STILL not asking for it -- NSFW

SlutWalk!

I am a simple minded girl in very many ways.
Rape is rape is rape.
This is NOT difficult.

When I was moving/first moved, everyone and their mother (seriously, their actual mother) told me to "be careful".
Maybe they were telling me to be careful to not cross the street without looking. Or maybe to be careful to not eat too many delicious foods and get fat. Or maybe to be careful not to spend all of my money on shoes. Maybe, but probably not.
They were telling me to be careful to not get kidnapped/raped/sexually assaulted. And as silly as it might seem, it infuriates me each and every time. It warms my soul to know that people care for my general well-being, and I really do appreciate it, but there needs to be a cultural shift, like right now.

This post will be long and filled with pictures and angry words, so please stop reading right now if:
1.You are unable to understand the concept that RAPE IS RAPE and that it is not "Oh but we were really drunk so..."
2. You will be offended by somewhat graphic photos and some colorful language.
3.You disagree with me. Because you're wrong and I will come to wherever you are and prove it. With my fists.

I just read this article. I think I could probably read an article like this every day, because it happens every day. These stupid stupid girls go to these stupid stupid parties with their stupid stupid friends, get stupid stupid wasted, and get raped by stupid stupid boys.

I could have written the exact same sentence, but the final thought read "and have a stupid stupid hangover. The end."

Maybe someone told her to be careful, maybe someone lectured her about drinking and how in high school, "boys will be boys." Maybe.

Did anyone sit those two boys down at any point in their life and discuss what makes a rape a rape?
Did anyone ever tell them that if she is too drunk to say no, the answer is still no?No, I guarantee that not one moment of their privileged lives was spent like that. And this, my friends, is the problem.
These boys didn't even know that they were raping her. They didn't even know!
But even worse than that is what this girl will have to deal with. Maybe she will be lucky and everyone around her will understand. Maybe she'll never hear that she was "asking for it", or that it is in some way, shape, or form, her fault. Maybe.

preach!

SlutWalk!

When I get dressed in the morning, especially when I am going into the city, I intend on looking nice, not to catch the attention of men, but for my own self. I would most likely wear a form-fitting dress that flirts along the line of "probably-too-short-but-I-have-short-legs-so-it's-not-too-bad", I will most likely wear heels, and I will most likely wear enough make-up so that I do not appear to be in high school.

And sometimes, (most times), I stay out late, and I am almost always by myself, and so that means it's often 10:00 pm and I am en-route to catching my bus home and I am alone, in heels, and a short dress. And maybe I will pass by some man, and I am a kind person, so I would probably smile in a friendly way towards him.

Now, this man has a few options:


He can be a normal human being and smile back at me and continue on his way. 

He can be sleezy and look me up and down and cat-call me until I am too far to hear his advances.
Or, he can be a rapist.

And if he chooses to be a rapist, it is his fault, not mine. It is not my fault, for how I look, it is not my fault for walking around at night alone, and it is most certainly not my fault that this man is unable to restrain himself anymore than an animal.

If I were a man, I would be incredibly offended at the excuses of rapists. Offended that these men claim that they were unable to help themselves, or that they didn't realize. These are men who making other men appear to be impulsive, unintelligent, sex-crazed beasts.

But you are not that, men. You are smart, and you are good, and you are kind.
 Please stop letting these rapists give you all such a bad name.

This is a challenge to every man who is a father, or will someday become one. I am not saying to not teach your daughters to be safe. But please, teach your sons so that your daughters have nothing to fear. Every rapist is someone's son. Please, teach your son about respect, that it is so much more than just holding a door. That the "friendzone" isn't real. That just because you find a woman attractive and spend time with her, but she chooses not to sleep with you, does not mean she is wrong. Teach your son to love women, to not objectify them, to not hurt them. And you will do this best by leading by example.

I have been very fortunate in life, I have never been assaulted in any way, I am one of the lucky ones. I am careful, I rarely over drink, I don't go places with strangers, and I am one tough bitch if you start making unwanted advances. But, I shouldn't have to be. I should be able to wear what I want when I want how I want, drink enough to get blackout drunk every single night, and then, trust any person around me to ensure me to safety. I should be able to. But I can't. Because, for whatever reason, this photo exists. And it's okay. Because "boys will be boys", right?

I hope you can see that I am not male-bashing. But I am rape-bashing. Please, talk to your boys, show them this blog, show them the article I linked. Remind them that their mother was once a girl who drank too much at a party. That their sister could be walking home in the dark, but thinks she is safe because she is with a friend that she thinks she can trust. 

The world can change, & you can change it. No matter how strict the laws get, or who promises what in office, rape will occur. But maybe, just maybe, if we teach our boys to grow up to be real men, real, good men, maybe then the war on rape can finally end.

I think I should make clear, just so we all know, what rape really is.
Rape is when you walk down at alley at night and a strange man attacks you.
Rape is when you're friend walks you home because you've drank too much, tells you he loves you and when you don't feel the same, forces himself on you.
Rape is when you want to have sex, but just as you begin, change your mind and he won't listen.
Rape is when you are too drunk to say no.
Rape is when you are a child and he is not.
Rape is when you didn't say no, but you didn't want it and pushed him away.

