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The Sad, Sad Story of A Really Nice Guy.

Gather round, gather round. Today’s story is very important, and you’ll want to be able to hear me.

It’s not THAT story, you guys.

Once upon a time, there was A Really Nice Guy. And all he wanted to do was help people.

This Really Nice Guy spent a lot of his time talking about the evils of discriminatory societal infrastructures (that usually didn’t directly affect him). But after all, he wanted to help people, and he saw that these systemic inequalities hurt people, so he had to speak up.

And speak up he did.

He soon built a reputation for speaking up about inequality and injustice, and it just so happened that people who experienced the discrimination he regularly denounced (but from which he was shielded) began to trust him. They even started looking to him for advice, which he was only too happy to give. After all, he wanted to help! And people wanted him to help them!

And so all was well.

But then dark days fell upon the Really Nice Guy.

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I don't want to be

Love is hard work.

I don't want to be

From vavva_92 on Flickr. Click image for original.

Content note: talk of self-harm, sexual assault, suicide.


I used to be a songwriter. Or at the least, a writer of poems. Then I basically stopped for a long, long time. For some reason, though, lately I’ve been turning back to poetry to express some of my thoughts. So I share this with you all (though it was originally meant only for me, then put on Tumblr, but I think maybe I should share more personal things on here that might not be so polished). Continue reading

Acceptable Femininity: some rambling thoughts about gender roles, high heels, and makeup.

Lately, as I’ve been delving into what feels like a whole new world of heels and cardigans and makeup, I’ve been thinking about how my opinion of femininity has morphed throughout my admittedly short life. I’ve noticed a pattern, and I’d like to share it with you:

My acceptance or rejection of the feminine within myself and others is directly related to my acceptance or rejection of misogyny.

I do really want to stress that this is an introspective piece, and that what has held true in my life absolutely doesn’t hold true for others. After all, I’m speaking as a white cisgender woman* — I wouldn’t dream of imposing my experiences or conclusions for myself on others who have not lived my life.

*What this means is that I was assigned the gender of woman at birth, and I’m comfortable with that assignment. (For those for whom this concept is new, I suggest checking out Hank Green’s wonderful video on sexuality and gender that I’ve included here.)

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Turning on a dime: false equivalence in purity culture.

This particular day, I don’t recall who the speaker was. I don’t remember what he looked like, and I don’t even recall entirely the message he preached.

I only remember a single illustration he used.

I went to a reasonably conservative Christian school from the age of 6 through the first marking period of my junior year, when I opted to home school through their program because I believed my classmates to be worldly and a bad influence on me. (I share that mostly to illustrate that I was not always as I am now, as most people do not remain who or how they were in years past as they continue to learn and grow throughout their lives.)

Anyway.

At this school during my early high school days, we usually had Bible class first period (at least at the time). Friday mornings, however, Bible class was replaced by chapel. We had many guest speakers for chapel, usually local pastors or youth pastors, sometimes traveling evangelical or music teams from Christian colleges trying to recruit new students. Chapel was usually held in the gym, with the speaker pacing the basketball court while the students sat listening in the bleachers.

He called on our school’s star soccer player to stand at the boundary line of the court. He placed a dime on the free throw line and instructed the soccer player to walk at a normal pace towards the dime and stop right when he reached it. This was done, of course, with great ease. Then he sent the soccer player back to the boundary line and instructed him to all-out sprint towards the dime, still attempting to come to a complete stop. Obviously, the soccer player couldn’t do that — he rocketed far beyond the dime.

The take-away was that in sexual situations, you may think you will be able to stop before sex (the dime). And if you take things slowly, maybe you can. But if you rush things, you will never be able to stop on the dime.

I remember being blown away, thinking how wonderful an illustration that was. Tucking it away in my memory (clearly), to help me make sure that I would never, ever run full-tilt towards the sexy no-nos.

Now, a decade or so later, I realize that this is really problematic in lots of ways.

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