tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970877216386186822024-03-05T00:51:07.631-08:00Lesbi CraftyFeminism, Knitting, and Other TalesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-34151710057426908242013-05-30T13:20:00.002-07:002013-05-30T14:56:08.934-07:00Oh Look, It's My Birthday!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW0GT4lfKaeQvesPjtEvOA_LQvHt_7ACq5e53KEfB4HY-orfTKpJCYPUzdRppieuZRgNGzLOcjMhXVPHyIhLBbEtR9xGdgIkMjzUKfIOfsWY5pUDXI6I1v-s9HXr8NxdzaIYIjD1uxxjvJ/s1600/tumblr_inline_mgwwrj7m6C1qad55j.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW0GT4lfKaeQvesPjtEvOA_LQvHt_7ACq5e53KEfB4HY-orfTKpJCYPUzdRppieuZRgNGzLOcjMhXVPHyIhLBbEtR9xGdgIkMjzUKfIOfsWY5pUDXI6I1v-s9HXr8NxdzaIYIjD1uxxjvJ/s1600/tumblr_inline_mgwwrj7m6C1qad55j.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
Lesbi Crafty turned 1 today! :D<br />
<br />
I want to thank all of you again, those of you who read my blog, for sticking with me and encouraging me to keep writing. I've received messages telling me that I've entertained and inspired, and knowing that I've helped teach others is a really wonderful thing.<br />
<br />
When I first started the blog, I honestly didn't have terribly high hopes. My last blogging attempt petered out into nothingness, so I figured I wouldn't be surprised if this one did, too. But then, people were responding. People were sharing my posts with others and talking about them. In the grand scheme of blogdom I'm just a speck of dust, but the fact that my words were important to people I didn't even know kept me going, and here we are!<br />
<br />
Of course, I'm not going to stop here, either. I have plans for Lesbi Crafty's future (though when those plans will come to fruition, I know not). I'm going to move to a different blogging platform, and--with luck--join BlogHer's Publishing Network and start earning money doing this weird bloggy thing.<br />
<br />
Most importantly, however, I'm going to keep writing. As long as I keep knitting and society keeps sucking, I'm going to be writing.<br />
<br />
Once again, thank you for sticking with me. It means so much.<br />
<br />
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Onward, into year 2!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-11653590310968680392013-05-24T08:57:00.001-07:002013-05-24T08:57:59.779-07:00Can We Just STOP with the Fat-Shaming BS, Please?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOXmzEezZkM65JecjfcSLssgUxxvnHO14wHITMu4aNEqXOmzElgPFSnTO-2LHNx88oExyqmJRgz0x-zFkVSaWw1F3dO5Phc9sc_nCHEXiluKVzA0727WZby1B3ZP4eI1ueVu3e93C9Vv1/s1600/_mg_1747_zpsc0720f48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOXmzEezZkM65JecjfcSLssgUxxvnHO14wHITMu4aNEqXOmzElgPFSnTO-2LHNx88oExyqmJRgz0x-zFkVSaWw1F3dO5Phc9sc_nCHEXiluKVzA0727WZby1B3ZP4eI1ueVu3e93C9Vv1/s640/_mg_1747_zpsc0720f48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lydia-Hudgens-Photography/143385715678456">Lydia Hudgens</a> (<a href="http://nadiaaboulhosn.com/2013/05/spring-breakers-forever.html/spring-breakers-forever/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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So I'm going about my business, reading Jezebel like ya do, when I come across <a href="http://jezebel.com/the-plus-size-supply-and-demand-problem-fatkini-sell-509525472" target="_blank">this article</a> about how quickly a new line of "fatkinis" sold out after becoming available. Now, I'm not surprised at all that this happened; despite statistics that show that a very large portion of the American population is fat*, it seems clothing retailers not 100% geared towards plus-size fashion vastly underestimate the demand (whether this is on purpose or not, I don't know). I'm used to not being able to find things in my size when I go into a store, and I'm not even that fat.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
But, as seems to happen whenever fat women show up in public on something that has a comments section, <i>inevitably</i> the Concerned Humans of America show up.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Those women aren't 'curvy' or 'full-figured.' They are fat. I'd be willing to bet they qualify as obese. This is not a character flaw, but saying they are gorgeous is enabling unhealthy habits. Why is this unacceptable for smokers or drug users but not of the obese?"<br />
<br />"Whatever excuse you want to give people so you feel progressive and non-judgmental is your business. It's a very simple equation for nearly every animal. Calories in vs Calories out...Yes, not everyone is going to have a body like an athlete. But when I see a fat 40 year old in a Rascal scooter the last thing I feel is pity."<br />
<br />"Why do you think healthcare in this country is so expensive? Why do you think American's die younger than in many other countries? It's all because of our habits - eating and otherwise.
If you eat too much, exercise too little, drink too much, smoke, take drugs, fail to wear a seat belt or ignore gun safety you are contributing to this. (I don't exercise and I like drugs - so this is in no way intended to sound like judgment)"<br />
<br />"yes, it's really sad.instead of losing weight they want people to make everything bigger. it just doesnt make sense.there is nothing healthy about being obese.sorry,not sorry"</i> (Side note: this comment was made by one "www.vintageclothesretro.com," so let's just remember to not give them business ever, k?)</blockquote>
I think what angers me most about these comments is not the fat-shaming, it's how unoriginal they are. I have seen these kinds of comments over and over and over again, and they all follow the same few themes: saying fat women are beautiful is enabling unhealthy habits, losing weight is easy, fat people are a drain on the healthcare system.<br />
<br />
And the most amazing and nigh infuriating thing about this is that <b>it's like they think we haven't heard all of this before.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>It's like they think that if we just kept hearing how we're Doing It Wrong and Hurting America, eventually we'll break and Lose Weight Because It's So Easy.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
It's not just annoying, it's rage-inducing. It's about five different levels of wrong and I'm sick of it and aowedpsgerkfaoaklermfe<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lme8w3gVEz1qbasi8.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lme8w3gVEz1qbasi8.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I AM A GIANT SQUID OF ANGER</td></tr>
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<b>Okay. Here's the thing, Concerned Humans of America:</b><br />
<br />
Your telling women they are fat will not make them less fat.<br />
<br />
Your restricting of clothing options for fat women will not make them less fat.<br />
<br />
Saying "Calories In, Calories Out" will not make them less fat.<br />
<br />
Telling them the messed-up-ness of the American health care system is partially their fault will not make them less fat.<br />
<br />
<i>Fat.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Is.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2009/09/09/the-real-cause-of-obesity.html">Complicated.</a></i><br />
<br />
You, Concerned People, need to stop with your BS, because by now, you're embarrassing yourselves.<br />
<br />
You talk about BMI when it's becoming common knowledge that the BMI is <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106268439" target="_blank">essentially useless</a> in determining the health of an individual.<br />
<br />
You talk about how articles about beautiful fat women and plus-size fashion are "promoting obesity," when literally all that is happening is women are being fat and pretty in public.<br />
<br />
You talk about the importance of losing weight even when it's not weight that needs to be lost (see: every fat woman who is more physically fit than you, or is just physically fit in general because IT'S NOT A COMPETITION).<br />
<br />
I see you waving your arms and saying that you're just concerned about people's health. I have two responses:<br />
<ol>
<li>If you're genuinely concerned for a person's health, then you need to be concerned for all of their health, which includes emotional health. Just how emotionally healthy is it to have strangers dumping on you every day for how you look? Just how motivating is it to be called "fat bitch" on the subway or hear the tenth or twentieth person tell you to lose weight?</li>
<li>Screw you, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XhTA4xOxCc">you don't just randomly "care about" some stranger's health</a>.</li>
</ol>
Before you go into a comment section and decry obesity and body positivity, ask yourself who you're doing it for. Are you actually doing it out of love and concern for these people you don't know because you're afraid of their developing heart disease at 45? Or are you doing it because you need to feel good about yourself and the only way you can think of to accomplish that is by tearing other people down?<br />
<br />
Either way... stop. Please, just stop. You aren't doing any favors for anyone.<br />
<br />
I repeat: <b>You aren't doing any favors for anyone.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You are worsening America's public health. You are harming women. You are making yourself look like a jackass.<br />
<br />
Just.<br />
<br />
Stop.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I'm making a deliberate choice to not say "overweight," because... well, how much of the fat on my body is extra? I don't know. A healthy weight is different for each person, and sometimes being at a healthy weight means being a bit pudgy.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-15145052282943533862013-05-20T10:32:00.001-07:002013-05-20T10:32:02.725-07:00Gorramit, It Never Ends: When Being Honest is Risky<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lib.neu.edu/archives/voices/images/lonely_closet_m65_b1_f6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.lib.neu.edu/archives/voices/images/lonely_closet_m65_b1_f6.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="http://www.lib.neu.edu/archives/voices/gl_identity7.htm" target="_blank">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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When you're a queer person, you come out to people. A lot. I'm only now grasping as an adult that it really truly never ends. I thought: most of my family knows I'm queer, all of my friends know, so surely I don't need to worry anymore, right?<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
As a human who sometimes likes to leave the house, I keep finding myself in situations where I could come out, or not. I have to weigh those times very carefully.<br />
<br />
It's different from when I was a teenager (so many years ago, right?). Then, coming out was an active thing; I would pull trusted friends aside and tell them. They would hug me and assure me that they still loved me. We would go back to whatever it was we were doing. There would be a little thrill because YAY it had gone well.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
These days, I'm not so active. I come out in conversation by dropping a relevant detail, and there's always a little twinge in my gut the first time I say "my girlfriend". I've generally only received positivity, but there's always the little preparation for "I'm sorry, <i>girlfriend?</i>" and having to justify my relationship to someone I barely know.<br />
<br />
It's not like people are directly discussing relationships, or drilling me about my life, either (except for when my 14-year-old Catholic cousin suddenly asked me whether I have a boyfriend). It's just moments where I have a relevant comment to make that happens to involve mentioning Hannah. The most recent example is when the lady at the till at a yarn store in Twickenham and I were discussing the riskiness of knitting for others: it made perfect sense for me to say "I got lucky because my girlfriend generally loves what I make for her," but I kept it in, because I couldn't be sure that this woman with whom I was already bonding* would suddenly shut down or subject me to a lecture. Even in the UK, <a href="http://i.imgur.com/ibhccLR.jpg" target="_blank">the best country for queer people in Europe</a>, I sometimes choose to closet myself rather than risk dealing with aggression.<br />
<br />
And that's a cryin' shame. It's a truth gradually becoming universally acknowledged that the more out people there are, the less hostile society is, even by a little bit. You see it in the messages of some celebrities who have come out in the last few years, such as Anderson Cooper, Zachary Quinto, and Sean Maher; all of those men said their main reason for not being publicly out was because of a desire for privacy, but they realized that they did much more good for the world by being out and present. Kids can look at Anderson Cooper, a brilliant and prominent journalist who happens to be gay**, and think "It's not the end for me."<br />
<br />
I think of how discussing the fact that I was questioning my sexuality with a friend of mine allowed him to come out to me, and we grew in our understanding together through the rest of high school.<br />
<br />
I think of how alone I felt in church, thinking I was the only queer person there, until after I came out among church folks and two other people from my youth choir eventually told me that hey, they were homos too.<br />
<br />
I think of how during my three years at my high school, the number of out queer kids increased exponentially, especially when GSA started and we could all find each other.<br />
<br />
I think of how in both high school and college, finding a community of queer people was like finding a family, and just how much I've missed that family while I've been here.<br />
<br />
But I also think about all of the times I kept my mouth shut to prevent an awkward or potentially dangerous situation.<br />
<br />
Coming out is hard. Coming out is scary. And it really never ends.<br />
<br />
There's this tension between coming out being important in fostering community and creating a more accepting society, and coming out being risky and sometimes just not worth it. I don't like that sharing simple things about my life is so fraught, when if I were straight and had a boyfriend there would be no questions asked. I should be able to just casually mention Hannah in conversation with strangers, with no fear. I have a right to not be afraid of sharing an innocent part of my life.<br />
