when we talk about women in refrigerators it’s not always something super literal
i don’t imagine in writers room across the globe they’re all sitting there like “well we’re out of ideas let’s fridge another one” (but maybe they do i have no idea)
but what’s happening consciously or unconsciously writers are deciding that women are more valuable dead then alive. this goes way back. this is poe saying there’s nothing more poetic than the death of a beautiful woman. this is a dozen pre raphaelite paintings of ophelia drowning because they found her suffering erotic. this is the first reaction to laura palmer’s body being found being, “she was so beautiful.”
fuck this. fuck this.
i’m sick of writers getting passes. fuck this. our strong women are taken from us. we don’t get survivors. we don’t get triumph. women get chopped into artistic little pieces for the male heroes to choke own because we’re more valuable this way. because this way you don’t have to worry about our hopes and fears and opinions because we’re dead and dead women tell no tales. they can’t speak out against injustice because men took their tongues. and they think it’s beautiful. death, the ultimate passivity, the ultimate waiting room, is the most beautiful thing of all. there’s nothing more poetic than the death of a beautiful woman.
women matter. they matter when they are living. not listening to women while they’re still breathing is a failure and should not be regarded as anything else. it is a failure with very serious effects
#it’s a combination of this I think and the desire to see men punished #women are punishments the same way they are rewards #you love your hero? give him a beautiful girlfriend #you want to see him punished? or you want to see him in pain? or you need to motivate him towards your story? #take that woman away #kill her brutally and make it his fault #make him feel it #it’s because men are the Subject and women are the Object #men are the Self and woman are the Other #they don’t put themselves in a woman’s shoes because they are quite literally unable #they don’t see women as people or as fully realized characters so they are fully comfortable killing them off because it very much does not matter to them #maybe they feel a pang of sadness #but it’s the hero’s sadness they feel #they mourn his loss not her death #they feel empathy for his pain not her death #so much of the time she does not even rate consideration as a factor #and it’s fucking disgusting
ALRIGHT GUYS there is $29 AUD in my paypal. I need that to go up so I can send a decent amount to Lizzie.
Go Pillage my buttons. I have some punk cranking and I am making up orders right now.
you can browse these sections, your own search terms etc, or shop sections!
Finished etsy stocktake and loading new buttons up. Some of them are actually old, but for some reason I never uploaded them… I took photos though?
Get on top of the reduced shipping.
ALL PAYPAL PAYMENTS ARE BEING DONATED PLEASE PAY PAYPAL
(LINK ON SIDEBAR)
AVAILABLE BUTTONS - FEMINIST, DC, MARVEL, DISNEY, MEMES MOVIE REFS, TWIN PEAKS, DARIA, TV REFS, SUPERNATURAL, EMBROIDERED BUTTONS.
so much. use search to navigate tags if browsing becomes too overwhelming, because there is a lot!
A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.
Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)
When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.
Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.
Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.
Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.
Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.
Men want what they want.
So much of our culture caters to giving men what they want. A high school student invites model Kate Upton to attend his prom, and he’s congratulated for his audacity. A male fan at a Beyoncé concert reaches up to the stage to slap her ass because her ass is there, her ass is magnificent, and he wants to feel it. The science fiction fandom community is once again having a heated discussion, across the Internet, about the ongoing problem of sexual harassment at conventions — countless women are telling all manner of stories about how, without their consent, they are groped, ogled, lured into hotel rooms under false pretenses, physically lifted off the ground, and more.
But men want what they want. We should all lighten up.
It’s hard not to feel humorless as a woman and a feminist, to recognize misogyny in so many forms, some great and some small, and know you’re not imagining things. It’s hard to be told to lighten up because if you lighten up any more, you’re going to float the fuck away. The problem is not that one of these things is happening, it’s that they are all happening, concurrently and constantly.
These are just songs. They are just jokes. They are just movies. It’s just a hug. They’re just breasts. Smile, you’re beautiful. Can’t a man pay you a compliment? In truth, this is all a symptom of a much more virulent cultural sickness — one where women exist to satisfy the whims of men, one where a woman’s worth is consistently diminished or entirely ignored. What Men Want, America Delivers - Roxane Gay
Feminists are constantly on the defensive. Whether it’s fighting back against sexist media depictions of women, working to hold ground on reproductive rights or arguing that rape is an actual thing that really happens—feminism’s fights are largely reactionary. In the wake of the Supreme Court fight over buffer zones, it occurs to me that we need something a bit more proactive to protect women and their rights. So I’d like to suggest that we implement a national call—a feminist addendum in the social contract—for people to Back The Fuck Up.
When a person is entering an abortion clinic, for whatever reason, protestors need to Back The Fuck Up. Because even if the media does paint antichoice protestors as “cheery grandmothers,” the people who work at clinics every day know that these people aren’t harmless—they’re harassers. So move over, “grandma.” I need to get in that building.
When we’re walking down the street minding our own business and a man implores us to talk to him or makes a comment about our bodies, a Back The Fuck Up policy would ensure women some much-needed space. Sorry dudes, I don’t make the rules. Perhaps you can tell that guy over there how much better he would look if he just smiled? Back The F’ Up: Protect Women’s Rights by Getting Out of the Way, my latest at The Nation.
we’d probably already have hoverboards if we didn’t spend so much time arguing over whether women are people and if they should be allowed to do science
I mean yeah cause hover boards are more essential to life than basic fucking human rights.
you probably misunderstood this post