Shared posts

22 Jul 01:16

(untitled)

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

At 12 years old I already knew that I could not trust my parents to give me honest, accurate information about sex and sexuality, about puberty, about masturbation, about desire and lust.

I had too little access to any other resources — at that age, it wasn’t a simple matter of “just get online,” even though I certainly did access what I could through the text-only web on dial-up as the opportunity came up. I also checked out books from the public library, including one erotic novel which will always hold a special place in my heart.

And yes, at 12 years old I very much DID need honest, accurate information. I wasn’t trying to go out and get laid; I didn’t even know what that was, and I didn’t have any burning urgency pushing me to interact with girls or boys or anyone… but I sure could have used something besides guilt and shame about masturbating, and I could have benefited a whole lot from someone to talk to about the fantasies I was having, about the smutty stories I was reading — maybe someone who could have said to me back then “oh! You seem to have an affinity for stories about BDSM, here’s what that is, and here’s what it’s NOT, and you’re not broken.” That last bit, especially — “You’re not broken, and you’re not alone.”

There’s a piece of online fiction I started reading, all those years ago, and never finished… but I can look back now and realize that was the first place I encountered the concept of a safeword. It wasn’t called that in the story, but it was introduced in simple, clear terms that “if at any point you don’t feel like you’re enjoying what’s going on, or you want things to stop, just say this word, and everything will stop and we’ll check in on you.” It was a great example of how negotiation and safety don’t have to “interrupt” a story, just like a single line about grabbing a condom doesn’t “ruin” a story like so many people want to claim. It would have been great to have someone I could trust to talk about that kind of stuff at the time.

Honestly, I think it’s gotta be even harder now than it was almost two thirds of my life ago — at 12, too many people are eager to call you a “child,” and if you dare to respond to your body in the ways that ought to be expected, and you don’t keep silent about it, you’re branded as a pervert… or just as often as a criminal. And fewer and fewer adults are willing to take the significantly increased risk of simply sharing accurate information with a young adult, because that’s enough to brand someone as a “molester” and a pervert… and, often, as a criminal as well.

I had sexual or erotic fantasies from at least the age of 5. From anecdotes I’ve heard from many other men and women both in person and online, I’m not nearly alone in that. I cannot count the times I’ve heard “oh, yeah… I was masturbating at 3 or 4. Didn’t know what it was, then, but I sure did!” We need to stop pretending that such things cannot possibly happen, and stop acting as if intentionally denying access to knowledge will *ever* help a society. It just doesn’t work that way.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:16

A loveless sonnet

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

It seems, at first, an echo that we hear
That others speak the feelings in our heart
Yet once again the joy gives way to fear
Those who received now set themselves apart
An echo now distorted, signal lost
Transmission failed, the message won’t go through
When eyes and ears stay closed at any cost
An echo can’t be heard; signs, out of view
Some say they know the forms that love can take
And what they’re sure that love can never be
And swans are always white, but in this lake
A swan is black and swimming gracefully.
Seek pleasure first, let others do the same;
Perhaps one day we’ll speak love by its name.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:16

Morning walks and late-night talks, oh how I loved you then…

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

~sigh~ seeing pictures of adorable (a-dork-able, even) light-and-dark femme couples online, and stopping to remind myself that I do NOT miss my ex.

I miss the sex, and it’s okay that the rest of her is gone. I don’t miss the constant fighting about the same things over again, I don’t miss the inability to communicate about anything important,I don’t miss MFP trying to project her issues with/fears of substance (ab)use on me, I don’t miss her constantly being scared to touch me during sex or the fact that she needed me to treat her like she was made of the most delicate glass when it came to sex — and then to only find out sometimes days later that she’d yet again “felt like I’d violated her” when everything I could see had been full of constant check-ins and lots of explicit communication and apparent enthusiastic consent and participation, only to find that I had somehow been The Bad Guy yet again.

I’ll eventually find someone who wants me, I’m sure. I’ll eventually have my needs met, sexually and as far as having a stable roof overhead, and with everything else, too. But, holy fuck it’s tough… seeing so many people around me who have their needs met, and struggling to keep going without mine being addressed…


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:16

(untitled)

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

I don’t write much here anymore. I want to. I always want to. There are always ideas running through my head, tagged as “this will eventually be a blog post” and “I really ought to expand on that idea, there’s a lot I could say about it.”

And I’m not here writing because real life has been fucking overwhelming. I still don’t have a place to live, I’m no closer than I have been (if anything, I’m further away from that goal) and I’m almost always stressed out and too tense and it’s just… GAHHHHHHH!!! so much of the time.

And I don’t write because I can’t breathe and I don’t write because I can’t give enough of a fuck to uncurl from fetal and do anything at all, and I don’t write because it’s fucking exhausting and I don’t have the energy to even take care of basic hygiene.

There is so much of me that I want to get out, to do something with, to share with the world. And until I have a safe, stable, long-term place to live, that won’t happen. And I don’t know how to make that happen. It scares the fuck out of me, that I have no clue how I’m going to figure out a place to live. To suspect/know that it will take someone else making things happen, and hating to know that it will never be on my own that I make anything important happen.