<br />
Is there an answer? I don't think it's that easy. For now, this is my reality. And it's tough sometimes. I'm living in a rapidly changing world where I can expect more people my age to accept me than not, but I still have a definite sense that I'm not socially equal.<br />
<br />
And I don't know how long that's going to last.<br />
<br />
<i>Want to do something good for the world? Sign <a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/assistant-state-attorney-brian-workman-stop-the-prosecution-of-an-18-year-old-girl-in-a-same-sex-relationship?utm_campaign=autopublish&utm_medium=facebook&utm_source=share_petition" target="_blank">this petition</a> to prevent an 18-year-old girl from being convicted of "lewd and lascivious battery on a child" for her consensual same-gender relationship with a 15-year-old. The charges are motivated by homophobia, and this young woman doesn't deserve to have her life destroyed because her girlfriend's parents don't like that their child is queer.</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*You'd be amazed how quickly knitters bond when they meet</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**And happens to have a devilishly adorable giggle</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-76270226704052546912013-05-14T08:32:00.000-07:002013-05-14T08:32:15.213-07:00From the Bottom of My Heart, Thank You!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPYkRRkvoiy0A3hStG2YDdcB2VUKvQC65qar7Bohn9xGRAiAbqdhi77JVBd7e6uR0Xn0rRTtRPqcxKAOBKH7McNwmqFqugR6HT6gafIF3mErDVBpSN88z2nAq3iv1Mz0GFO3b4E1vMueV/s1600/10,000+VIEWS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPYkRRkvoiy0A3hStG2YDdcB2VUKvQC65qar7Bohn9xGRAiAbqdhi77JVBd7e6uR0Xn0rRTtRPqcxKAOBKH7McNwmqFqugR6HT6gafIF3mErDVBpSN88z2nAq3iv1Mz0GFO3b4E1vMueV/s1600/10,000+VIEWS.JPG" /></a></div>
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Yesterday, Lesbi Crafty reached 10,000 pageviews. 10,000! Within less than a year of this little blog's existence!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuD5hmNdquzpj0l11pGg6L8S2mKMLezSoU4RTAE4c7RtJC3XNb4dl7sNyg93JI_cWnfcLPLqwZVLbwUvJFbg9f6Q-Rnf5-LAQowDfBGidZWhGtBoXhq9ysgcNGmVin11P-qeri6-uieK8/s1600/tumblr_min2ijuwAL1r79nlvo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuD5hmNdquzpj0l11pGg6L8S2mKMLezSoU4RTAE4c7RtJC3XNb4dl7sNyg93JI_cWnfcLPLqwZVLbwUvJFbg9f6Q-Rnf5-LAQowDfBGidZWhGtBoXhq9ysgcNGmVin11P-qeri6-uieK8/s200/tumblr_min2ijuwAL1r79nlvo1_500.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't get to use this gif often enough.</td></tr>
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Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you.<br />
<br />
When I started the blog on May 30th last year (there will be a birthday post :3), I didn't think that I would reach as many people as I have, especially within the first year. I'm still not sure how this happened, but I'm incredibly grateful. You all, dear readers, think that what I have to say is valid and interesting (or, if you're a hate-reader, you consider my blog important enough in your life to hate-read, so thanks for wasting you time on me).<br />
<br />
The funny thing is, I don't know who a lot of you are.<br />
<br />
Blogger can tell me some things. I know that over two thirds of my views come from the US, and that I have people who've read the blog in Brazil, Russia, Norway, and Germany. I know that one tenth of those views are for one post, <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/voting-why-you-should-care.html" target="_blank">Voting: Why You Should Care</a>, which even now is still my most frequently read post. I know that people have Googled me in Canada (or at least people were brought to my blog through a Google search while in Canada).<br />
<br />
But I still don't know who many of you readers are. I have friends and family who read me, for sure, but even within the first couple of months of blogging I knew that strangers were reading, as well. When I started cross-posting to BlogHer, two of my pieces got featured and each of those got hundreds of views, all from people I've never met.<br />
<br />
<b>So, who are you? If you're a regular reader, what keeps you coming back? What brought you here in the first place?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I want to see actual comments! :D<br />
<b><br /></b>
And again, to all of you, THANK YOU SO MUCH.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-8317194686056780102013-05-13T13:20:00.001-07:002013-05-13T13:20:09.511-07:00Simple Pleasures or, My Knitting High OR, How to Avoid Being a Sourpuss<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8513/8543102396_53dce9a211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8513/8543102396_53dce9a211.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a post about self-care, and nothing is more important to self-care than kittens. (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/comedynose/8543102396/" target="_blank">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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I was chatting with a friend yesterday, who had bought some comic books for the first time in a couple of months. He said the happiness he gets from purchasing new comics is nearly on par with an orgasm, and he hopes that I have something to get that excited about in my life.<br />
<br />
While it's not quite as intensely enjoyable as orgasms, I think one of the most pleasurable things I do in my life is beginning and finishing knitting projects. And by beginning, I mean walking into a yarn shop and buying materials.<br />
<br />
Sure, I'm a social justice-y person who dislikes conspicuous consumerism* and I have plenty of days where I wish capitalism would go burn, but dang if walking out of a local yarn store (LYS) carrying a bag full of yarn, needles, and other things doesn't feel amazing. It's like a paper bag of potential. Balls and balls of yarn which, when I pile them on my floor, seem to just scream "Knit us!"<br />
<br />
I don't hallucinate, I promise.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Strange blog post opening aside, there is a point to this.<br />
<br />
The more I learn about the reality of how sucky the world really is, the harder it is to enjoy things. I can't be happy seeing Captain Cook's tomb in Westminster Abbey, because he was an utter jerk. I get royally uncomfortable when my church choir sings "Battle Hymn of the Republic" because I don't consider supporting war to be terribly Christian or... good. Going out on Saturday to see a movie? Forget it. I heard that every single thing showing has rape jokes and the entire main cast of every film is white.<br />
<br />
I can see why it's so easy to assume that social justice folks have no sense of humor. When the entire culture around you is built on and thrives on putting people down, and you're actually aware of that, it's much harder to have fun on a day-to-day basis.<br />
<br />
The key is to find things that lift you up, and for me, it's knitting. While knitting isn't a-political, it's something which is incredibly personal, and therefore something I can choose to politicize or not. My sweater can't make sexist jokes; a hat with kitty ears can't be racist. Knitting does not rely on stereotypes or oppression to exist. All it needs is time and attention.<br />
<br />
For whatever reason, knitting gives me a high. I love the feel of the yarn moving through my fingers; I love laying the piece out and stroking the pattern; right now, I keep looking over at the nearly finished pieces laying on my floor, pinned out to dry after blocking them, because today I'll be sewing them up and hopefully turning multiple football fields' worth of string into a summery top.<br />
<br />
So when being a tourist is painful and watching a movie is uncomfortable and beloved YouTubers make me cringe with problematic comments, it's nice to know that there's something that will never make me explode in a feminist rage, except in its defense.<br />
<br />
I think there are lots of people who haven't found their sourpuss prevention tactic. I've written before about <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/patience-and-social-justice-sally.html" target="_blank">Social Justice Sallies</a>, and it occurs to me now that SJ Sallies maybe just haven't found the thing that consistently makes them orgasmically happy. Being angry can be energizing for a bit, but I know that after a certain point, my head spins and I feel ill and I need to take a break from the internet. Anger is draining. Find something that lifts you up and gives back the energy you've lost.<br />
<br />
Whether it's knitting, reading comic books, programming, whatever... make sure you have an outlet. Something that gives you a high, that makes you excited, that you never get tired of doing. It doesn't need to be profitable, it doesn't need to be quirky or unique. What matters is that you like it and that it makes you feel better about the world, because the world sucks.<br />
<br />
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to caressing my newly purchased yarn.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I still don't know how much this term shows up in secular discourse; mostly I see it in religious contexts where it's used as a foil to a spiritual life (like, "if you don't have religion, you fill the void and define yourself through conspicuous consumerism" or some such weirdness)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-8096782123779138232013-05-06T11:30:00.002-07:002013-05-06T11:34:02.303-07:00Having a Body is Hard<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTx1sfyh5gDm1JIiLOG4zV2UObOPJneqASRKQibIq8E7MbhSUM30tctHDzkRTLSlnXahT4oIBpFIrGJVUcnVC58K9tDgYjAf3jVi7Ec6tOSc8E3bC84p5dMBJtQmhzTCyd6oXUkQYnxRU/s1600/DSCN1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTx1sfyh5gDm1JIiLOG4zV2UObOPJneqASRKQibIq8E7MbhSUM30tctHDzkRTLSlnXahT4oIBpFIrGJVUcnVC58K9tDgYjAf3jVi7Ec6tOSc8E3bC84p5dMBJtQmhzTCyd6oXUkQYnxRU/s400/DSCN1096.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This body is NOT gonna last, and I want to be okay with that.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>"I like giants/especially girl giants/cuz all girls feel too big sometimes/regardless of their size"</i> -"I Like Giants" by Kimya Dawson<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago, I took my measurements before ordering a dress. Between late December and now, I have lost more than two inches in the waist; I'm smaller than I've been in a long time.<br />
<br />
I've been caught between celebrating and being unnerved at my own celebration. In December, my doctor told me to lose ten pounds because I had high cholesterol, and at the time I rationalized that he said "lose ten pounds" because the steps taken to do so would restore my health. That it was all about health, not about size or weight on its own. But now I find that even as I worked so hard to love my body no matter the size, I really truly prefer how I look at a lower weight. I find this troubling.<br />
<br />
I've been seeing shifts and new challenges in dealing with food and my body, as I've been getting healthier and realizing that I have it in my power to improve my health further through what I eat. This realization hasn't been good.<br />
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I've found myself questioning every food decision I make:<br />
<br />
<i>Am I eating this banana because it tastes good or because I want to be healthy?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Do I really need to use butter here?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Should I really be eating pasta all the time, even though it's cheap and easy to prepare?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I don't like that when I try to live healthier, food not only stops being a simple matter of eat what is filling and pleasurable, it becomes a moral issue. I don't count calories; therefore I'm less disciplined. I like pasta and meat sauce; therefore I'm a gross fatty. I refuse to give up chocolate, therefore I have a massive sweet tooth which must be reigned in and crushed.<br />
<br />
I don't want to view food as either medicine or menace. I don't want to sacrifice deriving pleasure from eating for the sake of getting in my Five a Day. I want to be able to enjoy my food while not thinking about the fact that it's good for me (or not!). But the more I think about my health and consciously making choices to improve my health, the more my brain wants to take it too far. I don't like that.<br />
<br />
I've never dealt with an eating disorder, so I'm not too concerned about developing one*. But I don't want my attitude toward food to sour because I can't trust it or myself.<br />
<br />
I have yet to find a middle ground. There's a voice of culinary judgment embedded in my psyche that can't just be pulled out so I can stop caring about the health value of food or care without feeling a lot of guilt when I indulge in bacon sandwiches. In this way, for now, I'm kind of stuck.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, as I worry that I'll see food as a means to health at the expense of pleasure, I'm concerned that I'll see health as a means to "good" appearance, not as a valid goal in and of itself.<br />
<br />
I believe that no one should be judged for how big or small they are; I believe that there is no one ideal body toward which all women should aspire. Yet I still have a sense of what I want my body to look like, and when it doesn't look like that I'm kind of meh about things, and when it does (right now) I'm happy. It doesn't matter that I've surrounded myself with supportive friends, it doesn't matter that I have a partner who loves me no matter how big my waist is, I still feel like there's a way I'm "supposed" to look and I get frustrated when I find myself drifting away from that.<br />
<br />
