virginity and female purity - even though bloodstained sheets aren't museum pieces anymore, there is still an unhealthy obsession with abstinence and female purity, to the extent that there are so many examples of guys - most of them guys who have slept around a fair bit - feeling weak/intimidated/grossed out/scared of the prospect of a girl who has slept around a fair bit. As Eva said in Eva Luna, 'why should you care about my virginity when you can't give me yours?' Emily Maguire also suggests that modern women shouldn't see losing one's virginity as an event, or as something to be 'taken' - it's not so much losing your virginity as gaining life experience, and pretty much starts with your first kiss and never ends. It's a journey, not a dead end.

I used to be into the whole purity thing. It's not something I regret or deny - there was a time in my life when the prospect of 'saving myself' was empowering, and I know some girls still buy into that. But that was a time when I didn't really understand hormones or desires, that wanting something is good not bad, and that being 'responsible' doesn't necessarily mean blocking your eyes and singing lalala until you've got a ring on your finger. But that's a personal choice, and it gets a little creepy and unhealthy when a) girls who do decide to go vtm whack other 'slutty' girls on the head with it (virginity, whilst admirable, is not exactly grounds for moral high ground in my book) b) when politicians use the abstinence preach as a chance to be delightfully condescending, wonderfully sexist and profoundly anachronistic and c) when guys, who don't have this purity pressure (some could argue they have the reverse pressure of 'get laid ASAP', which I suppose has its own problems) judge girls on shit like this.

As a sex-positive feminist and something of a fan of Belle de Jour, I think that sexuality is empowering and everyone has the right to sexual expression and freedom. But the discussion of the porn industry (I don't confess to being a huge expert) shows the detrimental impact of pornography on the status of women and gender dynamics. Porn is primarily a male-oriented industry, which is not only in itself sexist (as in a girl watching porn is not socially acceptable, and so female-oriented porn is not as readily available), but fails to recognise the reality of intimacy as interaction between the genders. It also serves to propagate myths about women and sex, and instills unrealistic expectations upon women and sex and overemphasizes the importance of physical appearance. It's quite intimidating to try and be...well, a teenager...with a guy you know probably fantasizes about, well, perfection. The kind of perfect you never will be.

It's sad that girls are terrified of the label 'feminist'. I've lost count of the times someone has said 'you're a feminist, right?' or 'you shouldn't say that, you're a feminist!'. Someone even said to me 'Fuck feminism. I'm not a feminist because I believe in equality'. I am what happens to feminists - late bloomer, never been kissed, never had a boyfriend, never gets married. The sad thing is, people think I embrace that, and I don't. I hate being a late bloomer, I loved my first kiss, I'd like a boyfriend and I definitely want to get married. I think people see me as a 'feminist', then a 'female' before a 'person' - definitely way before 'writer' or 'dreamer', which is kind of how I'd like to identify - sensual, but not categorized by gender. I'm an artist, and, paraphrasing Adele, I want to be a genre, not a gender. Feminism has moved on so much from the blue stockings of the suffragettes.

So yeah, that was what was going through my head when I was reading Princesses and Pornstars.


 

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #70

Now Playing: Walking on a Dreamy Road by Jang Nara (you are the star that rises and flies, yearning to walk a forbidden dreamy road)

#623: A tragedy bringing us all together. We're all family, and we all miss you.

#624: A beautiful spring day 

#625: Reading Princesses & Pornstars

#626: Reading Lolita

#627: Hot oil hair masks 

#628: I don't know who to believe or what to think, but I think I still believe in myself, and I still believe in being fearless. 

#629: 87% on an Eva Luna Essay that almost cost me my sanity. 

#630: I found another Flo fan! Who knew?

#631: I can't listen to earphones anymore. Headphones make everything surreal and euphoric. 

#632: I don't want to believe that you've lied to me, but nothing adds up.