And then I have a whole other paragraph to write but as soon as I start I realize I’m too angry to keep going, and that’s often the point where the entire post goes into the trash.

So I’m hitting “publish” with no proofreading, because I want to write. Need to write. And fuck it, here it is.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:16

(untitled)

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

(I started writing this on Facebook and decided to put it here instead…)

How I know the stress is getting really fucking bad: an old muscle tic in my neck is back. Grinding something near my vocal cords that makes the lump in my neck bounce up and down, it makes a grinding noise and feels horrible. But I do it when I’m this tense.

I am constantly aware of just how much trauma and tension my body carries. I hold it, I carry it, I feel it. I don’t have the capacity to ignore it completely. I can shut off my acknowledgement of it, in the same way that I can shut off my acknowledgement of blisters upon blisters when I’ve had to walk 10 miles in a day with old socks and poorly-fitting shoes, in the same way that I can turn off my acknowledgement of my hunger when I haven’t had enough to eat for a week and I know I won’t have enough to eat for months.

But it never leaves me, and my awareness of it is never lacking. There are occasional moments where the beauty of some intoxicating substance or other allows me to forget it for a moment, but that awareness returns too quickly. And I don’t want that temporary break, I want to address the actual issues. I could take aspirin if I had an icepick lodged in my skull, but that’s not an ideal way of dealing with the situation.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:15

(untitled)

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

It keeps throwing me, the way that so many people conceive “having sex” as explicitly and only a penis in a vagina.

Like, distinguishing between “well, I got my cunt fingered and had the most AMAZING orgasm, but I didn’t have sex with that person.” I dunno, maybe I just have a wider concept of what sex can be than some people?

But I would totally count manual simulation to climax as sex. Cunnilingus? Sex. Mashing body against body with no penetration? Sex — even if there were no orgasms had by any of the participants. I mean, how is it possible for two cis* women to EVER “have sex” if the only thing that actually qualifies is a flesh phallus being pushed into a pussy? And yes, I know that’s exactly what has been historically used to “other” lesbians, to claim that it was a perversion of the Natural Way Of Things, etc.

But like… it’s hard to keep in mind that there’s no contradiction for a lot of people when they say “I might fool around a little bit but I won’t have sex” — even if that “fooling around” includes fingers on genitals, even if it includes kissing, even if it includes using toys on/in/with someone. To me, all of that is sex. To many other people, none of that is “having sex,” and it’s confusing for me.

You know who else puts a huge focus on “the singular sex act” though? Proponents of the proven-to-fail “abstinence-only” sex education. It’s the reason that there’s “the loophole” — anal sex isn’t “sex” and so the artificially constructed concept of “virginity” remains intact. Blowjobs? Not sex, apparently, depending on who you ask and when.

So when I talk about the lack of sex in my life, I’m not saying “I haven’t put my cock into any cis* chick’s cunt as much as I’d like.” And honestly, while that is one of the few things that I’d like to have happen, it’s not high on the list. I’m saying that as far as any of the myriad things that sex can be, I’ve had very limited opportunities for any of those. Being held close while I use my hands to cum… is sex. Being held close while someone else uses their hands to make me cum… also sex. That’s about the extent of the few-and-far-between encounters I’ve had in a very long time, though, and I want both more frequency and more variations — there are lots of fun things I’d like to try, and lots of things I’d love to do again, and they all involve other willing human participants.

I wonder if there’s a communication gap, then, when I say I want sex and other people hear “I wanna stick it in you.” Because that’s not at all what I mean. I mean, if it happens, that’s also nice — but it’s not the thing I’m aiming for above all else.

I need intimacy. I need connection. And like many of my needs, it’s just going to wait, seemingly forever.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:15

Poem after a night of too little sleep

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

Midnight.
Exhausted. Shouldn’t have had so much caffeine.
I’m not going to sleep…
May as well clean.
There’s rearranging to do,
I’ve been putting it off too long.

4:04am
Error. Sleep not found.
I’m not only tired,
But physically drained
As well.
Sleep still won’t come
(and I don’t have the energy
to make myself come)
So I’ll take a bath instead,
Hope to wind down.

5:15am
“Past five in the morning
Feeling worse for the weather,
It seems…”
Erasure flits through my head
As so often happens
And I’m wishing I could sleep.
Still.
Turn on my computer
Click around on
Facebook for a few.
Killing time.

6:34am
I can feel my eyelids hanging heavy.
I post my standard
“G’night, FB!” photo and caption
Too tired to add
“song for the night, tumblr blog for the night”
Showcasing and sharing
Fun findings, sweet sounds
Finally drift off to slumber.

12:22pm
Wake up again.
Fuck, seriously?
One Two Two Two,
Ungh, too-too-too early
To be awake yet —
I only got to sleep less than
Sex hours ago.
Shit. I mean
Six
Hours ago. Fuck, I’m horny.
Back to sleep.