I remember looking at myself in the mirror after the Summer of Sitting on My Butt and Knitting All Day (aka last summer when I started this blog) and complaining to my girlfriend that I wanted my hourglass figure back. It's returned with a vengeance now, but I know that when I go home and I'm sitting around a lot, the stretch marks and rolls will re-assert themselves and I'll be back where I started.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be only happy with my body when it looks a certain way. I want to be happy with it always. And the weird thing is, I usually am. Even as I gained weight over the summer from sitting on my butt all the time, I was still running around in shorts and tank tops like I had nothing to fear. I sit in my room naked with no discomfort about the way my body looks or the things it does. I don't have a constantly nagging sense of "must continue to look this way". Basically, I'm not very upset when my body is different from my personal ideal, but I'm much much happier when I fit that ideal, and that discrepancy is enough to worry me.<br />
<br />
I really, truly want to love myself regardless of how I look. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror in August, after a summer of car rides and DIY, and clutch my gut and say "I look goooooood". Not "I want my London body back". I just want to know that I look good regardless of my size and shape.<br />
<br />
I know that not giving a crap about health isn't the answer, but I also know that obsessing over health isn't the answer, either. It's a matter of finding a middle ground.<br />
<br />
Because that's such a simple thing to do.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Though I did eat an entire can of Pringles in the space of an hour to cope with the stress of facing four months without my partner around</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-32028573848860559192013-04-27T11:38:00.001-07:002013-04-27T11:38:06.703-07:00Meatballs, Vikings, and a Man in a Skirt: My Easter Holiday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2im-LXAG5K4a0shyphenhyphen0K4ET0sqgxuPklkU99_XSUnFUuVv3n63KWcFAtuWidkKT_u5TvTyHgDyLLqp012BIAFn8VyjaaBq1iuLR-YmvCMKBaDR2VE2uRIr8QwV9hGt4vVS-wkxGkWsa36J/s1600/DSCN0832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2im-LXAG5K4a0shyphenhyphen0K4ET0sqgxuPklkU99_XSUnFUuVv3n63KWcFAtuWidkKT_u5TvTyHgDyLLqp012BIAFn8VyjaaBq1iuLR-YmvCMKBaDR2VE2uRIr8QwV9hGt4vVS-wkxGkWsa36J/s320/DSCN0832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Hello, friends! The blog's been quiet for the last few weeks as I've been travelling. The uni I've been at while studying abroad has a three week Easter break, so I took advantage of that time to go to some places which I've dreamed about visiting for years: Sweden, Scotland, and Ireland.<br />
<br />
I had an amazing time, and I've only been slightly inconvenienced by the fact that I'm a female travelling alone. I've visited several natural history museums and stared at lots of taxidermied birds and pangolins, motivated out of my love for a little YouTube show called The Brain Scoop. I've also seen works of art by the greats--Titian, Rodin, Van Gogh--for free. I learned about Vikings in countries which had been invaded by them. I've knit in pubs and read theology in restaurants and gotten lost both accidentally and on purpose. I listened to Swedish poetry and Irish folk music and could barely escape the sound of bagpipes, as there was a player on nearly every street. My accent changed with each person I talked to, frequently with each sentence.<br />
<br />
Beyond the things I did, however, were the people I met. They're the true highlight of this adventure.<br />
<br />
In Sweden, I slept on a bed set up in the corner of my distant cousin's living room. We'd never met before, but she'd offered her and her fiance's apartment as a place to stay, and I took it. She took me to her favorite touristy things in Stockholm on all of the days she had off from work. By the end of the week, not only were we talking and laughing easily around each other (I was honestly afraid that my shyness would make for an awkward visit), but I had gone to Easter dinner with the whole Swedish family, meeting cousins whom I'd only heard about as a child.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZ0BTQM5DERJPSqaOAYChHKFj31bmQGSnXNPQ0jvfg3VNLYMNSo-4hDS1r2q_X3NvcX0bz7ojd6ORjruVq5IYZkvZUQPSP1XPqpBVNP3Qmu-psEZGW-AIzlmdHr38d83-XAY5d5OCpZ1P/s1600/DSCN0662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZ0BTQM5DERJPSqaOAYChHKFj31bmQGSnXNPQ0jvfg3VNLYMNSo-4hDS1r2q_X3NvcX0bz7ojd6ORjruVq5IYZkvZUQPSP1XPqpBVNP3Qmu-psEZGW-AIzlmdHr38d83-XAY5d5OCpZ1P/s400/DSCN0662.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my cousins is a goth ghost-whisperer. HOW AWESOME IS THAT?</td></tr>
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After that, I went to Edinburgh, where I stayed in a hostel where I met young women from all over the world: Australians, Koreans, Canadians, German Serbs. Each had their reasons for travelling, each had their stories. They came and went, but for a brief time our lives joined up in a way that would have been impossible not that long ago. I also met a veteran who had ended up homeless and had an impenetrable accent, but was friendly and chatty and told me that it was actually completely worth paying £16 to tour Edinburgh castle. On Sunday, I went to a queer-affirming Episcopalian church, was anointed, joined the congregation for coffee and rolls after the service, and spent half an hour at least talking to a woman about my travels and studies and goals. I met the rector, American like me.<br />
<br />
Finally, I arrived in Dublin hoping that I would be able to identify the man who was letting me stay with him; a friend of my sister, whom she'd met through an online community centered around a Slenderman web series/alternate reality game. I knew him by his Internet name ("Chewie") much better than his real name, and I was worried again that things would be awkward because I'm eccentric and nerdy. Instead, I was greeted by a man with a scruffy beard and long ponytail who was wearing a patchwork leather jacket and a skirt made from worn shorts. He had a folklore degree and referred to coins as "shrapnel," and he was open and friendly right away. Upon arriving at his flat, I met Chewie's pet crow, a surprisingly adorable little bird with a lame wing and spazzy leg, and his housemate, who kissed my hand instead of shaking it. Chewie runs an alternate reality game in the same universe as the one through which he met my sister, and I got to be involved by being filmed tied up in a tunnel and crying while the Morrigan tortured Chewie's brother (<b>trigger warning </b>for torture and general creepiness).* <sup>Read the footnote before watching the video, please</sup><br />
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/T7vTc6ciSwo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
I don't know why I was afraid of not being comfortable around Chewie; my sister and I have shared friends since she was in high school. Chewie and I get along easily, have a similar sense of humor, and pretty much instantly relaxed around each other. I hope that we remain in contact and that we can collaborate in the future (as much as I swore up and down to not get involved in an ARG because it involved horror and making/editing videos, I find myself wanting to continue my character's story beyond being tortured by a wicked deity).<br />
<br />
My months-long stay in London has already been magical; this trip has turned the beauty and wonder up to eleven. I've made friends I hope to keep for a long time, learned skills which my privileged and relatively sheltered life have kept me from developing until now, and acquired a number of accents and speaking habits which will take a while to shake (and honestly, I don't want to shake them).<br />
<br />
I'll be in England until June, with no classes or outside responsibilities. I don't know what I'm going to do with all of that time, but I hope I'm able to make the best of it. This has been an amazing holiday, and an amazing term.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Hugely necessary quick and dirty explanation of the premise of Chewie's ARG <a href="http://iammissanna.tumblr.com/post/48984738210/deemah122-replied-to-your-video-no-anna-can-you" target="_blank">here</a> (seriously, the video will make a bit more sense if you read that first)</span><br />
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<!----read-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-66992544437790582662013-03-25T09:09:00.001-07:002013-03-25T09:09:26.176-07:00When You're Powerless<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7248/7795974180_4c6219acb5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7248/7795974180_4c6219acb5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/13523064@N03/7795974180/" target="_blank">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'd like to tell you a story.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time, there was a group of girls who had reached the end of a lovely evening out. They decided, it being a freezing night in England, that their best bet would be to take the bus back home. And for about half the ride, it was fine, until at one stop, a man got on the bus. <br />
<br />
He was scrawny and pale, with a fresh-looking cut across his forehead; he was also carrying an open bottle of whiskey and an open can of Coke. He sat near the girls, and started to bother them. It started innocuously enough- he asked one of the girls to hold his Coke for a minute. She said no. He asked again, and she said no. He set the can down on the seat next to him, and for a minute that was that... until he started asking the girls where they were getting off the bus. And didn't stop. <br />
<br />
The girls ignored him, starting to feel afraid. The man noticed that one of them was avoiding looking at him at all, and he started to ask if she was ignoring him. She was, but she didn't want to say anything, so she stayed quiet and continued to stare out the window. The man started to insult her to try and get her attention, threatening to throw his drink on her if she didn't acknowledge him. The girl sitting behind him had her headphone cord in hand, prepared to strangle him if things got dangerous. Instead, the bus reached the girls' stop, and as they got off the man kicked two of them. As the bus pulled away from the stop, the man climbed into the back of the bus and waved cheerily through the window, as if he hadn't just terrified them.<br />
<br />
And then we realized that this wouldn't have happened if our 6'3'' Hungarian friend David had been with us.<br />
<br />
Though one of my friends reminded us that we had managed just fine without a man there to protect us, I still had to walk back to my flat alone in darkness, and I was afraid. I wanted a man there, because the unfortunate truth is that many men who would otherwise harass or attack a woman won't if they see she's "taken" by another man. They wouldn't want to mess with another man's "property".<br />
<br />
The whole situation was awful. There were five of us, minding our own business, wanting to get home, but this drunk lout decided that he would make us uncomfortable for fun. The fact that he thought it was his right to frighten us and attack us just to get his jollies shows a certain entitlement that as a feminist I try to combat. The fact that he made me that much more afraid to be alone afterwards means that, in a way, he won. The fact that I desperately desired protection from someone bigger and stronger and male made me feel like a bad feminist.<br />
<br />
So often, I deal in abstractions. As far as I can remember, I was never harassed in high school. I knew intellectually that as a woman I was oppressed, but I hadn't known the weight of that oppression. Now that I'm getting older, spending more time in public, I'm being reminded that to some people, I have no power.<br />
<br />
It makes me fantasize about being a vampire and terrorizing them, while simultaneously wanting to turn into a baby red panda and running away.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8041/8066656992_b9629bf96f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8041/8066656992_b9629bf96f.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good luck harassing me up here! (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wcdumonts/8066656992/" target="_blank">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm afraid of encountering this man again. London is a big city, but he and I both live somewhere between Putney and Tolworth. We probably shop at the same ASDA. I don't want to see him again.<br />
<br />
I want my power back. I guess that's why I blog; through writing, I can have some semblance of power which men like this guy would try to take from me. Because he can insult my nose, throw his Coke on me*, and pretend my fear is all a big joke, but he can't take away my voice.<br />
<br />
I'm going to listen to Macklemore for a while. He always makes me feel better.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Thankfully, he didn't</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-57621881093730992542013-03-19T09:43:00.001-07:002013-03-19T10:34:16.620-07:00The Joke's on Us<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5269/5884439532_cb412a1a59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5269/5884439532_cb412a1a59.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49719980@N02/5884439532/" target="_blank">(Source)</a></td></tr>
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In one of my classes, each of us was supposed to prepare a performance response to something that came up during the term. Being a class on the theory of comedy, there were multiple discussions on what the line was in offensive comedy, and something the lecturer said over and over again was "Comedy changes the situation". There's nothing wrong with comedy offending someone if the point of offending them is to get them to think about their assumptions, because that's a change in the situation. In discussing with my lecturer one-on-one, we talked about how so often comedy just targets people who already get the short end of the stick in society, rehashing tired old stereotypes and only serving to put those people down. This has bothered me for a long time, and this is what I decided to address in my performance response, and I knew that the way I had to do so was through slam poetry.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Last year, I decided to pursue spoken word/performance poetry as a creative outlet; I was realizing that acting wasn't a career I wanted to pursue, but I still love performing, and poetry has long been a means of expression for me. Today was the first time I get to flex those muscles since my senior year in high school, when I wasn't aware that slam poetry was its own unique art form separate from reading poems emotively on stage (though I did win the district's first poetry slam :D).<br />
