That first picture just fills me with such joy and a feeling of hope.
HEY ERIN HEY!
It’s the last picture that gets me. Her eyes are off reading the defense, because she’s not handing off to the RB, that’s a fake. She’s the QB and she’d doing her goddamn job and she’s doing it well. GET IT GIRL.
“Everybody says, ‘What happens when she gets hit?’ ” Gatewood said. “This isn’t a knock on Erin, but she’s bigger than 10 kids on my team. I have a wide receiver that weighs 25 pounds less than her. And the pads she wears are the same as the pads he wears.”
This is the only context in which football matters to me
GET IT GIRL
hahaha omg i thought this to myself too
Seriously, the thing that the coach said.
The media has really fucked with our perceptions of women’s bodies. Women, generally speaking, are way heavier than you think compared to men of comparable height.
i love everything about this photoset, but i especially adore the first pic, with her cheerleader friend helping her tie back her hair. just…y’know, cheerleading is so strongly linked to a particular embodiment of femininity, just as playing football is strongly linked to a particular embodiment of masculinity, and like. girls are always pitted against each other, man, and their different ways of being girls are always pitted against each other.
to me, that first pic overturns a lot of shitty narratives about girlhood and girl friendships in one cute snapshot of a fleeting moment between two friends. idk, i just really love it.
"It’s for my Queer and Feminist Comparative Literature Theory class."
“Let me write that down…”
“I took it more for the teacher than the class. My school was all-male until the sixties, and she was one of the first teachers at the women’s college. She’s really respected.”
“So what’s one important thing she’s taught you?”
“… about how it’s important for feminists to evaluate everyday occurrences. How even routine personal interactions are political. Everything is significant, and even little things have meaning.”
“Is it possible to see too much meaning in little things?”
“Well, there does seem to be some people who go around looking for things to be angry about. But if the alternative is to be desensitized to how small things affect us, I think it’s better to be overly sensitive.”
Disney vs. 7 early fairytales
The 1812 version of Snow White is even worse when you consider that the girl was only seven years old in the tale (plus her unconscious body ended up being carted around by the prince until one of his servants accidentally woke her up). Also, in The Little Mermaid, the mermaid’s unable to speak because she had her tongue cut out >__<
But I’d love to see faithful adaptations of the original tales. Especially Bluebeard. We need a Bluebeard adaptation.
Actually, the original-original pre-Grimm Brothers’ stories that were passed around Europe via oral tradition are nowhere near as violent as the Grimm’s made them. Cinderella’s stepsisters were never ugly and kept their eyes, Snow White’s mother was not even a villain (instead a group of bandits were), and instead of spending the whole story napping Sleeping Beauty outwitted a dangerous bandit leader, wouldn’t let him sleep with her, and saved herself.
The original oral stories were radically changed by the Brothers Grimm to fit their personal and political beliefs. Most notably, they often added in female characters solely for the purpose of making them evil villains and took away most of the heroines’ agency and intelligence. Both brothers belonged to a small fanatical sect of Catholicism that vilified women because of the idea of Original Sin and Wilhelm in particular had a particularly deep hatred of women. The Grimms were actually pretty horrible people. Those cannibalistic queens and ugly stepsisters and the mass amount of violence against women didn’t exist until the Grimms wanted them to. Their ideas stuck so soundly though that we now assume they were in the original tales and that these terrible characters and ideas come out of some perceived barbaric Old World culture. But in truth they’re really the Grimms’ weird obsession with hating women showing through. The original oral folklore focused on the heroes’ and heroines’ good deeds and used them as ways to teach cultural norms and a society’s rules and encouraged girls to be quick-witted and street-savvy instead of passive princesses, and the Grimms promptly stripped that all away.