2:03pm
Eyes slowly open yet again.
Two or three… shit, even one
Warm body next to/inside/around mine
Would be lovely, but that’s not the way
I went down. It went down. Fuck.
Still horny.
Back to sl–
No, actually, full-to-nearly-bursting bladder
Says head in to the bathroom.
Then maybe back to sleep.

2:12pm
Two twelve-year-olds
Would mean a world of trouble
If they were in my bed. Don’t
Give it a second thought.
Go to sleep, dear,
Alone. Please, get some more
Sleep. You need the rest.

2:30pm
But… fuck!
A butt-fuck would be better
Than the gut-wrenching rumble
Of jet engines low overhead
Joined by the groaning, crashing roar
Of the central heating blasting too-hot air
Through an already over-warmed house
And the thump and beep-beep-beep
Of construction crews still hard at work
Replacing the sewer mains
In the neighborhood.

3:00pm
Three. The wishes, so they say,
From a “magic” lamp
And the powerful creature contained within.
If given the chance
I’d ask first
For a stable, safe, long-term place to live
Second
For the means to satisfy my body’s appetites:
Food for the hunger of my belly, variety and quantity
Sex for the lust that drives me, never lacking willing and eager partners
Intoxicants for the occasional desire to shift my conscious state
And third, finally,
For the financial means to care for myself
And to positively impact the lives of any and all
Who I saw lacking in their needs
The ability to alleviate suffering in all its forms
Even if only temporarily.

And then, I’d probably take a nap.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:15

Hands, touching hands… reaching out

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

I need hands on my body
Hands on my skin
Touch I have hungered for
Needed so long
Want to be needed
Need to be kneaded
Massage
Muscle-knots always so tense
Carry all this anxiety
Walking with so much
Desire
Anger
Hurt
Too lonely
Still lovely
Vulnerably passionate
Predictably volatile
Pleadingly versatile
I need…

TOUCH.


Filed under: General
22 Jul 01:15

Baby, please hold me; make all those bad dreams disappear.

by Sophia, NOT Loren!

Y’know, I look back at my writing from when I first started blogging, under an alias, behind a mask…

And I was so much more open, so much more honest. I wrote what I felt, said what I meant, was explicit because it never occurred to me to make things “polite” or “safe for work.”

And somewhere along the way, I started censoring myself. I stopped saying what I meant because someone might see it and criticize me over it. I wrote less of what I really felt because those emotions didn’t really need to be “broadcast” so loudly. I turned to euphemism because I was told that I was too crass, too vulgar, too much.

I have been struggling to remember how to do what I once did. I have to work to un-learn the bad habits I’ve picked up.


I really want to be fisted. I have been craving that for quite some time now. I’ve stopped bothering to count the days (the years) since I’ve had my ass fucked, I just know it’s been too long. It’s always too long between. Between any particular sex act, between any sex at all with another person (masturbation is just sex with myself, even if I’m someone I love.)

I have so many things that I need, sexually. And if you count masochism as a separate thing from sex (I don’t always, but sometimes…), then there’s still plenty in that regard that I need and lack.

But what’s been on my mind the last few days as much as anything else, is how much I miss the little bits of affection that often come along with having a girlfriend: running her fingers through my hair, a hand on my cheek, a hug hello, a quick little peck of a kiss before bed, a smile as she catches me looking at her with lust, putting on an impromptu sexy dance to a song that’s playing, putting on an impromptu silly performance to a song that’s playing, making breakfast together in our underwear, relaxing as she gets dinner started, calling out for delivery and scrambling to get dressed to answer the door because we got distracted fooling around while waiting, holding her close while she cried on my shoulder, being held close while I cried on hers, the look in her eyes when she’s lost in thought, the little “you okay? wanna talk?” when she sees the pain in my eyes…

I miss having someone around, someone who cares. And yeah, holy fuck, do I miss having sex more than once every few months and trying to be grateful for what I do have… but I think if I absolutely had to choose, right now, between the two…? I’d take the affection and romance over eating pussy and having my ass fisted while I cum.

I’m lonely. And it’s more than touch that I crave.


Filed under: General
23 May 11:04

What if I'm the kindest demon, something you may not believe in?

I’m happy, for the first time in my life.  I’ve found myself, who I am, and it all fits so perfectly — I’m a transwoman, lesbian, getting to know some awesome folks in several queer communities, people who understand what it means to be “different,” how it feels to be “other.”

I have a home, one that (with some work on my part) should be a long-term place to live, and some roommates who (despite my bitching and moments of frustration) are genuinely good people, and who want to put effort into working with me to make this a welcoming space.

I don’t always have all of my needs met, and I frequently lack even some of the most basic life necessities, but I get by, and I’m finding ways to address those needs better and more often.

But sometimes… sometimes in those most quiet of moments, when everything else fades away… sometimes when I’m alone, and my thoughts turn inward… sometimes there’s a quiet voice with only one small question:

“What if they’re right?”