<br />
The video of my performance is below, but first, a couple of notes:<br />
<ol>
<li>With regards to the language used in a couple of places: I personally never use derogatory slurs that don't apply to me in everyday life. The reason they're in the poem is to illustrate the torrent of offensive and derogatory material experienced by any minority. That said, I'm a white cisgender gentile, and I realize that even in this case my use of these slurs may cause too much harm to be worth it. Thus, I'm willing to take this video down if it's warranted.</li>
<li>With regards to the language used in other places... I know how my parents feel about swearing, but I think in this case these words were the best words.</li>
<li>Just to re-iterate: <b>TRIGGER WARNING for slurs against racial and sexual minorities, as well as a bit of transphobic "humor".</b></li>
</ol>
<div>
Without further ado, LE VIDEO!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FFt5xcLIHnk" width="560"></iframe>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-20977687514485939442013-03-17T09:00:00.000-07:002013-03-17T09:05:04.264-07:00Thoughts on Health and Meat-Eating<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.staticflickr.com/22/34534325_4e83860a77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://farm1.staticflickr.com/22/34534325_4e83860a77.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hai. Don't eat me plz. (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stickeresq/34534325/" target="_blank">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm an omnivore. A picky omnivore (I'm slowly getting better). <br />
<br />
I have friends who are vegetarian and vegan. Some are more evangelistic than others. Some are just like "Eh, I'm a vegetarian. Big whoop." Others regularly post things about how much better, healthier, more moral, etc. their choice is.<br />
<br />
And you know what? For the most part, they're right. Humans very likely aren't meant to consume meat in the quantities we (meaning Americans) do. Most of our meat is produced in wasteful and brutal conditions (which I get to see every time I drive through California). The vast majority of wheat (70%), corn (80%), and soy (90%) grown in this country go toward producing meat and 50% of our water goes toward growing these things. It's unsustainable, and it's unhealthy both for us and for the animals we eat.<br />
<br />
So why am I not vegetarian? Because meat tastes good and I'm picky. Those truly are my reasons.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
If I went vegetarian right now, I'd get sick from malnutrition SO FAST. As it is I'm taking a daily multivitamin just to make sure I'm staying healthy. Part of the issue is that, for whatever reason, I have a really active gag reflex; I gag at pretty much any unfamiliar flavor or texture I encounter. I don't like it, but I have a hard time controlling it, and it's affected my diet since I was a child. Beyond that, though, I'll try things once or twice and then never go to the trouble of eating it again, sticking with my old favorites (which are predominantly grains and meat).<br />
<br />
It's bad. It's really bad. And I'm working on it. I've found that having control over my food helps. It's one thing to sit down to a plate full of colorful things which I don't know and I didn't realize were going to be involved, and which will therefore make me gag; it's another to take a bag of onions and, through the work of my hands, turn them into a <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/dinner-for-one-french-onion-soup.html" target="_blank">miraculously delicious soup</a>. I made onions one of my favorite foods just through cooking with them over and over again.<br />
<br />
But I'm still picky, and I still eat meat every day, mostly beef and chicken. So going vegetarian isn't an option for me.<br />
<br />
I think that's why I get uncomfortable with veg*ns (the inclusive term for vegetarians/vegans; also it takes less typing) who like to spread their message. In general, what they say is true, but I can't/won't make the more ethical choice. So instead, my mind fills with reasons why my meat consumption is justifiable:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I don't eat </i>that <i>much!</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>My family buys meat that was raised in a sustainable manner!</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Early humans experienced massive brain development because of meat consumption!</i></blockquote>
I've even gone into fallacious territory:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Why aren't you concerned about the workers who produce the vegetables? Are you making </i>all<i> of your food cruelty-free?</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>What about cultures who subsisted almost entirely on meat? What are you doing to help </i>them<i> become veg*n, if it's so important to you?</i></blockquote>
Yeah, it's awful. That's why I've never said these things to an actual veg*n. I just shut up and feel bad, because I know that these arguments aren't about the person who's talking, they're about me and my own guilt and desperation to make the guilt go away. While I do think there are valid criticisms of how some veg*ns go about spreading their message (and the blindspots in their activism), they become invalid when used to defend my choices.<br />
<br />
So, what am I going to do about this? Well, right now, very little. I'm still picky. But I'm posting this to own up to my issues, to make them public. And I'm gradually making myself less picky by introducing new things into my diet, or at least coming up with ways to cook things I already like but in a way that will make me <i>desire</i> them.*<br />
<br />
That's the rub in all of this. I don't want to eat certain foods or eschew others because of a sense of obligation. I want to eat healthy because I want to eat delicious food that just happens to <i>be</i> healthy. I want to eat less meat because I don't need it, because I have a delicious variety of things available to consume that, to quote Hank Green, "don't have a mom".<br />
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Will I ever give up meat completely? Doubtful. (At best I'll probably eventually give up eating meat except for special occasions, and not give a crap about eating food cooked with beef or chicken stock.) But I can eat less of it. It just takes a little bit of time.**<br />
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I'm going to let fellow guilty omnivore Hank Green play me out with two videos: one on the morality and sustainability of meat eating, and one on the potential future of meat production.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KtQj5bRORj4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/MOfZtuKeTyM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*For instance, lunch today was rice and sauteed red onion on romaine lettuce. All ingredients I like and not a bit of meat in sight.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No._1_Ladies%27_Detective_Agency" target="_blank">Like all things in Botswana.</a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-8878888264187770052013-03-08T11:49:00.001-08:002013-03-08T12:42:50.028-08:00Love! Betrayal! Scandal!: Shame and the Church<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3559/3393794275_776ec5a722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3559/3393794275_776ec5a722.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/theamarand/3393794275/" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Rachel Held Evans' latest blog post, <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/ashamed" target="_blank">"Ashamed,"</a> is convicting, powerful stuff. She addresses a lot that is wrong with the American church, with nothing held back:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am ashamed of the bumper stickers, the t-shirts, the logos, the fog machines, the light shows, the celebrities, and that paralyzing fear of Silence we’re so bound and determined to avoid that we keep shouting and shouting and shouting at one another till our words are just clanging cymbals echoing off church walls. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am ashamed of the walls. They are built high, with circles of barbed wire around the top, to keep pests away from our bread and wine, to keep the Silence from getting in. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am ashamed of the abuse, the shaming, the cover-ups, the secrets, the millstones* being forged in Sunday school classrooms and pastors’ offices where people are supposed to be safe, and the way I want to watch those millstones drag a few more bodies down to the bottom of the sea. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am ashamed of the violence—in our theology, in our words, in myself.
</blockquote>
Many who read this post agreed with Evans, and told their stories of the pain they felt from fighting so hard to remain devoted to the faith while the church continued to behave abominably.<br />
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I identify with those people. Where once I was delighted to announce my Christianity to the world, felt nothing but excitement at entering the walls of a church, now there is so much pain. <br />
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I feel like my former church is turning against me, as they decided to dig in their heels and refuse to ordain non-celibate gay people even though the denomination opened up ordination to us. I think back to the things I learned as a youth, how even as I was assisted in delving deep into my spiritual life, I was also taught that video games could cause me to be violent, that non-Christian religions are dull and/or unsatisfying, and that nonmarital sex only occurred in damaged relationships or as one-night stands. I think of how as the church expanded and embraced more advanced technology, it also became less personal. I'm sad that now, returning to that church is both a happy and painful thought; happy because of the kind souls there whom I love, painful because even before my family moved I had become on-edge at every sermon, waiting for the pastor to say something that would set off an alarm, because I feared the alternative of feeling safe only to have a hurtful phrase punch me in the gut.<br />
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Hunting for a church where I won't feel that pain is hard. Over the summer, my family did our best to visit only explicitly gay-affirming churches, so that I could feel at home. Each one was small and intimate, and each had varying degrees of spiritual energy. After I returned to school, however, my parents found themselves happiest in a church not unlike our former one; large, active, and still working out how they feel about the whole gay issue. I remember feeling hurt and betrayed, as I'd made it so clear to my parents that I did not want to go through being in a non-affirming church again. (I've since gotten over that, because I've learned that my parents' spiritual needs are far different from mine.)<br />
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All of this is to say, there are many of us whose relationship with our faith is much different from our relationship with the church. Mine is one of the more minor examples. I can't imagine trying to keep to my faith after being betrayed by every spiritual leader in my life <a href="http://johnshore.com/2013/03/07/a-christianity-to-make-satan-proud/" target="_blank">after being abused</a>. <b>(Trigger warning)</b><br />
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I suppose you could say that sometimes, heck, oftentimes, I'm ashamed of the church. When there is so much bad happening, when I can hardly think of going to church without that pang of dread which I'm sure I share with many others, something has gone horribly wrong.<br />
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Apparently, however, this means I don't love Jesus.<br />
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There's a regular commenter on Evans' blog who seems to go just to mainly offer a counterpoint to what she says. He's quite conservative, which I make as a statement of fact, and not as a slander which the word has become in progressive circles. Sometimes he has some good points. <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/ashamed#comment-822343389" target="_blank">This time, his comment set me on edge</a>. Seriously, go read it. But not before reading Evans's initial post.<br />
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First of all, he apparently hasn't read the post clearly, because Evans says the opposite of "I'm ashamed of the Church as defined by the worldwide collective Christian community and all it has done, good and bad."<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I am not ashamed of the Church. She is a survivor, after all, a work-in-progress, a stubborn bride-to-be. The gates of hell will not prevail against her, they say. So I guess I better quit hedging my bets.
</blockquote>
What Evans, her commenters, and myself are saying is that we're ashamed of how the church is so often a source of pain and humiliating antics, not love and wisdom. We're ashamed that the church has turned into an exclusive club. We're ashamed of how overall bad things have gotten in the institution that is the church**.<br />
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The good things that the church has done make it easier for me to defend it, to legitimize its existence. The bad things make it harder to associate with it. There are many times where I'd rather be doing good on my own or with firmly secular organizations. I stay because I believe we can make it better. I daresay that's why many of us bitter progressives/emergents*** stay with the church; we're not content to run away. We believe that our shame and pain can motivate us to bring change.<br />