Rape is when you don't want to have sex for any reason under any circumstance and someone forces you anyway.





Please, if this is, or was you. Don't stay silent. Tell a cop, tell your teacher, your mother, your friend, tell me. But you are never in the wrong, and it was never your fault. Not even a little.

I could seriously go on for days. I think I could have a blog devoted to just this, but I hope I have made my point. I was slightly joking about the whole "you'll get punched if you disagree" bit above. If you do disagree, I am genuinely interested to hear why, so please, come find me, I'd love to change your mind.

Happy for Deep People

DON'T BLINK!

That which I thought would crucify me did the complete opposite. Thank you.

Emotional nudity is terrifying. I described it to a friend as being naked in the middle of your high school football field during a home game. We are living in a time where it is so easy to hide, from not only everyone else, but from ourselves. Everyone wants to forget the bad, only ever be happy, and forgo the sadness of life. But there is so good that can come out of sadness. Think of all of the heart wrenching movies and incredibly sad songs you love. There is a bright side to every bad day.

So, I keep getting these beauty marks all over my torso, I've discovered maybe a half dozen in the past 5 years. I'm not much of a sun worshiper  so I'm not too nervous about that, but I was upset that my skin was becoming spotted! I would forget that I was upset, because I don't see them constantly, only when I'm naked. And, if you know me, you know how I feel about clothes, as in I don't want to wear them when I'm not in public. The more I was naked, the more I looked at these beauty marks, and I kind of started to like them a little. Then more. And now, if you're ever to ask me what my favorite physical trait about myself is, I might have to lift up my shirt and show you.

...and for anyone who thinks that they're funny, I'm not talking about my breasts.

So, get naked, just like Alanis recommended, because you might notice something new about yourself, but I can promise that you will learn something about yourself.

Completely unrelated disclaimer, but I have no idea who reads this or how far into the internet it gets, but I suddenly lost my job today, so if anyone in the NYC area knows of anything... hook a sister up, please, I have a slightly expensive lifestyle I need to maintain, aka, I'd like to keep buying my morning croissant and feel fancy.

I'm only a little bummed about losing this job, mostly because extreme poverty is only like 3 weeks away.

But I already spent a non-refundable $55 on an express bus pass, so I will spend the next two days terrorizing enjoying the city, this could get dangerous and I LAUGH IN THE FACE OF DANGER.

Awkward.

It is almost two a.m., and if it weren't the middle of the night, I'd have so much more sense than to be so awkwardly honest on the internet.

I've only ever fallen in love once. It took like 30 seconds. I had this dream, and in my dream God told me to go love this boy. I woke up and had forgotten all about it until I saw him at breakfast. I was hot and cold and nauseous and dizzy and terrified, and had no idea why. And then I remembered, and I loved him. And I was 16.

And many, many years passed, and many wonderful and terrible things happened. We were both very good to each other and we were both very awful to each other. I think, with the clarity of the hindsight, we loved each other so much that we didn't know what to do, we were so young. And as they say, you hurt the ones you love the most.

We loved too much. Yes, it is possible. It was all-consuming, intoxicating, and detrimental to our respective well-beings.

I have had the opportunity to spend the last two years, one month, 3 weeks & 3 days to figure out who was to blame. On the surface, him. In reality, me. I became a person that even I was unable to love, how was I to ask that of another?

I was born for two ultimate reasons, I was born to be an Artist, and I was born to be in love. And I had spent every waking moment of my life since birth chasing after those things with such a dark intensity that I couldn't see anything else. Every moment in my life was designed to amount to one of those two things. The day that I learned that the boy I loved, loved me as well... I still don't know the word for that moment.

I was so obsessed with love. With feeling it, giving it, receiving it, I forgot everything else. Because even though you can love too much, love is not always enough. I forgot to respect this boy that I loved, I forgot to both accept and give forgiveness. I forgot to be his biggest fan, the one person who he had when there was no one left. I forgot to give him the Grace we all so desperately need.
I was so young, maybe I just didn't know.

I am 23 now, and it has been 6 years 7 months and about three weeks. In 6 years, 7 months and about three weeks a lot can happen. A lot did happen. I know so much now that I couldn't have then, when I had the chance. I don't know if the wisdom came with age or with heartbreak. I know so much, I have grown so much. I wonder if this boy I loved, if he knew me now, could he love me again? Love who I have become? I have once again become the girl he loved so long ago.

It seems like it wasn't ever real, like everything happened that night during the dream, and I woke up two years ago to reality.
I have the same dream all the time, we find each other and are just terribly confused. "Why do you look so different?" "Why don't I recognize your voice?" We finally realize because X amount of time has passed, and then life goes on, as it once might have.

"It's like forgetting the words
to your favorite song,
you can't believe it,
you were always singing along."

This is so strange, and awkward, and maybe even dangerous to post. Just about everyone who has ever met me knows exactly who I am talking about. Have your opinion, say I am pathetic, or that I should get over it, or that I am a joke, you won't tell me anything I haven't told myself. So maybe, by writing this piece of public humiliation, someone else will benefit from it, because I probably won't.

Do not be ashamed of who you are, how you feel, or who you love.