It’s a question that I’d like to just ignore. It’s a persistent little voice, though, and eventually I do answer:

“They’re not.  You know it — you just told me, point by point, everything about how you know you’re happy, the things that you can measure and compare, and the certainty you have of yourself and your path in life.  They’re wrong.”

“Well… yeah, I know.  But… really, though — what if it’s all true?  What if the choices you’re making really are sinful, what if you’re just mistaking the temporary pleasures you’ve found for joy, the lasting kind of joy that can’t ever be had from the things of this world?  What then?”

“I… I guess I could consider the possibility for a moment.  Okay — if they’re right, which I don’t believe, then… then…”

“Go on, say it.  Get it out.”

“Then I’m setting myself up for eventual pain, loneliness, suffering and sorrow sometime in this life — just delaying the day that it comes while I pretend that I’ve found joy… and, I suppose it also– ~sigh~ I suppose it also means that if I continue down the road I’m traveling now, then after I die I’ll be confronted with the undeniable knowledge that I have done wrong, that I was given the truth and consciously chose to disregard it… that I’ll spend the rest of forever kept away from my family, the people who I love most and who love me, weighed down by the guilt of turning away, the shame of having chosen to sin, the endless suffering of having walked away from what could have been, without another chance to fix things.”

“How does it feel?”

“God… it hurts.  It’s scary, scary beyond belief.  It’s irrational, illogical, completely contradicting the things I can directly observe, but there’s just this… this fear, this doubt, y’know?  Because if I’m wrong, then I’m even more fucked than I can imagine, and I lose my family forever, I hurt more than I ever have or can ever imagine… but I don’t know how to do anything else now, and the whole cycle of guilt and shame and ‘repentance’ just isn’t something I can do again, not after knowing what else is out there.  But… I just don’t know.”

“No… you don’t, do you?  And you won’t know until the day you die.  The uncertainty won’t kill you, though.  Trust me, you’ve got a lot of years left to go.  I’ll be back to ask you the question again, when you’ve forgotten about me, when you think you’re doing well, when you’ve stopped expecting me…”

And so it goes, the little questioning voice leaves me for a while, lets me go back to remembering how awesome it feels to be “out and proud and loud,” how exciting it is to discover new kinds of kinky fun that I enjoy, to have incredible sex once in a while, and to actively look for pleasure and happiness with other people who like the same things.  I go back to the struggles and the joys of every day, like the ones that came before.

It’ll be back, I know.  I don’t know that I can do anything about it besides have the same fight again when it decides to trouble me — but for now I’ve come out on top.  We’ll see what happens next time…

23 May 11:03

Beautiful woman! You must have had your moments inside the sun.

As I’m sitting here playing with my randomized-wallpaper-changing utility, going through my “sexy naked girls” folder trying to find a pair of pictures that I like (one for each screen), I realized something.

Most of these photos, the ones with “beautiful” women, are skinny white girls, they’re studio photography, edited and oh-so-obviously posed but trying to look like “oops! Did I have a picture snapped when I was just sitting here with no clothes and touching myself? Tee-hee!”

Sure, as a blossoming young feminist, I’ve been reading plenty about privilege, about the lack of representation in every arena — not only, but definitely in pornography — of other races, body types, genders, sexual orientations, and more.  Sure, I understood, on some level, that it’s a Big Fucking Problem that the images available and often thrown in your face of what “beautiful” looks like aren’t anything like you, that even the women held up as the ultimate ideal to strive for, even they are photoshopped and enhanced because even they aren’t good enough.

But tonight I really, really “got it.”  I found words for my frustration at being unable to find just two beautiful women to display on my computer screen out of the thousands of pictures in this folder, as I said:

I don’t want photos of airbrushed, post-processed, blemish-free, makeup-caked girls taken with leading-edge, brand-name, professional-grade cameras and fill lighting.

I don’t want that same fucking facial expression — the one that’s supposed to say “Ohhhh, so good!” but to me just says “Oh, so what?”

I don’t want photography that sucks the soul out of a woman who might be beautiful, and leaves a plastic, packaged, profit-making product.

I want women who are beautiful, women who have been captured on film (or in pixels, with current technology) because they are beautiful and worth sharing.

I want big women, who rock their curvy bodies and aren’t being marketed as a niche fetish for losers and weirdos.

I want women with skin any color besides the narrow range of white from “porcelain” to “peach.”

I want women who might not have been assigned that gender at birth — again, not because they’re being marketed exploited as some freak of nature, but because they’re fucking sexy, and worth being photographed showing off their sexy selves.

I want to see women who are just as gorgeous as the girls I see walking around town every day, almost none of whom even remotely resemble the ones in the majority of this collection of pictures I have.

I want to see the beautiful women who don’t go out much, the ones who are too ashamed of how they look to walk around, who sometimes believe the loud messages, the flood of lies telling them they’re ugly, telling them they’re unwanted and undesired.

I want women who might not believe how incredible they look because if someone actually tells them they’re beautiful, it must be a flattering lie to get something in return.

I want real women, real beauty, celebrating the sexiness that we naturally have.  Keep the plastic, and show me some skin!