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If we truly didn't <i>love</i> the church/Church, we wouldn't be standing around bemoaning its failings and looking for answers.<br />
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We would have left.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*This is a reference to <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2018:6&version=MSG;NIV" target="_blank">a verse in Matthew</a>, where Jesus says that anyone who causes harm to a child is better off having a millstone tied to their neck and dropped into the sea to drown.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**As opposed to the Church, which as I said above is the worldwide collective Christian community.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Emergent Christianity or "the Emergent Church" is a different form of Christianity from evangelical or mainline (which does not technically mean mainstream); it's mainly characterized by its social justice focus and the pursuit of a new way of doing Christianity in the 21st century.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-37504250408931913852013-02-27T14:08:00.005-08:002013-02-27T14:11:27.766-08:00A Library of Reaction Gifs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHCOt7_Sqn1i-tld8ma3S8FNkBPP_Sn5nT0qaJpAlrZcA5jxpQHKN8QICKVYOw8jZ_oDf1K1Cjz2QWxhn8k942pzzdJ2knzE24punoB5Y9c-f_5DFU1xhVRkQjyC28GrZfTwGFBA9WEvh/s1600/tumblr_meji7sd1661qbul6k.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHCOt7_Sqn1i-tld8ma3S8FNkBPP_Sn5nT0qaJpAlrZcA5jxpQHKN8QICKVYOw8jZ_oDf1K1Cjz2QWxhn8k942pzzdJ2knzE24punoB5Y9c-f_5DFU1xhVRkQjyC28GrZfTwGFBA9WEvh/s320/tumblr_meji7sd1661qbul6k.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Just a fun post, because I'm reeling from massive amounts of transphobia in the comments section on an article about a six-year-old DMAB girl who's being prevented from using the girl's bathroom at her school anymore.<br />
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SO, when you want to perfectly convey how you feel about something, do you use your words? Naaah, you use gifs! :D<br />
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<i><b>Warning for relatives sensitive to this sort of thing:</b> </i>Lots of swearing ahead. STRAP IN.<br />
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<b>When you like something that someone said:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKpI3BYoIVO6iAzCRrilwZVhlJLs4mxy4lQC8HIBApV-v7SfA4ym4hP5PlyUailu6bGdjEqZXl5_IokR5kNbwML1gHe3whxWceiZ8gnc84rlUvqf4jVR6fYaSbyLM6rvgQX_FoiioVO5o/s1600/tumblr_llvaryKCd61qeiqiro1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKpI3BYoIVO6iAzCRrilwZVhlJLs4mxy4lQC8HIBApV-v7SfA4ym4hP5PlyUailu6bGdjEqZXl5_IokR5kNbwML1gHe3whxWceiZ8gnc84rlUvqf4jVR6fYaSbyLM6rvgQX_FoiioVO5o/s320/tumblr_llvaryKCd61qeiqiro1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>When you REALLY like something that someone said:</b><br />
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<b>When you agree SO HARD with something:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPW5gXgzMeuF4w9b7xG1qavC45BO9tR-cHCd-iHh258f5dLALRsJXjqxyRTpLZfquDhR7DCSPiXZrtQpykpUvUhXBO5sCyIHSsLbkV-ga_LaGC6DY0yc8f0WLdE3sujWMk63PwQuAIBgX/s1600/footloose.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPW5gXgzMeuF4w9b7xG1qavC45BO9tR-cHCd-iHh258f5dLALRsJXjqxyRTpLZfquDhR7DCSPiXZrtQpykpUvUhXBO5sCyIHSsLbkV-ga_LaGC6DY0yc8f0WLdE3sujWMk63PwQuAIBgX/s1600/footloose.gif" /></a></div>
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<b>When someone is being stupid and it's funny:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Qurb_C4TtzyE-T1wlSGYjkxFweYnFZAEXdVFmtkcRLUknLzuAXazgqkzk8nLDrJLxLnOlC40jvqC4gt9c5-HYMhtwA3OiFchUiLrYhjngpvt-J1-hwO7QcjqFURfzIyTeoKxBfGp-Sa-/s1600/pzakp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Qurb_C4TtzyE-T1wlSGYjkxFweYnFZAEXdVFmtkcRLUknLzuAXazgqkzk8nLDrJLxLnOlC40jvqC4gt9c5-HYMhtwA3OiFchUiLrYhjngpvt-J1-hwO7QcjqFURfzIyTeoKxBfGp-Sa-/s320/pzakp.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>When someone is being stupid and it's not funny:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWJNnxQEMKp_MTaAyc4-Op9hqxNY0iLHZRIZO2AngvVcmk7wUHuArhE8d4_U1JAprpCUBfEvWIT-0VdRLnOttEkkBOwMQ1P0FMkuh4Y8CoqiwQAS0qDAkOPzQVwlwlRLAa8RApr7dUim9/s1600/qx8o5v.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWJNnxQEMKp_MTaAyc4-Op9hqxNY0iLHZRIZO2AngvVcmk7wUHuArhE8d4_U1JAprpCUBfEvWIT-0VdRLnOttEkkBOwMQ1P0FMkuh4Y8CoqiwQAS0qDAkOPzQVwlwlRLAa8RApr7dUim9/s320/qx8o5v.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>When someone is being stupid and it's just obnoxious:</b><br />
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<b>When someone is being stupid and you just can't take it anymore:</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>
<b>When you're proud of being British:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4pNCiEZxG0k5x7zxGm0jD9V-AlClxngqcg8um8pdC78hLJQQohEeHwqwX1QFrTl30q38SE6nPiGfMT2Wcz8pTq6nrBRCYE5RSmg4z0oMtazsDHddJhJFTp1PbGPiI0mjYHsgSw6gbwGU/s1600/original.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4pNCiEZxG0k5x7zxGm0jD9V-AlClxngqcg8um8pdC78hLJQQohEeHwqwX1QFrTl30q38SE6nPiGfMT2Wcz8pTq6nrBRCYE5RSmg4z0oMtazsDHddJhJFTp1PbGPiI0mjYHsgSw6gbwGU/s320/original.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When someone was a jerk to you but you don't give a crap:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KpOjdR2Am1kazdtZK6d3e3jOskOuBEQImO-VcUl-CxTlL1HGKg6tYlfZJ17Rz_ZqH3VuiMaFSXLwv4ZEqkjjpPNyifzbDGFU18rOmXIrTF3nKnf1xbhGaHQAs_5gRbpXZ7WNDSDloXXM/s1600/gofuckyoursefljon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KpOjdR2Am1kazdtZK6d3e3jOskOuBEQImO-VcUl-CxTlL1HGKg6tYlfZJ17Rz_ZqH3VuiMaFSXLwv4ZEqkjjpPNyifzbDGFU18rOmXIrTF3nKnf1xbhGaHQAs_5gRbpXZ7WNDSDloXXM/s320/gofuckyoursefljon.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>When you ship it:</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc1iUb2ypkjIqGbK4Yt76TnrcxDVxMbTn2oqdFoxRTOcaU9XEbj-ZVZbfnteuTfsd9a6uBg1JnjJmkiIYo5PzOLjHqfFxBlZp58XMaorNdRAn6WL5VgKizzoOQ7vcMsjQztGloV3SpLun/s1600/tumblr_inline_mfds7pADR51qftp5c.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc1iUb2ypkjIqGbK4Yt76TnrcxDVxMbTn2oqdFoxRTOcaU9XEbj-ZVZbfnteuTfsd9a6uBg1JnjJmkiIYo5PzOLjHqfFxBlZp58XMaorNdRAn6WL5VgKizzoOQ7vcMsjQztGloV3SpLun/s1600/tumblr_inline_mfds7pADR51qftp5c.gif" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When someone says something that you refuse to accept:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdQTU-2dtdaNv0o9MWUptu2OWhkQDdubPvG4Iz2YGGp3Fr-DTMv7dU7aBLMedyQbQqfQctUSu_T4zUQka4Kqk11aTzCHKly8k2Ie4ALtjurdDhhsdIa7IDj-upIFpyOWfvhfjBACyvXND/s1600/sam_hell_no.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdQTU-2dtdaNv0o9MWUptu2OWhkQDdubPvG4Iz2YGGp3Fr-DTMv7dU7aBLMedyQbQqfQctUSu_T4zUQka4Kqk11aTzCHKly8k2Ie4ALtjurdDhhsdIa7IDj-upIFpyOWfvhfjBACyvXND/s1600/sam_hell_no.gif" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When something just makes you want to headdesk:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilydlN_NqI6fkSD_zpt0NTtftK8GWnBRCQxX_hOT1DXp9ErqY3oVlRqn3tLQRnLi8711_zJRdPQLnzkTFy56gJAwAU85ZMzoE_ePtm9DlLiKqbZEyG69o7akj90otlt6yk5LpfBW6VhMFM/s1600/tumblr_lr4c9pPu2g1qklp22o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilydlN_NqI6fkSD_zpt0NTtftK8GWnBRCQxX_hOT1DXp9ErqY3oVlRqn3tLQRnLi8711_zJRdPQLnzkTFy56gJAwAU85ZMzoE_ePtm9DlLiKqbZEyG69o7akj90otlt6yk5LpfBW6VhMFM/s320/tumblr_lr4c9pPu2g1qklp22o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When something really surreal/weird just went down:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYse41561FWhx58f4M_BzRkVPxK4K0XEZBO-tmz0856Q0rpT3CCTiL3eWTVQ1lJxs4XUu9MiRMCLgxYaT-BcXFu0vutNOF5sTOBLoitz2ZAJrhprwrIJtVi5a4zuisrgOyzCselpBpShW0/s1600/tumblr_inline_mhyxefWZEW1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYse41561FWhx58f4M_BzRkVPxK4K0XEZBO-tmz0856Q0rpT3CCTiL3eWTVQ1lJxs4XUu9MiRMCLgxYaT-BcXFu0vutNOF5sTOBLoitz2ZAJrhprwrIJtVi5a4zuisrgOyzCselpBpShW0/s320/tumblr_inline_mhyxefWZEW1qz4rgp.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When someone has flirted with you over Tumblr anonymous ask:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyOisinNSyHAKEBHCFU24RG5-mKN6TfS7N8snypSpYUzMgE7FPq3EnqQrfm8dFHkFu15itg11a4SwrlmU0tJs-bALVDHSYAhC_SIayG0tfTdOldIPiRsgGMGXcs5NGQNoKzud6I6Rlu0_/s1600/tumblr_m56c9avrmo1rtvb1so1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyOisinNSyHAKEBHCFU24RG5-mKN6TfS7N8snypSpYUzMgE7FPq3EnqQrfm8dFHkFu15itg11a4SwrlmU0tJs-bALVDHSYAhC_SIayG0tfTdOldIPiRsgGMGXcs5NGQNoKzud6I6Rlu0_/s320/tumblr_m56c9avrmo1rtvb1so1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>When you just devoted a whole blog post to gifs:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OAzfiGobd5wjtraSmPUsMGQpyjDsGbrBpgf2iyq14JVnmL3mjYp-eNkT0Q-fC9SVKxyfaeZE7a2nsLos8KfE6LqFVOEbTLdooDJNN5lrC976Np5327u2n_EWc6-PaIsX_HpNSx8DCDeY/s1600/tumblr_inline_mfzeakh3d81ruiksx.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OAzfiGobd5wjtraSmPUsMGQpyjDsGbrBpgf2iyq14JVnmL3mjYp-eNkT0Q-fC9SVKxyfaeZE7a2nsLos8KfE6LqFVOEbTLdooDJNN5lrC976Np5327u2n_EWc6-PaIsX_HpNSx8DCDeY/s400/tumblr_inline_mfzeakh3d81ruiksx.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-68207709440997224152013-02-19T13:08:00.001-08:002013-02-19T13:08:35.593-08:00Dinner for One: Chicken and Rice<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB56VV0410bUNwNARnULJkcyDgr28uNSVoOYCigkocIpD7QLNtIb3UI2xrvLHHHrdHL75xICH9T3GjT9jH_8L0zRKguWzGyswOrCTfYpIICkNFR4MMTLuLl7uv4dIdtePyCo_jjjCUCc-/s1600/DSCN0350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB56VV0410bUNwNARnULJkcyDgr28uNSVoOYCigkocIpD7QLNtIb3UI2xrvLHHHrdHL75xICH9T3GjT9jH_8L0zRKguWzGyswOrCTfYpIICkNFR4MMTLuLl7uv4dIdtePyCo_jjjCUCc-/s320/DSCN0350.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riveting!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
What do you do when you're a single university student with a limited budget and a craving for the taste of almost-home? You make a single serving of chicken and rice, of course!<br />
<br />
I should say before I get very far into this that I'm not basing this on any particular traditional recipe. I'm not trying to be super authentic to Latin cuisine. I just like chicken and rice and it's something different from the thoroughly European fare I usually have for dinner. I should also say that while in general this recipe is something I've come up with on my own, I'm stealing the rice steps from British culinary goddess <a href="http://www.deliaonline.com/how-to-cook/rice-and-pasta/how-to-cook-perfect-rice.html" target="_blank">Delia Smith</a>; I also had my mom look over the recipe and give pointers on how to make it go smoothly. So this recipe is by me, my mom, and Her Excellency Delia Smith.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<i>Ingredients!</i><br />
<ul>
<li>1 chicken breast</li>
<li>1/2 cup plain (aka all-purpose) flour</li>
<li>1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon white basmati rice (other kinds of rice are fine)</li>
<li>5 fl oz chicken stock, heated</li>
<li>1 tsp dried oregano</li>
<li>1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (more if you like a lot of heat)</li>
<li>salt</li>
<li>vegetable oil</li>
<li>butter</li>
</ul>
<div>
<i>How to Do Stuff!</i></div>
<div>
<ol>
<li>Before anything else, do your prep! Combine the flour, oregano, cayenne, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt into a large Tupperware container, and set it aside. Slice the chicken breast into equally-sized chunks and toss in the flour, then set the container aside again.</li>
<li>Pour a little bit of oil into the bottom of a frying pan or a saucepan. Whatever the vessel is, the bottom should be flat and wide enough that your rice will form a shallow layer on the bottom. Let the oil warm up on the stove, without making it super hot! You're not trying to fry your rice, you just want enough to help prevent sticking.</li>
<li>Add the rice to your cooking vessel, and stir it around just until the grains are coated in oil. Delia Smith says the grains should be glistening.</li>
<li>Pour the hot stock over the rice, add 1/2 teaspoon of salt, and stir just enough to evenly distribute everything. Then, to quote Alton Brown, "walk away, just walk away!" Well, cover your vessel with a lid and turn the heat down to low first, but then walk away. Don't stir the rice more than absolutely necessary.*</li>
<li>Oh, one more thing: if your stove is electric like mine, you may want to have a different burner going on low, because I've noticed that it takes a full minute for the heat to drop and I don't think rice is meant to be cooked on medium heat. Just move the lidded pot to the other burner.</li>
<li>When the rice is done cooking**, remove it from the heat, take off the lid, and place a clean tea towel over the vessel for five to ten minutes.</li>
<li>Pour some vegetable oil in a pan and let it get hot. When the oil is hot, put the chicken into the pan and space the chunks out, then let them cook. It should only take a couple of minutes per side for them to cook completely through.</li>
<li>When the chicken is done, remove from the pan. I let mine drain by putting a sieve over a little bowl and then putting the chicken in the sieve. Fluff the rice and gently stir in a little bit of butter, then plate up the whole dish. EAT.</li>
</ol>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQc-zjDo2RceRwPvOf338B5aGXsAQiaxNIQFA_O6_CVbiSZbDQsaMxOKeSzzq3QC4bL-ylGgCHWh-RHDFKFhCqhGVbv-yOTVSs8c__U-mRJl3_d7HqD_wcGRW14JqkfQMjiLmmG5z7KQu/s1600/DSCN0351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQc-zjDo2RceRwPvOf338B5aGXsAQiaxNIQFA_O6_CVbiSZbDQsaMxOKeSzzq3QC4bL-ylGgCHWh-RHDFKFhCqhGVbv-yOTVSs8c__U-mRJl3_d7HqD_wcGRW14JqkfQMjiLmmG5z7KQu/s400/DSCN0351.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I obviously had a lot more rice than chicken (this is definitely <i>arroz con pollo</i>, not <i>pollo con arroz</i>), so when I had eaten up the chicken I took out some tortilla chips and scooped the rice onto them to eat. It's delicious. You should try it.</div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*If you stir the rice too much, you risk bursting the grains and releasing starch, which could seriously mess up your rice. See my little rant on starch sins <a href="http://sepiacircus.tumblr.com/post/43508115857/a-few-words-on-starch" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**The best ways to check are to either bite into a grain or tilt the vessel and see if any liquid collects at the edge; if there's liquid or the grain has some crunch to it, you're not done yet. Pay more attention to the grains, though. If there's still liquid but the grain has the right texture, just pull the rice off the heat. It'll absorb the remaining liquid.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-11312452950542712672013-02-10T13:06:00.001-08:002013-02-10T13:06:41.194-08:00Gather 'Round While I Preach Some (with GIFs!)GENDER IS NOT A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lr4c9pPu2g1qklp22o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lr4c9pPu2g1qklp22o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
