5 feminist conversations i'm over

I have issues with "feminism" and somedays I am definitely 100% radical feminist and other days, I'm definitely over it. I did the women's studies degree, wrote the papers, marched at "take back the night," had the midwife when I was pregnant, etc etc etc. But now here I am writing for a feminist blog about feminist issues. I know right? What the hell am I doing? The few blogs that I've done so far have been "lamesha light," my attempt at making a good impression and not pissing off a whole bunch of people I don't even know. I don't want to insult you by writing about shit you already do and know about (washable pads, consent, etc) which I think is a little overdone. So today, for the first time, I'm going to attempt to go hardcore and write about the stupid shit I see and hear in my "feminist life" that piss me the fuck off. Hopefully you won't be offended, but if you are, I don't care. LOL

1. Chris Brown hating. We know he beat Rihanna's ass. How many years ago was that? He's done everything he has to do legal wise, and is trying to go back to work. Are we just supposed to hate him the rest of his life for something he did as a teenager? How long are we supposed to watch him squirm? He's 21, so what 60 more years? Have you ever got in a fight with someone? I know assault isn't right and hitting women is a sin but let's not forget Snoop's murder trial, R Kelly peeing on some little girl and videotaping it, Michael Jackson and those little boys, Woody Allen marrying his own daughter, John Mayer's racist dick in Playboy and overtime, those men have still prospered and everyone loves them. We don't even talk about this anymore, but Chris Brown you think should rot in hell? Let that shit go. That nigga is sorry. It's not good to spend so much time worrying about celebrities anyway.

2. "How can we get more women of color to come to our white girl feminist functions? They must not care about these issues..." and "Why aren't more women of color breastfeeding or marching or making zines?" I could go at the this one several different ways. First I am not a woman of color. I'm black. African American. Voodoo priestess. Shawty. But I refuse to be lumped in a non-white category with every other non-white woman on Earth. We aren't the minority and we are all very different; making us one category robs us of our culture. And then asking us why we don't come to your white girl feminist parties and speakers? Are you serious? Maybe we need a break from you. There's a million reasons why black and brown people don't embrace "feminism" the way white girls want us to, and I'm not going to list them all here. Just stop asking me about it. I'm not your gateway into black womanhood.

3. "porn oppresses women. prostitution is a crime. both are violence against women". ummm no.

4. We're not "women," we're "womyn/wimmin" (or some other spelling that drives my spellcheck crazy). This is stupid. We all know what you are. You aren't really causing a paradigm shift by spelling your gender differently. You're mostly just being annoying.

5. "Courtney Love. Assuming black and brown women don't like to rock out". Last week Courtney Love made an ass of herself (not the first time) in DC by pulling a black girl on stage and asking, "Do you really like rock music? Because you're African American. That would be like me being into Lil Wayne". Look that shit up. It seriously happened. Then I started thinking about all the girl bands I listen to and yeah most of them are white. I don't hate them, I actually think they're quite good, but yeah they are all white, which doesn't really mean anything, it's just interesting to think about, for a lot of reasons. Black girls rock out hardcore. Can you name 5 black rocker girls? I can't, but there are hundreds of them. I think. When you see us, don't point and stare and pull us on stage. That's seriously fucked up.

6. "Fuck these patriarchal beauty standards". I hear you loud and clear, but women wearing pink and glitter and heels are not the enemy. And believe it or not, a whole bunch of women LIKE wearing that shit. We are not dumb, less feminist or watered down because of it. A long time ago when I was in undergrad I walked up to my feminist friends sitting in the grass and they started talking about my pink backless shirt and how their own clothes weren't so "cutesy," then it got awkward so I left and one of them said "see you later Blossom". Do you remember that show? I loved it. But that's not the point. The point is that my "friend" snuck a little snide comment in front of our all of our other friends simply because I like dressing up. And that was at least 8 years ago and I still remember everything about that day. Feminism is not about laughing at other girls and making them feel insecure. Especially over something as trivial as clothes. Remember you are pro-choice. Respect my choice to wear booty shorts.

And that's it. For now...

Perfection

I want to be the perfect woman. I majored in woman’s studies in undergrad so I know that all the silly mainstream magazines I read are full of airbrushed models and that if I lost the 35 pounds I want to lose I’d probably stop having periods and that every person on Earth has pores and that I will never have naturally flippy hair and long curly eyelashes. But every day I kill myself a little bit striving for a perfection that doesn’t exist. Every calorie is guilt, I have a $200 face scrubber, about 10 exercises videos I don’t watch, an appointment next week to get a head full of weave, a bathroom full of make up, a closet full of clothes, shoes, accessories. I consider myself “low maintenance,” and I really feel like I am. It’s sick, but I feel normal. In the grand scheme of perfection questing, I am small scale. I know it’s not real. I can leave the house without being “done up” but only sometimes.

At any one point in time I am doing at least three full time jobs. I have a kid. I am a full time grad student. I work. I get perfect grades. I have a successful zine. I refuse to be half assed. My son wore cloth diapers and then organic recyclable diapers. I cried when I couldn’t afford them anymore and had to buy generics. He was breastfed for over 3 years, I made his baby food, I stayed home with him for 6 months, carrying him in the baby sling, totally losing myself in this unrealistic idea of perfect motherhood. Grad school requires a “B” or better in everything or you essentially fail. A “B” is still good, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just not a perfect “A” and when I got one I bawled to my therapist, “that stupid bitch gave me a B”. I was devastated. Once I finish writing my zine I sit with it, afraid to put it out, for at least a month. I have to make it perfect. I disappoint myself all the time. It’s not perfect. I want to quit making it.

A lot of women have this crazy fucked up idea in their head that life is a competition and whoever is the prettiest, skinniest, best cook, best dressed, best writer, best mother, best dick sucker, whatever, wins. And winning is so much better than losing, right? And we are smart, we know all of this is fucked up and a total waste of time, but we will sit there getting our pubes waxed into the shape of a heart or only eat carrots for a week or spend five hours in a beauty salon getting someone else’s hair braided into our own anyway. I have a good body, nice boobs, cute butt, pretty round face, happy eyes, and this guy called me “thick” and I wanted to kill him. I went hysterical. Try giving a girl a compliment, she’ll think you’re a spy or totally downplay herself. I hardly ever hear “thanks”. I am learning how to say it, realizing that yes, what this person is saying is in fact true. I am good at my job. Thank you.

The thing about perfection is that it still matters to women. Men can be fat and balding and old and they are still rewarded with money, raises, younger women, respect. If a woman has one wrinkle, gets pregnant, gains 10lbs, has a flat chest, nappy hair, people notice. Everything is at stake; her career, her sanity, her marriage, her finances, her opportunity for advancement, etc. They circle actresses fat legs in magazines, it's on the news; I am not even kidding. So yeah, striving for perfection is not all that unreasonable. Our livelihoods depend on it sometimes. We need the money, we still don't make as much as men.

People have made billions of dollars convincing women that they are not enough. If we knew the truth, that we are beautiful, that our bodies and our faces and our bellies are enough, that we are smart, that we are good drivers, that we are good mothers, that our nappy hair is lovely, that our pubes can grow out, that we are good at math, that we can direct movies, that we can lead companies, that our too big or too small or too saggy tits were actually “just right”, what would happen? How much money would we save? How many more friends would we have? How much happier would we be? I can’t even imagine such perfection…