23 May 08:35

Carlo Mollino’s private Polaroids

by Violet Blue

Carlo Mollino (1905-1973) was an architect, designer, photographer and writer, not to mention a race-car driver and a pilot. His buildings include the Royal Theatre in Turin, and his furniture, like his photography, is ever more valuable. In 2005, a Mollino table sold for $3.8 million, setting a world record for twentieth-century decorative art.

Upon his death, it was discovered that he had a vast, stunning body of work in Polaroids spanning 1962-1973.

DesignBoom tells us that these were, “the private photographic work he kept which included over 1,000 polaroids portraying beauties of Turin’s nightlife in the nude in mise-en-scène settings. These photographs were part of the preparation of his “house for the warrior’s rest,” known as Casa Mollino, a villa in Turin, situated along the River Po.”

Mollino, said to be one of Italy’s most influential mid-20th century designers, wanted to model his death on those of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs, whose souls were taken by boat to a sumptuous city, where they enjoyed opulent afterlives. Casa Mollino was a house he created for his afterlife, “inspired by the project of the construction of the Egyptian pyramid which is the house for the perpetuity of the pharaohs.”

Flashbak has this nice collection. See also, more here and here.

23 May 08:07

Why You MUST See Mad Max This Weekend

by Natalie Wilson

212061A version of this article originally appeared on Skirt Collective

Much has been made of the call by Aaron Clarey in his piece “Why You Should Not Go See ‘Mad Max: Feminist Road.’” As many articles have discussed Clarey’s ridiculous, hyper-macho douchery, (for example, herehere and here), I will instead offer a counter call: Instead of “mancotting” the film as Clarey begs “real men and real women” to do, I urge you to GO SEE IT! Go now!

Here is part of Clarey’s original call for a boycott of the film:

[D]o yourself and all men across the world a favor. Not only REFUSE to see the movie, but spread the word to as many men as possible. Not all of them have the keen eye we do here at [Return of Kings]. And most will be taken in by fire, tornadoes and explosions. Because if they sheepishly attend and Fury Road is a blockbuster, then you, me, and all the other men (and real women) in the world will never be able to see a real action movie ever again that doesn’t contain some damn political lecture or moray about feminism, SJW-ing and socialism.

In response, here is my counter feminist call to action: Do yourself and others a favor—see Mad Max: Fury Road and tell as many humans as you know to see the film, to discuss it on social media, to decry the Men’s Rights Activists aiming to make the world a hyper-patriarchal dystopia where heterosexual macho types horde all the power with their weapons of choice, namely violence, oppression, rape, enslavement and hatred.

Not all people will recognize the importance of supporting this film, many may go for the special effects and the popcorn, but even if they don’t attend wearing “This Is What a Feminist Looks Like” t-shirts, they will still be treated to a great action movie which enacts feminism in both content and form. Those who see the film will help to pave the way for a future where real humans can enjoy movies that reflect the real world, which is made up of women AND men, boys AND girls, where gender is a continuum and NO, romance and baby-making are not the be-all and end-all of life.

See Mad Max: Fury Road. See it as soon as possible.

See it because Charlize Theron is amazing, Tom Hardy is a new and improved Max, and because the action is breathtaking and achieved with very little CGI.

See it because director George Miller happily proclaims: “I can’t help but be a feminist” and believes women are capable as actors and directors and are essential to telling imaginative, important stories—something that is all too rare a belief in Hollywood, where in the last several years, women directed less than 2 percent of top-grossing movies.

See it because it was edited by a woman, Margaret Sixel.

See it because Eve Ensler led workshops about violence against women with the cast and crew.

See it because, as MRA Clarey readily admits (perhaps his one correct point), Hollywood DOES condition us. As Carolyn Cox of The Mary Sue puts it,

By admitting they’re threatened by Charlize Theron … Clarey and his commenters are also agreeing that the media we consume and the stories we tell are hugely important.

See it because while Clarey worries women might be conditioned to want to be more like Imperator Furiosa than Sophia Loren (I know, WTF???), we can use that conditioning instead to feminist purpose. As Melissa Silverstein puts it,

A little girl can dream of being a hero just as much as a little boy can because she sees multiple examples of heroic women.

See it because, as Peter Howell documents, “Hollywood doesn’t often let females star in its big ‘tent-pole’ films” because “Male-dominated movie studios don’t believe female action movies make money.” See it because we need to remind Hollywood and MRAs this is false (as Hunger Games, InsurgentAlien, Terminator and so many other films prove that point).

See it to disprove Neanderthal thinking on the part of Marvel Comics CEO Ike Perlmutter and Sony Entertainment CEO Michael Lynton who in a leaked email correspondence “proved” female superhero films don’t make money by naming three such films while ignoring the many female-driven films that have made money and dismissing just how many male-led superhero films have tanked.

See it because Clarey’s assertions are laughable, and contrary to his claim that “feminism has infiltrated and co-opted Hollywood,” we still have a Hollywood machine driven by a privileged male elite who don’t seem to want to give up their own little version of the world, their very own MRA movement—“Men Rule Art.”