What's that, you say? You already knew that? Well, congratulations. You're not an overzealous feminist.<br />
<br />
...yes, I do have problems with some feminists. And this is my number one problem with said feminists.<br />
<br />
It's a mistake some people make in combating gender determinism, which is basically the idea that because, say, I have a vagina and breasts and my chromosomes are XX, I am a woman and that means I'm meant to do certain things and I'm only fit for certain roles in life. To feminists, this is plainly silly, but we have different ways of addressing this huge, society-wide misconception.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Most feminists I know, including myself, approach gender by saying that no matter <i>what</i> one's gender happens to be, that shouldn't determine how they express it nor what they should be allowed to do. A man can be a stay-at-home-dad and/or wear skirts; a woman can shave her head and/or be president.<br />
<br />
Not all of us in the feminist fold, however, go this way. Some, who call themselves radical feminists but are usually differentiated from most radical feminists* by the term "radfems" approach gender with a weird combination of biological essentialism (term to be explained shortly) and massive denial.<br />
<br />
Radfems are notorious in the social justice world for being transphobic. They're the ones who create "womyn-only spaces" that allow transmen but don't allow transwomen. They connect womanhood to body parts but then assert that gender is completely a social construct. Therefore, transmen are considered or even encouraged to get involved in "womyn-only events" while transwomen are excluded because they and their penises (whether actually there or not) will just get their stinky male privilege all over everything.<br />
<br />
Because transwomen <i>totally</i> have privilege, right?<br />
<br />
Right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOM29c4LIVq_Ltq_GhaukUkx-vwv6WNXa8rssMJNaWtxITTJBX11hWW_3VfQ_LBHkjjIsLs_jgPrDGML5lxS5hHwTu7kgXsKwBsVf1nDT7Zz5LNCf3tRDc8x8jKD4wxuewiRh9PkrTSfzA/s1600/tumblr_m8lcu7Iwr51rnvwt1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOM29c4LIVq_Ltq_GhaukUkx-vwv6WNXa8rssMJNaWtxITTJBX11hWW_3VfQ_LBHkjjIsLs_jgPrDGML5lxS5hHwTu7kgXsKwBsVf1nDT7Zz5LNCf3tRDc8x8jKD4wxuewiRh9PkrTSfzA/s1600/tumblr_m8lcu7Iwr51rnvwt1.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
Well, maybe in some areas, but not as women. They get to deal with the double-whammy that is transmisogyny. Hatred for being trans (and going outside of the gender norm) along with hatred for being feminine (in the "identifies as a woman" sense, not any particular expression). It sucks.<br />
<br />
Anyway, bringing this back to radfems and "social construct" hogwash.<br />
<br />
"Biological essentialism" is, in essence, the belief that your body determines who and what you are, for all time. If you were born with XY chromosomes, biological essentialism says you're a man (and by extension you should only do certain things). This is what radfems espouse when they exclude transwomen from their events and spaces, but allow transmen. Strangely, radfems are also the ones who say that gender is a social construct, arguing that there is no such thing as an innate gender identity and that the only reason we identify with a gender at all is because of socialization, but even then they aren't consistent because you'll hear radfems argue that socialization is so strong that one of the reasons transwomen can't be trusted is because they were "socialized male".<br />
<br />
I'm so incredibly frustrated with the assertion that gender is a social construct. It requires ignoring the existence of trans* people, or remaining deliberately ignorant of trans* issues, and it seems many radfems are all too happy to oblige. On the <i>less</i> offensive end of the spectrum are those who say <b>"HONEST QUESTION: would trans people exist in a world without gender roles?"</b> Anyone who knows a little bit about trans* issues knows that the answer to that question is "$@#% YES THERE WOULD BE"**.<br />
<br />
Gender <i>expression</i> is socially influenced, absolutely. We have certain ideas about what men and women "act like" and we label certain things "masculine" and others "feminine". But that's all external. Whether I wear a men's button-up and shorts or a floral-print dress, that doesn't change the fact that I identify as a woman, and I can't choose my gender. (For more on gender identity vs. gender expression, see <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/we-need-to-have-talk-about-sex.html" target="_blank">this post</a>.)<br />
<br />
I get it, it's hard to live in a world where society says that "boys do this" and "girls do that" as if they're absolutes which cannot and should not be questioned. But the solution is <i>not</i> to go to the opposite extreme and say that gender is completely socially constructed with no parts innate within us; that seems to lead to the weird biological essentialism when confronted with people who very much see their assigned gender and their body as <i>wrong</i>.<br />
<br />
The solution is to fight for every person's right to know themselves and to express their identity how they choose.<br />
<br />
It can't possibly be that hard to figure out.<br />
<br />
So, radfems:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYPw7y1tXhQvE-yC7lQE4k_du8eWuspsvTPT1vQi7K8-ioSG1qSdE2GbnxBT0oKGWGLAgSZPBANqWFE0HjCIAdHV2nuC9PK_KJuTjn0KEwap0dSCH7RskYd0qX2IH4JIsiEb77tLtMCoT/s1600/cmt-medium+(1).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYPw7y1tXhQvE-yC7lQE4k_du8eWuspsvTPT1vQi7K8-ioSG1qSdE2GbnxBT0oKGWGLAgSZPBANqWFE0HjCIAdHV2nuC9PK_KJuTjn0KEwap0dSCH7RskYd0qX2IH4JIsiEb77tLtMCoT/s1600/cmt-medium+(1).gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apologies to relatives offended by swearing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*"Radical feminism," according to my Intro to Women's Studies professor, is at its heart about combating societal patriarchy and sexism. This is differentiated from "liberal feminism," where the focus is on changing laws (as opposed to the social forces that create the sexist laws in the first place).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**I'm starting to write like Michael Quevedo. You should <a href="http://jungwildeandfree.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">check out his blog</a> if you haven't, yet. It's like pop rocks.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-24876070033654435772013-02-07T06:15:00.000-08:002013-02-07T08:13:47.354-08:00I Am Damaged<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/324/3/e/dear_you_by_kazumi_hyguchi-d4gruzq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/324/3/e/dear_you_by_kazumi_hyguchi-d4gruzq.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blossom-of-faelivrin.deviantart.com/art/Dear-You-Love-270038438" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was just engaging in some masochistic reading of conservative Christian blogs, when I came across a statement, an idea, which I hadn't seen in years (mostly because I was better at self-care before I discovered Patheos).<br />
<br />
This idea is best summed up as such:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
GAY PEOPLE ARE A RESULT OF HUMANKIND'S FALL FROM GRACE. THEY ARE A SYMPTOM OF OUR DAMAGED, SINFUL WORLD.</blockquote>
I'll let you sit on that for a minute and think.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
If you're not religious or not from the faith tradition that believes this, this probably sounds like poppycock. It might even seem ridiculously offensive, though you may not be sure why. If you're a Christian but don't necessarily subscribe to creationism or even the doctrine of Original Sin, then this statement sounds familiar but you roll your eyes because you don't believe it yourself.<br />
<br />
If you're a conservative Christian, well, you might quietly believe this. Think a bit. What is your opinion of gay people, of gay attraction? How have you grappled with the increasing evidence that being queer (any orientation at all) is not a choice, but something which is involuntary and maybe even developed in utero?<br />
<br />
Some people, I'd forgotten until just now, deal with it by positing that gay people are a result of "the fall". That gay people wouldn't exist had humanity not disobeyed God and invited sin into the fundamental nature of people.<br />
<br />
I wasn't really given an education in what the doctrine of "original sin" means. My understanding of it is limited to "We're flawed people" and memories of my mom sighing and saying "We live in a fallen world" when I would ask why such awful things happen and no one tries to stop them. But basically, for those who don't know, "original sin" is the belief in what I stated just above: that humanity (or if you're a creationist, Adam) was sinless until one day they weren't because they disobeyed God, and ever after all people have "sinful natures" from which we must be liberated by professing belief in Jesus and following his teachings.<br />
<br />
My problem with this whole notion of gay people being a result of sin goes far beyond my questioning of the need to have a cosmic reason for human stupidity on the level of Eden. No, my problem is that this idea means that my attractions, my relationships, my love are signs of damage.<br />
<br />
Because it's a symptom of a "fallen world," my love and the joy I get from my relationship is not good. It's not holy or Godly or even a pleasant break from the massive amounts of worldsuck we have to deal with.<br />
<br />
To the people who believe this way, said love and joy is actually a <i>result</i> of the worldsuck, and may even <i>contribute</i> to how much worldsuck there is for us to deal with.<br />
<br />
I know that for some people this is a matter of "But of course it contributes to worldsuck!" but I'm also fully aware that there are some who are leaning toward the pro-queer side of things, but still have this belief that, were it not for original sin, there would be only heterosexual people. It actually hurts more to think that people who are okay with my relationship and my orientation simultaneously believe that in an ideal world those things wouldn't be there, because that's still a belief that says that in some way, I as a human being am wrong.<br />
<br />
It's not fun being lumped in with greed and pedophiles and tsunamis which take thousands of lives as being just one more symptom of the "fallenness" of the world. It's not, and I don't think it's right, either.<br />
<br />
So if you believe this, I'd ask that you take a moment and just reflect on the implications of that belief.<br />
<br />
Do you really think that in a perfect world, everyone would be straight? If so, are you that pro-queer after all?<br />
<br />
Something to think about.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-73525204000722829942013-02-03T14:05:00.003-08:002013-02-03T14:18:37.704-08:00Dinner for One: French Onion Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzPi2axd6uON1W5wVl6SN-9giiWvy78EKbgNxGHj4Gpcstqbgq8lYnsyLlDv2TcEilytbi8fVcLL_LIeo3R6Fq_ekcArsPkIRZ9oS-I2HdVMa545OIJApQZ6rABxOa35aeUpUhqW9uh6s/s1600/DSCN0284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzPi2axd6uON1W5wVl6SN-9giiWvy78EKbgNxGHj4Gpcstqbgq8lYnsyLlDv2TcEilytbi8fVcLL_LIeo3R6Fq_ekcArsPkIRZ9oS-I2HdVMa545OIJApQZ6rABxOa35aeUpUhqW9uh6s/s320/DSCN0284.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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What do you do when you're a single university student with a limited budget and leftover beef stock? You make a single serving of french onion soup, of course!<br />
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When I got this idea the other day, I was both excited and nervous. All of the recipes for french onion soup which I knew were for serving 6-8 people, and I'm definitely not 6-8 people, nor did I want to deal with storing leftovers. So I went over to ASDA, picked up some onions, stock, garlic powder and wine, and I'm cooking my bowl of soup as we speak. I figure waiting for it to finish is the perfect time to tell other people how to BS their dinner!<br />
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<i>Ingredients!</i><br />
<ul>
<li>1 onion</li>
<li>beef or vegetable stock (if you have a pint, you have more than enough)</li>
<li>red wine (I bought mine in a single-serving bottle; I used merlot because it was what was available)</li>
<li>butter</li>
<li>olive oil</li>
<li>bread</li>
<li>parmesan cheese</li>
<li>garlic powder (known in the UK as "garlic granules")</li>
<li>coarse sea salt</li>
<li>freshly ground black pepper</li>
</ul>
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<i>How to Do Stuff!</i></div>
<div>
<ol>
<li>Put some butter and olive oil in a little (and I mean <i>little</i>) pot. I can't tell you how much*, you just want enough that when the butter melts, all of the fat together covers the bottom of the pot and there's enough to cover the onion which will be addressed...</li>
<li>Not yet. Put a pinch of garlic powder in the fat. It's okay if the butter turns a bit brown, just don't burn it.</li>
<li>Turn your solid onion into bite-sized pieces. I don't care what shape those pieces are. My onion was unusually slippery so it wasn't a graceful process. Just cut up your onion till you're happy.</li>