"Grimms Bad Girls and Bold Boys" by Ruth Bottingheimer is an excellent book on this
According to their survey, men hate when women wear beanies, floppy hats, hair bows, open-side shirts, oversize sweaters, shoulder pads, peplums, bandeau bikinis (“they just make your shoulders look like a linebacker”), bright lipstick, heavy eye makeup, fake nails, bangles, pointy-toed shoes, wedge sneakers, ultra-high heels, fold-over ankle boots (“it looks like the shoes have foreskins”), high-waisted jeans, high-waisted shorts, high-waisted skirts (“it lacks a certain degree of subtlety”), pantsuits (“you’re a woman, not a man”), drop-crotch pants (“really, any loose fitting pants,) and mullet dresses (“I just don’t get it — where’s the fucking party??? You are covering the back!”). The question is how to wear all of these things at once.
Who among you will say CHALLENGE ACCEPTED?(via maureenjohnsonbooks)
I have gotten one question repeatedly from young men. These are guys who liked the book, but they are honestly confused. They ask me why Melinda was so upset about being raped.
The first dozen times I heard this, I was horrified. But I heard it over and over again. I realized that many young men are not being taught the impact that sexual assault has on a woman. They are inundated by sexual imagery in the media, and often come to the (incorrect) conclusion that having sex is not a big deal. This, no doubt, is why the number of sexual assaults is so high.
Laurie Halse Anderson, author of Speak, on the question “Have any readers ever asked questions that shocked you?”
Read that again. Read it again, and again, and again. Over and over guys have asked her why Melinda was so upset about being raped. This is a girl who went to a party with friends. She was thirteen. She had a drink, because everyone else was. And a senior held her down and raped her while she was too drunk to get away.
And guys don’t understand why she was upset.
Read that again and then come back and tell me again why I should just shut up and take a joke when a comedian blows off rape as a big deal, or women’s bodies are casually treated as commodities in media. Remind me why I shouldn’t care about the very real harm that society’s treatment of women and sexual assault does
can we make this the training video for employees everywhere
The original story of the little mermaid is that she must kill the prince in order to be human, and in the end, she loves him too much and kills herself instead.
Ok, ok - important expansion: she only has to kill the Prince because the deal was if he fell in love with her she could be human forever, and he didn’t. By which I mean, he was a good person and genuinely nice to her, but he didn’t fall in love. He fell in love with someone else, also perfectly nice - not the seawitch in disguise, fu Disney. The Mermaid is told she can only return to the sea now if she kills the Prince. She goes into the room where he and his lover lie sleeping and they look so beautiful and happy together that she can’t do it.
That’s why she kills herself. And because it was a noble act she returns to sea as foam.
One moral of the story was that women shouldn’t fundamentally change who they are for love of a man, and in theory Hans Christian Anderson wrote it for a ballerina with whom he fell in love. She was marrying someone else who wouldn’t let her dance.
OKAY MOTHER FUCKERS CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS PLEASE OKAY GOOD. Y’ALL DOUCHE CANOES BETTER STEP THE FUCK OFF OF GIRLS. MAYBE A GIRL WANTS A CUTE LITTLE FEATHER OF A FLOCK OF BIRDS OR AN ANCHOR ON HER BODY. MAYBE SHE DOESN’T. MAYBE HER GENDER DOESN’T DEFINE OR CONTROL ANY OF THAT. WHO ARE YOU TO MOTHER FUCKING JUDGE HER FOR WHATEVER SHE GETS. IT’S HER FUCKING BODY. ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A TATTOO ARTIST LIKE HOW CAN YOU SUPPORT TATTOOS AND THE BODILY AUTONOMY AND SELF EXPRESSION WHICH GOES WITH THEM BUT THEN MAKE EXCEPTIONS FOR WOMEN. FUCK. THAT. FUCK. YOU.
IF YOU’RE GONNA CRITICIZE ANY OF THESE TATTOO CHOICES, CRITICIZE THE DREAM CATCHER FOR CULTURAL APPROPRIATION. OTHERWISE FUCK THE FUCK OFF.