See it because there is a culture shift happening in media, a wave that includes GamerGate, calls to stop online harassment (#StoptheTrolls), an evergrowing feminist blogosphere, and a growing call to Hollywood to wake up and smell the feminism.

See it because while some see MRAs as a non-threatening fringe, they DO warrant attention because they consistently and vehemently offer sexism as the answer and their websites and organizations garner thousands of followers. (For some truly horrifying evidence about MRA beliefs, you need look no further than David Futrelle’s piece on We Hunted the Mammoth, which documents some truly horrifying comments running the gamut from espousing beating one’s wife to denouncing one’s daughters if they dare to have college aspirations.)

See it because, as noted by Nicole Sperling in her piece on the film for Entertainment Weekly, it is “one glorious, relentless assault” that may make us “never look at action movies quite the same way again.” As Sperling notes, the film “challenges our perceptions about women and freedom, heroism and extremism.” However, while Sperling claims the film focuses on the “slavery endured by all women,” I would extend this—the film actually details how everyone is enslaved by patriarchy. Yes, the women are the sex slaves whose bodies are raped as well as forced into producing breast milk to feed male troops, but the male minions are also enslaved to the dystopian war machine and turned into heartless warriors and slave-laborers.

See it because Furiosa is not a “degendered…eunech warrior” (as claimed in the Sperling review) but rather a gender-queer, disabled, bad-ass feminist hero who proves that heroism has no one gender, no one body type, no one sexuality

See it because it suggests it will take collective action rather than one lone (male) hero to save the future. In the film, it takes Furiosa, five female “breeders,” a group of badass gun-toting grannies, as well as Mad Max and other males tuned to the feminist cause to bring down the likes of Immorten Joe, the villain at the heart of this iteration whose names speaks to the fact patriarchy is not “immortal” nor is the concept of your average (macho) Joe a thing to espouse.

See it because we are all on this tiny spinning planet together and only together can we find the “Green Place” espoused in the movie where the water will be clean and people will not be oppressed.

See it because if you have ever doubted the acting chops of Charlize Theron, this movie will convince you of her incredible talent. She is absolutely fierce as Furiosa. In a movie with very little dialogue and limited characterization, Theron is able to exude an intensity of will and palpable strength of character that is on par (if not exceeding) other female heroines such as Ripley and Sarah Connor.

See it for the grannies with their mad survival skills, for the fierce “Breeders” who refuse to be sex slaves, see it for its championing of the one-armed sharp shooter Furiosa. See it because how often do we see women portrayed as better survivors, snipers and drivers than men?

See it because it is the best feminist road movie since Thelma and Louise. See it because Furiosa’s story is so much more powerful than Black Widow’s in The Avengers. See it because we need to prove Hollywood big wigs wrong and make Clarey and his MRA minions STFU.

See it to piss off MRAs and show them feminists will not be stopped by their testicle-clutching pleas of superiority. See it for their daughters, and sons, and partners, who can hopefully grow into a world free of their “Immorten Joe” mentality.

Finally, see it because, yes, movies matter, and if we want more feminist-friendly blockbusters, we have to prove there is an audience willing to support such movies.

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natalie-150x150

 


Natalie Wilson 
teaches w
omen’s studies and literature at California State University, San Marcos. She is the author of Seduced by Twilight and blogs for Ms., Girl with Pen and Bitch Flicks.

23 May 08:05

If You Need Proof That Breast Policing Is Ridiculous, Look No Further Than These 4 Examples from Facebook

by James St. James
Person covering their breastsBy the time we got through these, we were really riled up.
23 May 08:04

"White feminists like to pretend that they get it. They get it because they’ve been there. They’ve..."

White feminists like to pretend that they get it. They get it because they’ve been there. They’ve experienced sexism. They’ve experienced misogyny. They’ve been passed over for promotions, whistled at on the street, and had to listen to boring dudes at parties who require approximately ten years of your time in order to explain how fascinating they actually are. These white women have been down in the feminist trenches for years, and like your world-weary Grandpa, they’ve seen it all. They understand the oppression of all women, ok?

Except not. Intersecting forces of oppression mean that women who are queer, racialized, disabled or trans will experience misogyny in very different (and frequently more deadly) ways than white women do. Saying that just because you’re a woman you totally understand all different ways that women are marginalized is not only wildly inaccurate, it’s also just plain ignorant. Just because you don’t have male privilege doesn’t mean you aren’t the proud owner of a whole host of other types of privilege. And whether you like it or not, those various forms of privilege influence how people treat you.

White women don’t own womanhood, and they don’t get to explain it to women of color. End of story.



- Shit White Feminists Need To Stop Doing — Human Parts — Medium (via sociolab)
23 May 08:02

gashetka: 1972 | Burroughs-Wellcome Headquarters (Research...















gashetka:

1972 | Burroughs-Wellcome Headquarters (Research Triangle Park, NC) | Design by Paul Rudolph | Source

23 May 07:59

Money For Nothing. Chicks For Free.

by Robert Farley

This calls for a more complete response:

Oh for crying out loud. Loomis, I get and enjoy your belligerent whimsy, but this is just silly. This is the Sarah Palin School of Law definition of freedom of speech.