<li>Add your onion to your little pot and stir it around until all of the pieces are coated in the fat. Grind in some black pepper and stir that in. Let the onion cook for a while.. I'm not going to give you an exact time (because I don't know). All I can say is cook until the smell makes you feel happy inside and the onions have decreased in volume.</li>
<li>Add beef stock and wine till your onion bits are swimming. Exact amounts are up to you. Bring the soup to a simmer and then back the heat down so that the soup doesn't get out of hand but it's still bubbling.</li>
<li>Let the soup cook. Add salt to taste. You'll need to adjust the seasoning and add more liquid every once in a while, because this is going to take some time. You want to let the soup cook and cook until the onions are nice and soft, and when you decide the soup is done. As the soup cooks and the water evaporates, the flavors get more intense and the soup gets thicker. Add liquid if the level gets too low or you want to adjust the taste (adding more wine if you want to sweeten it, for instance).</li>
<li>When the soup is almost cooked to your liking, toast a slice of bread and break it up into bite-size chunks, keeping in mind that they'll soak up the soup and expand like crazy. Set the bread aside.</li>
<li>When the soup is finished, pour it into a bowl, stir in the chunks of bread, and grate some parmesan cheese on top.</li>
</ol>
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SOUP FOR YOU! Dig in!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6M12sVDJ56Js3CxOI514ucLuhuk37k4xHARckLZN2C2b7RhJKKPqzs2z6i_UNFIglBA44XSlnV6aFlVa19H_90ZlKTQPO40w9vSkt8n3dzq0k8SyxVl70iXfcJpukAbeC-uaalY4le-9/s1600/DSCN0289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6M12sVDJ56Js3CxOI514ucLuhuk37k4xHARckLZN2C2b7RhJKKPqzs2z6i_UNFIglBA44XSlnV6aFlVa19H_90ZlKTQPO40w9vSkt8n3dzq0k8SyxVl70iXfcJpukAbeC-uaalY4le-9/s320/DSCN0289.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div>
<i>Variations suggested by my flatmates:</i> Use less liquid and use the cooked onions to top a steak or mashed potatoes</div>
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<div>
Let me know if you want me to do more of these. I like cooking, I like not letting things go to waste, and this has been an exciting experiment.</div>
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<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Just remember that there's no such thing as too much butter. Let Alton Brown <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_M7LDsAiqw" target="_blank">tell you how awesome butter is</a>.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-47148224787278240542013-01-27T08:59:00.000-08:002013-01-27T08:59:51.617-08:00Politics and Friendship: Thoughts from London So Far<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIPB7XPdqdCpOHsaoJKK4IFJyl3e3bWDNvodC3eOcE-BoVI0g7-CbrVCL0jqb-oeG4Hxgj_6NOZ_f6oU3MnRDCQ_IXLKDOBYu-S9OOxrMOqLfLYk-GsrbXxPuQKaisUwcubkLuJHwXGwI/s1600/DSCN0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIPB7XPdqdCpOHsaoJKK4IFJyl3e3bWDNvodC3eOcE-BoVI0g7-CbrVCL0jqb-oeG4Hxgj_6NOZ_f6oU3MnRDCQ_IXLKDOBYu-S9OOxrMOqLfLYk-GsrbXxPuQKaisUwcubkLuJHwXGwI/s400/DSCN0051.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside Buckingham Palace.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hello, readers! I'm here, in England, in London (specifically, the district Roehampton in the borough Wandsworth), and I'm going to be here until June. I'm studying at the University of Roehampon and living on-campus with a bunch of nutty flatmates* and drinking lots of tea.<br />
<br />
It's been a very interesting experience so far, because I'm in this strange situation where I'm more informed about social justice issues than I've ever been before, and I'm used to being surrounded by like-minded, sensitive people in my classes and clubs, and I've suddenly had to practically start from square one in making friends. This has meant, unfortunately, tamping down my indignation, concerns, etc. in the name of getting along.<br />
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It sucks, because I feel like I shouldn't feel this way. Part of me says to go all "To heck with pleasing people, there's INJUSTICE TO ADDRESS." At the same time, I know that it can be alienating, especially because I've spent so long talking about such sophisticated subjects, that if I were to gently correct someone, I'd have to dial it way back, sometimes into territory that's <i>also</i> problematic because of how simple it is. For instance, when explaining to one of my flatmates what being a transwoman means, I reduced it to the simplest, most easily-understood, and really unfortunate way to put it: "She's got the mind of a woman and the body of a man, so she wants to change her body."<br />
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Nyeeeeeh.<br />
<br />
I'm also dealing a bit with the knowledge that, after a years-long avoidance of Walmart because of the treatment of their employees, I'm finding myself shopping at Walmart's UK chain, called ASDA. I need the really low prices they have so I can eat enough without blowing through my money, but at the same time I know that those low prices come with some unfortunate side-effects. I haven't quite worked out how to deal with that.<br />
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It hasn't all been awkwardness, fortunately. I've been able to have some political bonding here and there. A girl in my writing class and I go get drinks in the cafe at the library during the break in our class, because the cafe sells fair trade coffee, tea, and other things. Just the other night, when a group of us international students went to see The Phantom of the Opera, I spent the train ride back to Barnes talking with our student guide about America's gun laws, and then discussed American politics in general (he was shocked to learn that until 2010, people could be denied insurance due to pre-existing conditions). We agreed on almost everything and I told him not to worry about criticizing my country, because chances were I'd agree with him. The lecturer for my Arguments for Comedy class is a feminist, so she'll bring up political understandings of comedic theory in discussion. So yeah, it's been rough, but I'm finding my way through.<br />
<br />
Anyway, about living in London.<br />
<br />
It's great. I already feel pretty at home here (though I get a bit nervous if I don't know how to get somewhere or if something goes wrong, but that happened in the US, too). I get along well with the flatmates and I'm enjoying my classes (particularly the writing class). If I spend enough time around British people, a strange mishmash accent appears. It only goes away when I talk with other international students (or girlfriend) or when I'm really nervous and talking to strangers.<br />
<br />
...I've run out of things to talk about, so I think I'll just dump in some pretty pictures and leave it at that. :)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxWQ5oriiC_NWq_R2Z9E3bYCPpSMRX4tmBCOS7S0djpV4PDryFuuVMUuoDzBDBmj_fQM662PgGsKgStTviBSCfAu4DNvd-1pBY-HPuwuFozx5Bv_oTJaCwvZvA8GunX3vfoBqxEb5ak9K/s1600/DSCN0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxWQ5oriiC_NWq_R2Z9E3bYCPpSMRX4tmBCOS7S0djpV4PDryFuuVMUuoDzBDBmj_fQM662PgGsKgStTviBSCfAu4DNvd-1pBY-HPuwuFozx5Bv_oTJaCwvZvA8GunX3vfoBqxEb5ak9K/s320/DSCN0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grove House, formerly an estate and now just another place for classes</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNrpFrEiEpjQrJINQMOmaMRv1Kk2EyEcb2Zi813iHZvhfGIgD78AyvrBzUJNxQ8wCmdvoJY7X4nWUQwB4x3AjphTPQjRkjmtBV_2u23xGzdp8IsZy1Lob6A5qOFO2eXILz4f9hbHltgWY/s1600/DSCN0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNrpFrEiEpjQrJINQMOmaMRv1Kk2EyEcb2Zi813iHZvhfGIgD78AyvrBzUJNxQ8wCmdvoJY7X4nWUQwB4x3AjphTPQjRkjmtBV_2u23xGzdp8IsZy1Lob6A5qOFO2eXILz4f9hbHltgWY/s320/DSCN0026.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Ben <3</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfRfijR6b66kwfhPskFEpcUIRbTA22DQw9ETseS05AXVbonA42AXxSftnO5vf3BYtvQME_PlFoYywmzet1SHIsZTETjPvK9LfBQqHuUpc8USz9yOPJMfeEb725SfK5KgV7kUik3w-ZLyb/s1600/DSCN0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfRfijR6b66kwfhPskFEpcUIRbTA22DQw9ETseS05AXVbonA42AXxSftnO5vf3BYtvQME_PlFoYywmzet1SHIsZTETjPvK9LfBQqHuUpc8USz9yOPJMfeEb725SfK5KgV7kUik3w-ZLyb/s320/DSCN0052.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the fountain outside of Buckingham Palace</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQVxBzOD56n1gBz_Traqu855n9tjCdAN8Bp7l1s1YFRnWIfFqDr_lXW4KIoYWJm9szC7UgaIOxLXjv_bLTbaaE3C54H6eJh9Mk84tFe-J0aRrEsP4FPC_rsm6lrlreQcRlXcOB8DSrmwd/s1600/DSCN0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQVxBzOD56n1gBz_Traqu855n9tjCdAN8Bp7l1s1YFRnWIfFqDr_lXW4KIoYWJm9szC7UgaIOxLXjv_bLTbaaE3C54H6eJh9Mk84tFe-J0aRrEsP4FPC_rsm6lrlreQcRlXcOB8DSrmwd/s320/DSCN0021.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in front of the London Eye</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgIVPkARIBmkWH4maIvTTwuEPi8GJLwd73LB5QDiB1l0g7t008RQCxLd45Cxv1llzXKUGdpfqeTWK-uShBrGRq7KY7IyVWF7OM2H0Xl1lLs9eiFAMs4OSAiNncJY9HZc-SBIQvEd7pxn-/s1600/DSCN0106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgIVPkARIBmkWH4maIvTTwuEPi8GJLwd73LB5QDiB1l0g7t008RQCxLd45Cxv1llzXKUGdpfqeTWK-uShBrGRq7KY7IyVWF7OM2H0Xl1lLs9eiFAMs4OSAiNncJY9HZc-SBIQvEd7pxn-/s320/DSCN0106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tower of London</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYEpF1Y8jVUWyXD0P8ynkyYlhW23e9h6XxbgjZ5k7R36t9hpffgKD4GUsWGwTcwf_2Qk8kMMOgyiw6ui1pdoYCNRuUo_babUafxwL5sNVvP4rrKgjHCBu1mJLAb_DW4OJlOKIvej6Ls3t/s1600/DSCN0139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYEpF1Y8jVUWyXD0P8ynkyYlhW23e9h6XxbgjZ5k7R36t9hpffgKD4GUsWGwTcwf_2Qk8kMMOgyiw6ui1pdoYCNRuUo_babUafxwL5sNVvP4rrKgjHCBu1mJLAb_DW4OJlOKIvej6Ls3t/s320/DSCN0139.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing in both the Eastern and Western hemispheres</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*"Flat" in this case is referring to the entire hall. We all have individual bedrooms, communal toilets and showers, and a couple of kitchens where we cook for ourselves.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-82576688735684197832012-12-24T10:45:00.000-08:002012-12-24T10:45:01.050-08:00Advent: Peace on Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/15/Bramantino_-_De_aanbidding_der_herders.jpg/503px-Bramantino_-_De_aanbidding_der_herders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/15/Bramantino_-_De_aanbidding_der_herders.jpg/503px-Bramantino_-_De_aanbidding_der_herders.jpg" width="335" /></a></div>
<br />
My family is having Christmas week more than Christmas day. We had roast chicken and baked potatoes last night and opened most of our presents, and we've flown into Seattle today so that tomorrow night my sister and I can sing with our old church's youth choir in the 11 PM service. We'll open the rest of the gifts on Christmas day and then have dinner with extended family downtown, then my parents and I will fly home on the 26th (my sister is on a secret mission that requires she stay in the area for a few more days).<br />
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My relationship with parts of my extended family is complicated, and all of this travelling and confusion has led to some internal chaos, and so here I am writing about peace while rather stressed. How fun.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>PEACE</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A lot of things come to mind with the word "peace". I'm a pacifist-in-training*, so peace is a world where people put aside their differences and choose understanding and imagination over violence. I'm a tall, large-ish woman with some self-esteem issues, so peace is being comfortable with my body as my weight fluctuates. I'm an introvert, so peace is spending time with just my partner or completely alone, when I can take time and recharge after being surrounded by people.</div>
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What I do know, whatever image comes to mind, is that peace is not passive.</div>
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In this culture, I have to fight for my right to be left alone when I need it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have to work hard to train my mind to see my beauty, not my fleshy rolls which make me feel so uncomfortable.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have to get more creative in my problem-solving when I eliminate violence as an option in confronting or opposing injustice.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Peace is not merely an absence of war and turmoil. It must be a conscious choice made over and over again. It is a hard choice. I believe it's a necessary choice.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Peace is the fourth and final candle on the Advent wreath before Christmas Eve/Day. We've been hoping for a better future, loving our neighbors (and, ideally, our enemies), and finding moments of joy in our lives. Now, we seek peace, and it can be found in hope, love, and joy. Just as you can find joy through hope, love through joy, and hope through love.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Advent is about anticipating the coming of someone who both embodied and taught hope, joy, love, and peace, so that others may do the same, and it would spread until the whole world was enveloped in that active, teeming Goodness.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
May the year following this Christmas, and each year following, bring us more hope, more joy, more love, and more peace. Merry Christmas and God bless you all.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Pacifism requires a certain discipline of thought that I'm working on. If you're interested in pacifism as a specific political choice, check out <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/ask-a-pacifist-response" target="_blank">this interview</a> on Rachel Held Evans' blog.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-85162227783288144772012-12-16T13:15:00.001-08:002012-12-16T13:15:57.555-08:00Advent: Joy to the World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/ad/Annunciation.jpg/451px-Annunciation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/ad/Annunciation.jpg/451px-Annunciation.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm home for the holidays! I've been waking up in my own bed, scrambling eggs while looking out at the bay, and playing lots and lots of Skyrim. It's wonderful.<br />
