jessicavalenti:

Actual ad from Playtex trying to sell “feminine hygiene” products.

and you know what beavers like to do to wood, right?

When an otherwise very self-aware female friend sides with misogynist males in an argument because she is so used to ingratiating them with comments like “I’m not like normal girls, I’m not a bitch and I hate drama” and “I’m just one of the guys.”

And I’m just like, yes, thank you, please continue to throw me under a fucking bus. By all means, refuse to understand my talking points because you’re programmed to fear association with feminism because it may make men hate you.

Pro-tip: men who hate you for being feminist are men who want to control and oppress you. Does that sound like dudes you want to bang or befriend? Nooooooooope.

Females can be sexist. Females can be misogynist. Females can fucking piss me off.

When a guy tries to tell me that the harassment and bullying of a women’s rights activist isn’t a sexist issue because “it’s 2012, equal rights.”

Oh, I’m sorry, I was unaware that equal rights had happ—oh right, they haven’t. And even if we had achieved “equal rights,” that wouldn’t suddenly make this incident correct or insignificant. It would mean justice against this kind of harassment would actually be enforced, either through legal means or at the hands of enlightened individuals across the internet.

And sexism does exist, asshole. In fact, you perpetuated it when you started your “argument” off by saying, “Ladies, grow some balls.”

I don’t need your testicles, I’m doing just fine without them.

No offense to the person I’m reblogging this from (you’re lovely and quickly becoming one of my favorites) but I’m about to bust this shit wide open.

First off I’m all about body positivity. Bodies are inherently beautiful. There are a lot of things that society views as imperfections (scars, gray hair, wrinkles, bald spots, knobbly knees, large noses) that I have forever been thinking were fucking gorgeous and worth idolizing. But here’s the thing about bodies—they only belong to their owners. You know what that means? Not your body, not your problem.

I’m going to assume that this poster is directed toward females based on the giant image that I recognize from all of those public restrooms I frequent, so I’m going to say this is a feminist issue here. I’m going to make a statement that I have had to explain to people both in and out of the movement—feminism is about giving females the freedom, rights and support to live their individual lives in a fulfilling way, rather than pigeon-holing them to one homogeneous life pattern. Too often I see the shit flipping 180 degrees and going back on itself into an entirely new, equally oppressive problem. For example: feminism is not about pressuring a mother to work, it’s about giving her the choice to pursue motherhood and a career or just motherhood (or maybe just childless marriage and whatever she wants to spend her days doing, IDGAF really). Feminism is not about glorifying fat, hairy legs and armpits, natural hair, makeup-free faces, or a certain style of clothing—although all of those things are certainly beautiful. Instead, feminism is about freeing females up to do whatever the fuck they want with their bodies. As in, like, yeah, you can get breast implants if you want. You can diet. You can wear traditionally feminine clothing like frilly dresses and pink and polka dots. Those Christian Louboutins you want to purchase for the equivalent of a month’s rent for me? Fucking buy them, they are gorgeous like I don’t even understand how a shoe can be that beautiful it’s just art yeah because fashion is art let’s all remember that. And what you want to do to your body is art, whether you’re male female genderfluid or whatever I don’t care I mean even if you’re a non-human rabbit reading this right now your body is beautiful dear rabbit, please understand this one thing. And it’s yours to do with as you please. We cannot get bogged down in only glorifying the progressive, the alternative, the tattoos, the piercings, the dreads, the curves, the not shaving, etc. as a way to love our bodies. You can’t pick which body modifications (or non-modifications) are good and okay and which people shouldn’t participate in because it’s the system, it’s the fashion and beauty magazines, it’s the popular girls at your high school, it’s the women of Hollywood or the women of Playboy, whatever. You cannot flip the shit over and continue to tell people what is and is not okay for them to do to their bodies. Say it with me: not my body, not my problem.