If you don’t get that what Loomis was doing with this post was 90% belligerent whimsy, then you’ve dreadfully missed the point. The other 10% of what Loomis was doing was a coherent and quite correct argument that Google’s policy was being badly misapplied in this particular case.

Why the fuck are you guys running adsense anyway? You’re making what, 50-100 bucks a month from that? Get rid of the stupid ads (which are irrelevant at best to your readers’ interests, completely contrary to their political and moral beliefs at worst (no, I do not want to purchase a Russian bride or see Newsmax’s “one weird cure for diabetes”), frequently crash or redirect their browsers, and make the site slower. Choosing this as your hill to die on is pretty absurd given that I can’t even load this site half the time with my adblocker off.

Adsense returns about 50% of LGM’s monthly revenue. The estimate in this comment (of Adsense alone) is off by more than an order of magnitude; I don’t feel like opening up the books for the world to see, but Four Krustys either had little understanding of the traffic the site enjoys, or of how that traffic translates into revenue.

Moreover, Adsense (and Sovrn, the other provider you see in the right sidebars) has only rarely been the problem. The recent redirects to gogarden were caused by Sitemeter (now eliminated); the mobile redirects to porn sites have been due to problems with WordPress updates. The slowness of the site is much more often caused by the social media tabs (which clearly remain a problem), than with the ads on the right sidebars.

Bleg for money. We’ll pay. OK? Do a dildos-in-dead-horses-in-American-history series or something. I’ll be the first to donate.

We do. Donations last year (which I considered *extraordinarily* generous) constituted roughly 13% of site revenue. Thus, LGM readers would need to become approximately 7.7 times as generous as they have been in their most generous year on record in order to replace the revenue lost from advertising. It’s possible that we could approach *something* along these lines, if we turned the site into a semi-permanent pledge drive, but to my mind this is considerably more annoying than any problems created by the ads. If an angel donor decided to effectively bankroll the site for a year, we certainly consider reducing advertising, but barring that it’s difficult to replace.

Frankly, if your concern is Google deciding what is appropriate or inappropriate for people to see, why have you *chosen* to be part of that system? The same system that has basically destroyed journalism because sites are just trying to get clicks rather than do actual reporting? Don’t be a part of that. Don’t put your labor towards perpetuating a shitty system. There are a lot of other ad networks, and there are a lot of other ways to make money that don’t piss off your readers and sell out your values.

Right. Most of the other ad networks that can produce revenue as reliably as Google have similar effects on side readability. Most of them (Google Adsense included) place limitations on the extent of advertising allowed, meaning that you need to use more than one in order to generate the revenue you need. And many of them have similar restrictions on content.

It’s also worth pointing out that the internet advertising provision industry, as it were, has a bit of the fly by night to it. LGM has, over its history, lost *thousands* of dollars to vendors who ceased to exist between advertisement and payment. Say what you will about Google, they pay in American dollars, they pay on time, and I have reason to expect that they’ll be around for a while. This doesn’t mean that we give up our right to complain about their most annoying (or poorly applied) policies.

I should also note that LGM turns down most of the ad requests that it receives from vendors. These vendors are normally looking for three things; sponsored posts, pop-up ads, and in-post image ads. We could make a *lot* more money if we embraced a full revenue maximization model and allowed these three kinds of ads, but we decided a long time ago that there were limits to how much readability we’d sacrifice. LGM receives 3-5 requests of this sort every day; most of them go straight into the trash.

BUT WHERE DOES ALL THE MONEY GO? Several places. Our server fees have recently gone up, partially as a response to all of the problems we’ve suffered from hacks and redirects and what nots. The site, like any complex machine, requires maintenance now and again from professionals who like to be paid.

Once a site has been monetized, a variety of complications ensue. We pay taxes to a variety of different Caesars. We pay licensing fees to the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and public school fees to Fayette County. We have legal representation (thank you, Goldberg Simpson!), and a Certified Public Accountant (Jesse at Fister, Williams and Oberlander, you’re a hero to me).

But most of all, we pay our writers. Since we’ve had enough money to actually spread it around, Scott and I have been committed to ensuring that everyone who writes for LGM receives some (usually meager) compensation. This includes guest posters. Regular posters receive more, based on an ill-defined formula involving magnitude of recent contribution, and long-term tenure at the site. Part of the reason for compensation is a principled belief that we shouldn’t profit off of people working for free. A bigger part is that everyone who regularly posts at LGM could write, for money, somewhere else. LGM usually can’t compete with the cash that other outlets can offer, but the combination of near-complete editorial freedom, an outstanding commentariat, and beer money is apparently enough to inspire consistently outstanding work.

