Sex in Utopia

I write this not to take a determined stance on how sex should be done, but to point out that our tepid attempts to heal do not acknowledge the urgency and magnitude of trauma women and girls are experiencing on a global scale. In other words, I am asking an impossible question: what would sex look like in utopia?

The function of utopia is to show us what we’re capable of. How we can be better, how we can heal. Shoot for the moon and you land among the stars, they say. We used to do this exercise in theater class where, if the director thought we were underperforming, he’d have us perform wildly exaggerated versions of our characters. Only when we’d crossed the line from “realistic” to “caricatured” were we able to wind back the dial and find the perfect level of performance – not too hot, not too cold. Juuust right. In the same way, we must discuss utopian sex.


Read the full essay on HYSTERIA

also published by Awakened Voices

and WORDPEACE

The Harvey Weinstein Scandal: A Call to Arms

“We’ve all memorized the steps to this culture-wide choreography by now: Rapist is exposed. Everybody virtue-signals their feelings about the rapist and/or victim(s). The story trends for a while. Then it slowly fades out of our consciousness and we collectively move on to the next news fad. In the end, nothing changes. Sexually abusive men remain in power, and women remain their easy targets.

Now is the time to strategize, not virtue signal. Strategizing means figuring out what exactly the problem is, then devising a solution accordingly. This is the only way to potentially change the way things are. So if we know the problem is men being the gatekeepers to women’s success, the solution might be to take men out of the equation altogether.

I’m proposing that we create our own media, as independent of men as possible.”


Read the full article on
Ms Magazine

now howl

dedicated to these brave womyn. keep on couraging.

i used to be loud.
i used to speak my mind, easy and quick
like a faucet running
used to talk so certain of myself, i chattered
like the leaves of a tree whose
roots go too deep to see, a tree
certain of its own belonging

i don’t remember the first time i was interrupted
or the second,
or third,
or fourth…
it was one of those things where,
like a headache,
you only noticed it when it failed to fade, only realized the problem when the problem
stayed

i’ve tried all the suggested cures
for this headache that is being-a-woman-who-gets-interrupted-all-the-time:
turning up my volume / turning it down
talking faster / talking slower
talking deeper / talking higher
making eye contact / avoiding eye contact
making gestures / standing firm
but no amount of self-medication has made the headache go away

and,
like a headache,
nobody believes me
when i say that it hurts
you’re making it up
it’s all in your head
so the pain is ignored
and the headache continues

a lifetime of conditioning later
and i’ve become a dog well-trained
to stay out of the way, assume i’m a nuisance, stutter, mumble,
lick lips, head down, speak only with permission, sit, beg.
beg.
beg.
(good girl!)

 

every time a woman is interrupted,
a tree falls; a forest recedes
a flame, hot-fierce-flickering, is snuffed out
a river runs dry and we all suffer drought

every time a woman is dismissed, talked-over, cut-off, ignored,
the silencing of her is the silencing of all women:
our harassment, dismissed
our “no,” talked-over
our limbs, cut off
our rape, ignored
our broken sentences, fractured bones
our unfinished thoughts, unfinished lives

sometimes i wonder if they’re right.
yes, i know, i am too loud,
too much
too annoying
too existing
too being
i’m sorry
sorry for my throat
sorry for my tongue
sorry for my teeth
sorry for me

— as if there is ever a good reason to try to stop a wolf from howling when the movements of the moon draw a magnificent moan from her mouth, or
as if toppling a tree means the tree should have known better, should have stayed underground

 

you can only kick a dog so long
before she remembers
the wolf that breathes in her chest
wrestling with her conscience
remember
you were wild once
you had no masters
you spoke out of turn and no one could stop you
you were meant for more than this life of obedience
now howl and don’t stop howling
and if they still don’t hear you
remember
you don’t have to howl alone
you’ve got your pack
howl together
remember
trees will tear through cement if they have to
water will break mountains if pushed to that point
volcanoes seem quiet, too, until the time comes to create a new world

 

those who establish their own existence on the erasure of our own —
who interpret our shrinking as surrender,
who sail our calm seas and mistakenly assume they have mastered us —
will eventually find their foundations crumbling,
their boats violently rocked and
their reality interrupted
by a truth only women can know

what is that truth?

well.

try to pull a muzzle over a wolf’s jaws;
build your house upon a sleeping volcano;
dare to stand in front of a tsunami, underestimating her fervor, her force;
and she will show you.

The Transgender Bathroom Debate is Rape Culture in Action

Liberal feminists tend to fancy themselves, like, totally Conscious or whatever. They know rape culture is a thing, and they are against it. Well, they claim to be. But as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. Their behavior in the transgender bathroom debate is no exception.


Read the full article on The Federalist

Not All Men? Well, actually…

Every damn time a woman tries to talk about male-pattern violence, even when she’s polite as pie, here come teh menz in droves to shut her up with sandwich jokes and suck-my-dick’s and you-fucking-cunt’s and I’m-gonna-kill-you-in-your-sleep’s.
Try to talk about male violence, and males will inevitably shut down the conversation with… more male violence. #LOLgic


Read the full article on Medium

You’ve heard of rape culture, but have you heard of pedophile culture?

Pedophilia may seem taboo and despised by the masses, but an honest appraisal of our culture at large reveals otherwise. I propose that pedophilia is actually rewarded and celebrated, and that our entire culture and understanding of sexuality is constructed around what seem to be pedophilic desires. I call this “pedophile culture.”


Read the full article on Feminist Current

Can we please stop talking about rape like it’s an accident?

The implication of the consent culture movement seems to be that if rapists were simply informed that “yes means yes” and “no means no,” they would suddenly realize the horrors of their rapey-ness and not-rape anymore.
While this campaign to state the obvious may stop like, .002% of rapes (and I’m being generous here)… I’d wager a fortune that most rapists already know what “no” means. But apparently we need to be reminded that sexual predators are, um, predators.


Read the full article at The Fem Column