IF I WANT A CUTE ASS STEREOTYPICAL TATTOO IM GONNA GET ONE AND I WILL NOT NEED YOUR DOUCHY APPROVAL, YOU HUMAN BUTT-PLUG.
If you consider a woman less pure after you’ve touched her, maybe you should take a look at your hands.
"I don’t like playing as female protagonists in games because I can’t identify with them and it breaks immersion!"
yeah well if a bedroom-dwelling white uni girl like myself can get pretty deeply and emotionally immersed into the character of a black male convicted murderer in a zombie apocalypse then you being unable to play a character just because they have a vajayjay is pretty damn pathetic
THIS EXACTLY THIS.
Anonymous asked: I understand trying to make comics female friendly, but aren't you guys worried that you're going to lose your core audience which is male? In the X-books you've had more focus on the likes on these females like jean and kitty while it should be Cyclops who has been the star of the X-Men comics for years. What warrants these characters more page time than him? Jean and kitty are secondary characters. You guys listen too much to women bitching. They cause so much freakin drama in comicdom.
Wow. you are the first person who I am kind of glad asked your question anonymously because I don’t want to know you.
as a reader of my work I want you to listen to me very carefully: you have major major issues. almost every line of your question reeks of complete misunderstanding of yourself as a man and of women in general.
it’s okay to find yourself more interested in something than others, of course it is, it’s okay to like Cyclops more than Jean Grey, but for you to draw the line at women characters not being interesting to you because you are a man or that you think I am being manipulated by some bitching women is really out there.
and as a reader of the X-Men whose entire philosophy is about tolerance and understanding… you are missing the point.
The rape joke is that you were 19 years old.
The rape joke is that he was your boyfriend.
The rape joke it wore a goatee. A goatee.
Imagine the rape joke looking in the mirror, perfectly reflecting back itself, and grooming itself to look more like a rape joke. “Ahhhh,” it thinks. “Yes. A goatee.”
The rape joke is that he was seven years older. The rape joke is that you had known him for years, since you were too young to be interesting to him. You liked that use of the word interesting, as if you were a piece of knowledge that someone could be desperate to acquire, to assimilate, and to spit back out in different form through his goateed mouth.
Then suddenly you were older, but not very old at all.
The rape joke is that you had been drinking wine coolers. Wine coolers! Who drinks wine coolers? People who get raped, according to the rape joke.
The rape joke is he was a bouncer, and kept people out for a living.
The rape joke is that he carried a knife, and would show it to you, and would turn it over and over in his hands as if it were a book.
He wasn’t threatening you, you understood. He just really liked his knife.
The rape joke is he once almost murdered a dude by throwing him through a plate-glass window. The next day he told you and he was trembling, which you took as evidence of his sensitivity.
How can a piece of knowledge be stupid? But of course you were so stupid.
The rape joke is that sometimes he would tell you you were going on a date and then take you over to his best friend Peewee’s house and make you watch wrestling while they all got high.
The rape joke is that his best friend was named Peewee.
OK, the rape joke is that he worshiped The Rock.
Like the dude was completely in love with The Rock. He thought it was so great what he could do with his eyebrow.
The rape joke is he called wrestling “a soap opera for men.” Men love drama too, he assured you.
The rape joke is that his bookshelf was just a row of paperbacks about serial killers. You mistook this for an interest in history, and laboring under this misapprehension you once gave him a copy of Günter Grass’s My Century, which he never even tried to read.
It gets funnier.
The rape joke is that he kept a diary. I wonder if he wrote about the rape in it.
The rape joke is that you read it once, and he talked about another girl. He called her Miss Geography, and said “he didn’t have those urges when he looked at her anymore,” not since he met you. Close call, Miss Geography!
The rape joke is that he was your father’s high-school student—your father taught World Religion. You helped him clean out his classroom at the end of the year, and he let you take home the most beat-up textbooks.