And the term “writers” really short-changes the work that LGM front-pagers do. The administrative work isn’t evenly distributed, but most of the contributors do their share of behind-the-scenes work necessary to keep the site going. This includes sharing on social media, sharing on listservs, hunting and expunging trolls in the comment section, managing site hacks, keeping the twitter feed and Facebook page updated and functional, responding to e-mail requests, putting together ESPN groups, and a host of other activities too numerous to mention. None of that is easy to see on the site, but would be badly missed if the work wasn’t done.

And since we’re all already here, let’s take this one on, too:

OK, that’s a surprising amount. I still think you could do better. (Or you know, just go whole hog and become a mesothelioma blog)

Yep.  It’s entirely possible that we could do better, and we’re trying to do better all the time.  Unfortunately, none of us have the ability to commit full time to the site in a 40-hour-per-week, professional sense of the term.  This kind of commitment is necessary to fully work out the implications of different ad strategies, and different providers.  In the absence of this sort of commitment, we default to reliable, easy to use advertisers such as Google Adsense.

I’m referring to the Cracker Barrel/Chik fil A/Mozila/etc. definition of censorship. What I’m equating is you saying that a private company making a business decision is a violation of your freedom of speech. You entered into a voluntary contract with Google AdSense. If you want to violate the agreed-upon terms of that contract (even if they’re silly!) and they don’t want to do business with you as a result of that, that’s not a violation of your freedom of speech.

And there is nothing whatsoever in Erik’s post that could even faintly be interpreted as an argument along these lines.  Rather, he’s complaining (in pointed language!) about the silly implementation of the terms of the contract. And once we grasp this, the next three paragraphs of the comment are nonsense.

When you load a page on LGM, over 3MB of bandwidth is used. 2.7MB of that bandwidth is advertising bullshit, add this, twitter widgets, etc. That sucks, especially if you’re on mobile and paying by the MB.

If you’re on a mobile phone, you’re using the mobile site, which demands far less bandwidth. And I think we can all agree that the social media buttons and the twitter feed are categorically different than the advertising that has formed the core of the complaint in these comments.

23 May 07:38

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23 May 07:37

A Softer World: 1238


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23 May 07:36

In Russia...

by Brad
6e5
23 May 07:34

Zap! Vworp! Pew! Pew!

sleep is dumb

Tonight's comic contains a very difficult Space Choice.

23 May 07:34

pbsnature: The male sage-grouse has some tricks!To establish...



pbsnature:

The male sage-grouse has some tricks!

To establish mating rights, the male birds strut about, puffing up yellow air sacs in their breasts and making a series of popping sounds to intimidate other males. For weeks, they practice their elaborate display and square off with other arriving males, battling to establish dominance and territory. Successful males then display for discriminating females and are allowed to mate only if chosen as the most suitable. The criteria are a mystery to all but the females, nearly all of which select only one or two males on the lek each year.

The full Sagebrush Sea documentary is online [x]

This busty bird is featured in this wonderful new documentary about the “Sagebrush Sea” a sea of sagebrush that once covered nearly 500,000 square miles across North America. At first glance it looks mostly empty, but if you look closer you’ll notice a variety of wildlife.

23 May 07:34

editorincreeps: soapamine: i-want-my-iwtv: dandelioncourt: // that scene where Lestat lunges at...

editorincreeps:

soapamine:

i-want-my-iwtv:

dandelioncourt:

// that scene where Lestat lunges at Louie from off screen and starts to drink from him cracks me up because it reminds me so much of the R.O.U.S.’s scene from the Princess Bride hahaha

image
image

^This is bad and I should feel bad bUT I DO NOT.

oh my god this is the best thing ever

gothiccharmschool

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Oh G-d, you’re not wrong. 

23 May 07:33

Photo



23 May 07:33

Photo







23 May 07:33

Help these 30-year-old Intellivision games live again on PC

by Timothy J. Seppala
One of the biggest problems facing video games as an artistic medium is one of preservation. Thanks to HD remasters, digital distribution and the Internet Archive that's becoming less of an issue. But we still need to do more to keep a record and con...
23 May 07:16

Twitter Exchange Of The Day

by Joe Jervis
22 May 20:18

alexsegura: THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU PLAY MUSIC



alexsegura:

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU PLAY MUSIC

22 May 20:18

Mad Max: Fury Road + Popular Text Posts Yes, perfect.

Sophianotloren

The eyeliner, though...



















Mad Max: Fury Road + Popular Text Posts

Yes, perfect.

22 May 20:17

dear tumblrseriously tumblr, i will pay you money to make this...

Sophianotloren

Oh, and the whole recent "by the way, you no longer have Like/Follow/Reblog/Dashboard" buttons in the top-right, because we replaced all of that with a LOOK, DID YOU KNOW U CAN LEIK TOTALLY SEARCH INSIDE OF TEH BLOGZ?" bar... well, that was the final straw for me. I ragequit tumblr and unless things get majorly unfucked, I won't go back.



dear tumblr

seriously tumblr, i will pay you money to make this stop.

i will pay for no ads, for a messaging system that works, and for you to stop recommending blogs to me.

i’ve been here 8 years. i will do this. please take me up on it.