Thursday, December 27, 2007

Benazir Bhutto RIP

Go read this right now.

I really can't express how sad and angry this makes me. I'll try to say something more coherant later, too shell-shocked right now.

(Thanks to Natalia for the link.)

Monday, December 24, 2007

Merry Christmas, Happy belated Hanukkah or Eid, Merry Festivus…

Just a quick post to wish everyone a happy holiday season. Whatever holiday you happen to celebrate, even if it’s only “yay, I get the day off work!”, I hope it’s a good one.

Also, why do I associate Elvis with Christmas? Is this the fault of my parents for always making me watch TV? And if so, why does, say, It’s a Wonderful Life hold no appeal? Last night I watched The Hogfather, which was SO much more fun than most holiday movies, and today I was cleaning out my hard drive and came across the following punk Elvis cover, which for some reason felt completely holiday-appropriate to me.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Boob Wars terrorize feminist blogland…again.

So everyone read the Pandagon posting in which Amanda giggled with girlish glee over the fact that some sexist asswipe at Details doesn’t like women with big boobs, right? There were so many things wrong with that posting that I hardly know where to start. I couldn’t even be bothered to engage over there, because seriously, any woman who thinks that men making snide judgmental comments about women with big boobs, including implying that such women are stupid and lacking self esteem, is, like super-cool and awesome! And totally feminist-friendly! I'm not exactly feeling the sisterly love. I mean seriously – that Details article is dripping with contempt for women who don’t meet the author’s specific beauty standard. It’s Misogyny 101 for dudes who like skinny girls with small tits. Anyone who would praise that and think it’s something for feminists to celebrate? Clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Not able to think beyond “hey, this guy is saying that women like me are the superior model!” and realize that the entire premise of the article is “woman as consumer product whose worth shall be judged by whether or not men want to fuck her”, and that’s the exact opposite of everything that feminism stands for.

I ran across an excellent example of just why calling this kind of shit feminism is so very stupid today. Check out this Salon article.

And then check out the comments.

Notice anything interesting? A certain tone to the replies from men, perhaps? The pervasive idea that women’s bodies are everyone’s business but their own? That there is a “proper” breast size and that it’s up to men to determine what that size is? And that once such has been determined, women must strive to meet men’s expectations (whatever they happen to be this week)? The boldly and repeatedly stated insistence that women’s own opinions about their bodies are essentially irrelevant, that their lived experience doesn’t matter?

Here’s the reality that the Pandagon piece missed by a mile – the very idea that women can and should be judged by the size of their boobs as if that size was somehow a reflection on their moral or intellectual status, and that there is a “proper” size that is to be determined by men, is REALLY REALLY FUCKING SEXIST. That men feel free to do this is not something that feminists should be celebrating, even if the particular conclusions drawn by those particular men make a particular woman feel good about herself as long as she isn’t bright enough to think through what the implications of that framing are for women as a whole.

In other words – my dear misguided sexist-jerk-cheering-on sisters, kindly remove your heads from your asses for long enough to realize that whether or not the specific standard of boobage being proposed as the ideal is one that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy and appreciated IS COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT. The idea that there is and/or should be a standard is inherently sexist. The men proposing that standard, whatever it may be in any specific case, are essentially treating you as a product – “I prefer BMWs to Saabs”. That is not a victory for feminism.

And I’m not just talking about Amanda, BTW. I’m talking about all the other feminists who sat there (and continue to sit there on Feministe) going “I don’t see what the problem was with saying that the Details article was funny” after many, many other women have explained slowly and clearly exactly why buying into such blatant misogyny is not OK.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Attack of the Sex Pixies

So apparently the Sex Pox have a new name. We’re the Sex Pixies now. Which is cute, I suppose. At least they’re not comparing sex positive women to a disease that causes boils and then death any more, right?

In honor of the new name I decided to make a sex pixie of my own (credit to Kiya for the idea). Isn’t she cute? With her widdle wings?

Now here’s the thing. This whole sex pixie business…I’m assuming it’s meant to appeal to one’s memory of childhood fairy tales in which the pixies were adorable but fundamentally untrustworthy creatures who did things like steal babies and generally caused trouble for decent, law-abiding people. Yes, dear, we get the analogy. We, the sex pixies, are the harbingers of the Patriarchy, pure evil wrapped in a cute shiny package designed to hide our true (evil…did I mention that we’re evil?) natures. All we do is cause trouble for nice honest decent feminist women, with our suspicious affection for grooming rituals and pretty shoes and our tendency to pretend (admit) that we sometimes enjoy sex, even sex with men! Oh, the horrors! Don’t panic, I have your smelling salts right here. Go ahead, take them. I won’t be needing them since I’m not prone to fainting spells.

Nothing but trouble, the sex pixies. All we do is make other feminists look bad, and give men the idea that not all women view them with the maiden aunt’s jaundiced eye. The good feminists know that we don’t really like sex or shoes or booze or any of the other stuff we say we like, we’re just kissing ass so that the boys will like us. Because we have no needs or desires of our own. Women aren’t sexual, you know, not like men, those brutes. Plus we make other women feel bad, what with being so bright and shiny and what the hell does she think she’s wearing, that slut? Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to slip out. What I meant was I feel so sorry for you because you have yet to see the light, my sister. Come sit with me and I shall explain it to you. Yes, I know that I’ve explained it a billion times before and you’ve told me you don’t agree, but I know that you will if you just listen harder. Silly little girl, thinking that you can think for yourself. That’s the last thing a feminist should be doing – why, she might draw entirely the wrong conclusions. Better to just let the collective do your thinking for you, because after all, when did that ever not turn out to be the best thing for everyone?

Now that we’ve explained who she is, let’s meet the Sex Pixie (de-winged this time, because they’re less dangerous that way). Be careful, she’s tricksy. Don’t get too close.

Funny thing about the Sex Pixie…turns out that she looks pretty much just like everyone else. In fact, this one looks just like me. Take a good look…is she really all that scary? Does she seem like she’s out to destroy womankind? Or does she in fact look like any other ordinary woman who you might find yourself standing next to in the morning waiting to get coffee, or chatting to on the train, or sharing an office with, or nodding hello to while you’re out walking the dog, or…

Don’t believe it, sisters! Under that friendly smile lies a heart of ice, dedicated to nothing except extending the dominion of the Patriarchy. She doesn’t have thoughts, she doesn’t have feelings – all she has is a maniacal desire to please men. Even if she’s a lesbian. It’s OK to call her a slut or a sociopath or insult her intelligence, because she’s not really a woman. She’s a Sex Pixie.