The rape joke is that he knew you when you were 12 years old. He once helped your family move two states over, and you drove from Cincinnati to St. Louis with him, all by yourselves, and he was kind to you, and you talked the whole way. He had chaw in his mouth the entire time, and you told him he was disgusting and he laughed, and spat the juice through his goatee into a Mountain Dew bottle.
The rape joke is that come on, you should have seen it coming. This rape joke is practically writing itself.
The rape joke is that you were facedown. The rape joke is you were wearing a pretty green necklace that your sister had made for you. Later you cut that necklace up. The mattress felt a specific way, and your mouth felt a specific way open against it, as if you were speaking, but you know you were not. As if your mouth were open ten years into the future, reciting a poem called Rape Joke.
The rape joke is that time is different, becomes more horrible and more habitable, and accommodates your need to go deeper into it.
Just like the body, which more than a concrete form is a capacity.
You know the body of time is elastic, can take almost anything you give it, and heals quickly.
The rape joke is that of course there was blood, which in human beings is so close to the surface.
The rape joke is you went home like nothing happened, and laughed about it the next day and the day after that, and when you told people you laughed, and that was the rape joke.
It was a year before you told your parents, because he was like a son to them. The rape joke is that when you told your father, he made the sign of the cross over you and said, “I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” which even in its total wrongheadedness, was so completely sweet.
The rape joke is that you were crazy for the next five years, and had to move cities, and had to move states, and whole days went down into the sinkhole of thinking about why it happened. Like you went to look at your backyard and suddenly it wasn’t there, and you were looking down into the center of the earth, which played the same red event perpetually.
The rape joke is that after a while you weren’t crazy anymore, but close call, Miss Geography.
The rape joke is that for the next five years all you did was write, and never about yourself, about anything else, about apples on the tree, about islands, dead poets and the worms that aerated them, and there was no warm body in what you wrote, it was elsewhere.
The rape joke is that this is finally artless. The rape joke is that you do not write artlessly.
The rape joke is if you write a poem called Rape Joke, you’re asking for it to become the only thing people remember about you.
The rape joke is that you asked why he did it. The rape joke is he said he didn’t know, like what else would a rape joke say? The rape joke said YOU were the one who was drunk, and the rape joke said you remembered it wrong, which made you laugh out loud for one long split-open second. The wine coolers weren’t Bartles & Jaymes, but it would be funnier for the rape joke if they were. It was some pussy flavor, like Passionate Mango or Destroyed Strawberry, which you drank down without question and trustingly in the heart of Cincinnati Ohio.
Can rape jokes be funny at all, is the question.
Can any part of the rape joke be funny. The part where it ends—haha, just kidding! Though you did dream of killing the rape joke for years, spilling all of its blood out, and telling it that way.
The rape joke cries out for the right to be told.
The rape joke is that this is just how it happened.
The rape joke is that the next day he gave you Pet Sounds. No really. Pet Sounds. He said he was sorry and then he gave you Pet Sounds. Come on, that’s a little bit funny.
Critically acclaimed poet and Twitter sexter Patricia Lockwood may have the final word in the rape joke debate with her incredible poem “Rape Joke,” published in the Awl today.
As writer Lindy West has said, the problem with rape jokes are that they’re “contributing to a culture that perpetuates” the trivialization of rape and domestic violence. Lockwood’s poem is a literal interpretation of the message that rape jokes send.
The rape joke is that he was your boyfriend.
Though you did dream of killing the rape joke for years, spilling all of its blood out, and telling it that way.
nah man life doesn’t get better when you educate yourself about feminism. life gets considerably harder. bc all of a sudden you pick up on all of these problematic things people you care about say and you start noticing every little way women are degraded and held down in society and you become hyperaware of how you speak and what you say and it’s really, really difficult and tiresome.
Not to mention you’ll never fully enjoy any song ever again, or most movies, TV shows, books, COMMERCIALS especially, or video games. Yes, it is actually worth it & very important. But sometimes it sucks.
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