There was this uproar on the internet a while ago about the human Barbie, who had all those surgeries to make herself look like a Barbie. (I’m not even going to link it do some investigative Googling) You know what? She is fucking beautiful. Not because of what she has done to her body, or in spite of it. She is beautiful because she’s a human and she has an amazing circuit of thoughts inside her mind and desires and intricacies and disappointments and goals and so do we all and that is beautiful. And her body is an amazing machine with functions scientists still don’t completely understand and it is wonderful and bodies are just an incredible thing to inhabit and a wonderful way through which to interact with the world.

You have just as little right to tell someone, “You’re too skinny” as you do to tell them, “You’re too fat.” You also have no right to tell someone they’re too unhealthy, too shallow, too hairy, too hairless, too ugly, too pretty, too acne-riddled, too makeup-covered, too dyed, too natural, too frizzy, too straightened, too whatever-body-shaming-thing-you-can-think-of. Is it anti-feminist for me to shave my legs, pubes and armpits? No. It’s feminist for me to do whatever the fuck I want to to my body. You get that right too.

There is no right or wrong way to love your body. Don’t shame people for the things they enjoy doing to their bodies—and if you know someone who is legitimately unhappy with their bodies and they are taking a traditional approach to change it and are STILL unhappy and unfulfilled, by all means encourage them to pursue other approaches and direct them to body positivity blogs. But don’t ever shame someone for looking a way they legitimately take pleasure in, no matter how different it is from the way you enjoy looking. The only thing you should not do is hate your body, but you know what I’m not even going to tell you not to do that because even though it would make me sad to not see you happy you can do whatever you want it’s your body and your life and I have my own.

I understand that this is a collection of facts, but they are arranged together in a purposeful manner, with an obvious audience (bald handless females who love pink and wear dresses and have no necks), with a handy slogan: Love Your Body Day which is telling the viewer which conclusion they are supposed to make from the comparisons, i.e. that the left column is not loving your body, and the right column is loving your body. This is how propaganda works, people, whether it’s a good or bad message. Don’t even come at me with “you’re overreacting” because I’m not and cool.

Also side note: not your money not your problem. That applies to all money a person gains from employment, loans, scholarships, gifts from parents, sugar daddies, whatever. Spend it on whatever you want I really don’t care you don’t owe shit to me and yeah carry on. Again, not gonna tell you how to find fulfillment in life that’s your shit.

(via foremmaforeverag0)

Me: “I can’t even take my trash out to the curb without getting yelled or honked at.”

Coworker: “Well do you go out in your drawers?”

Me: “….”

Me: “No. I don’t actually have to be showing any significant amount of skin to invite verbal street harassment, I only have to live in a misogynistic society where men believe they have a right to comment on the appearance of my body using violent and intimidating phrases that threaten my personal safety. It really takes zero wardrobe effort whatsoever on my part, I mean I could go out wearing a parka and I would still be told things that would make your 67-year-old conservative Christian ears turn red and probably bleed and pus too.”

Once again ended up at a steak dinner with Farm Bureau guys + dad.

Dairy farmer: So what are you going to do for your dad? Organize him?

Me, glaring: Um, I’ll be pissed if my dad makes me his secretary.

I am not a little girl. I am a bad ass bitch. I have a genius-level IQ. I can lift heavy objects. I wake up at the crack of dawn, and I’m not afraid of hard work—I relish it. I don’t mind getting dirty. I don’t mind stepping in cow shit. I look damn good in a tight dress, but I look just as good in jeans and work boots. I’ve been known to punch bitches in bars. My nickname is mother fucking Cindy Dean. I can get more chicks than the guys I hang with, whether I want them or not. I’m confident in my equality to the men around me. I’m nice. I care about people. I do everything with a smile, but it’s not because I’m not tough. I think logically, not emotionally. I’m strong for a woman, but I’m also strong as a person.

Now, do I need to have this written on my forehead so bitches will stop fucking with me?