<br />
I've also managed to get the Advent order wrong, which I discovered in church this morning when the speaker said "On this day, the third Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of Love." Shoot. Well, I'll have to make up for that by talking about joy today, which is what I should have done last week.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>JOY</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's hard to talk about joy right now. Last week there were two mass shootings, one of which left twenty young children dead (my mother gasped that "they were just babies"). The weekend has been dominated by conversations about <a href="http://anarchistsoccermom.blogspot.com/2012/12/thinking-unthinkable.html" target="_blank">mental illness</a> and fights about <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/jurisprudence/2012/12/newtown_tragedy_how_the_school_shooting_could_finally_change_how_americans.html" target="_blank">gun control</a>. More generally, many people are still jobless and may not be able to give their kids a holiday experience they think they should have. Life doesn't stop just because a holiday happens.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But I think it's good to talk about joy, <i>especially</i> because there's so much crap in the world.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Joy is waking up to see the sun shining through your window, or hearing rain hitting your roof after a drought, or seeing the first flakes of snow.</div>
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Joy is being wrapped up in the arms of someone who loves you.</div>
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Joy is finally getting hired.</div>
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Joy is the cancer going away.</div>
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Joy is hearing the first cries of your child after hours of effort.</div>
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Life is not made up entirely of joy, but joy is what makes life worth living. When we have those moments, it keeps the darkness at bay.</div>
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Christians and 50s crooners sing "Joy to the World, the Lord is come". What we celebrate during Christmas is the arrival of the Divine incarnate. The birth of this little Jewish boy who will grow up to teach love and forgiveness in a culture which abided by the Hammurabi Code of eye for an eye. This poor kid who would go from being a carpenter to spreading the message that the last would be first, the first would be last, and that the ideal world is not one of hierarchy but equality and justice. That's something worth celebrating.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-36274345033480735142012-12-09T13:47:00.005-08:002012-12-09T13:47:42.088-08:00Advent: All You Need is Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/cd/StJohnsAshfield_StainedGlass_GoodShepherd-frame_crop.jpg/310px-StJohnsAshfield_StainedGlass_GoodShepherd-frame_crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/cd/StJohnsAshfield_StainedGlass_GoodShepherd-frame_crop.jpg/310px-StJohnsAshfield_StainedGlass_GoodShepherd-frame_crop.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
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Today is when Christians everywhere light the candle of Love. Growing up, this was the one pink candle on the wreath, but the church my family attended in Washington was weird and didn't do that and lit another purple candle and it threw us off and-<br />
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Anyway. Back to reflection.<br />
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<b>LOVE</b></div>
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I was lucky enough to learn at a young age that "love" isn't just a warm fuzzy feeling you get when you see someone you think is cute. Love isn't wanting to kiss or have sex with someone. What I learned from a book when I was 13 and have seen in my relationship through this past year is that love is being angry with someone, but the moment someone asks if you want to leave them the thought is too painful to bear.</div>
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Even that's not a good enough description of what love is. It's a really difficult concept to describe, you just know it when you see it. Unless you don't.</div>
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The Greeks back in the day had multiple names for love, each describing a different kind. The one I see many Christians use to refer to "Christ-like love" is <i>agape</i>. Agape is defined by Wikipedia as being "divine, unconditional, self-sacrificing, active, volitional, and thoughtful" love. Agape is the love Christians believe is to be shared among all humans, and the love between God and humanity. It was agape, we believe, that led God to be born as a human boy in the lowliest of circumstances. My pastor every year reminded us just how lowly those circumstances were, but I know many readers of my blog aren't Christians, so let me break it down for you:<br />
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Christians believe that the God of the Universe, who created everything we know exists and much beyond that, chose to be born to an unmarried teenage girl from a backwater town*. Not only that, but this God also was born (so the story goes) in a stable surrounded by stinky animals and first slept where those stinky animals ate their meals. All of this happened with the backdrop of being born a Jew in a Roman-occupied state. God was born as an oppressed poor boy with no hope for anything better than life as a carpenter in said backwater town.<br />
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Why do this? Agape, love, for all of humanity.<br />
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There's a huge theological mess about whether God was born to be crucified, or God was born to teach and the crucifixion was a consequence God was willing to experience for such radical teaching, and I don't want to get into that. Instead, I'd like to finish this reflection with what I think are some of the most beautiful words ever written about love, by the Apostle Paul in his letter to Corinth:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. </blockquote>
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And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Someone in the New Testament is quoted as saying "Nothing good can come from Nazareth" or some such thing.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-13606672842554232592012-12-02T16:27:00.001-08:002012-12-02T16:27:19.286-08:00Advent: Hopin' and Prayin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For those who don't know, today marks the first day of Advent season in the Christian tradition. Advent is the period leading up to Christmas, when we await the birth (or "advent") of Christ. My family and the churches we've attended mark this time by lighting candles mounted on a wreath, with a new candle each Sunday accompanied by a reading and a reflection.<br />
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I'm not home for Advent this year and I don't have a wreath, but I thought it would be nice to use my blog this month as a place for happiness leading up to my favorite holiday evar. Get some holiday cheer up in here.<br />
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So without further ado, let's get this Advent thing going!<br />
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<b>HOPE</b></div>
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The first Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of Hope. Hope for Christ's birth and all that will follow, hope for a better world as a result of his being here and teaching people how to truly love one another, hope for our own futures as we work to bring Heaven to Earth.</div>
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In today's culture, it seems to me like many people look down on optimism. It's seen as childish, naive, foolish. "When you're an optimist, you're always being disappointed," they say, and argue that it's better, more realistic, more mature, to be a pessimist and always assume things will get worse.</div>
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Hope, however, can save lives. Say what you will about the limitations of the It Gets Better Project, as I know there are many, but it has given hope to many queer youth suffering because of the hatred of others. Even when your classmates call you "fag" and your teachers refuse to (or are unable to) do anything about it, this period in your life will end and you won't need to see any of those people ever again. It Gets Better has saved lives with the hope it offers young people who feel there is none.</div>
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Hope is what keeps us going even when we don't know how things could possibly get any better. Hope is what makes each day that much more bearable.<br />
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What are you hopeful for?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-65258316920143648922012-11-19T10:39:00.001-08:002012-11-19T10:39:49.792-08:00We Need to Have a Talk About Sex......and gender.<br />
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Yep, that's right, I'm gonna talk about something that you probably think is a no-brainer, but is actually incredibly nuanced and complicated.<br />
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Gender is such a complex topic that I feel like I'm not necessarily qualified to talk about it. But for many people, I may be the first resource, the first step into the colorful world of Gender Understanding. So let's just get right into it because there's a lot (and I mean a LOT) to cover.<br />
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c7/Bathroom-gender-sign.png/600px-Bathroom-gender-sign.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c7/Bathroom-gender-sign.png/600px-Bathroom-gender-sign.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>If you don't like lots of words, I've linked to some videos at the bottom of the post. Check out the postscript.</i></b><br />
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In Western culture, we're taught from a young age that what's in your pants corresponds to a whole host of things, such as how you view yourself, how you dress, how you act, and who you date. When the baby shows up on the ultrasound or when they're born, the doctor smiles and says one of two things: "It's a boy," or "It's a girl". How does the doctor know this? By looking at the infant's junk.<br />
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For many of us, that's the end of the story. We grow up being called a boy or a girl and we're like "Yep, that's accurate". Maybe we end up dressing differently from what boys and girls are "supposed" to dress like, maybe this girl acts more "manly" and that guy more "femmey," but for the most part we identify with the gender assigned to us.<br />
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Hopefully by now you're aware that that isn't the case for everyone. You've probably heard about Jenna Talackova, the beauty queen who was barred from Miss Universe Canada because she had been born male. If you're old enough you remember the child of Sonny Bono and Cher coming out as a man, taking the name Chaz, and causing controversy by existing in public in the form of a TV show. If you're a film person, you probably noticed that one of the makers of <i>The Matrix</i> now has pink dreadlocks and breasts, things they didn't have when <i>The Matrix</i> came out. These people all have something in common: they are <i>transgender</i>.<br />
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I now have to backtrack because I know a lot of people don't even know what being transgender actually means. So. Let's go to the beginning.<br />
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<b>SEX</b><br />
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The way the doctor assigns your gender is based on your <i>sex</i>, which manifests most obviously in your genitalia. If you have a penis and a scrotum, you're male; if you have a vulva, you're female*. Your sex at birth is determined by your <i>chromosomes</i>, which are usually XX (female) or XY (male). One in every 2000 births, however, produces a child who is neither unambiguously male nor unambiguously female. The baby may seem female except for a clitoris so large it looks like a small penis, or the baby may have both a vulva and a penis, or the baby may appear one sex but have the chromosomes and some of the parts of the "opposite" sex**.<br />
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What's the usual response? Well, as long as surgery's been safe for infants, the solution in some cases was to remove the male genitals (if the baby had both) and instruct the parents to raise the baby as a girl. In other cases the attitude seems to have been "ignore it and it'll go away". Anything to make the baby either a girl or a boy so they're not ostracized, or a freak, or whatever. More and more, though, there's a growing movement to respect the body the baby was born with until <i>they</i> decide what's to be done with it. There's even a name for these kids: <i>intersex</i>. You were thinking it's "hermaphrodite," right? Yeah, that's not a good word to use, anymore. Intersex people have named themselves and those of us who are unambiguously male or female should respect that.<br />
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So, what we have now are more than two sexes. Indeed, the number of possible sexes is pretty big, but in general they are identified as male, female, and intersex.<br />
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To review:<br />
<ul>
<li><b>Male:</b> Possessing of a penis and scrotum</li>
<li><b>Female:</b> Possessing of a vulva, labia, clitoris, vagina</li>
<li><b>Intersex:</b> Any combination of those, lacking both, etc.; possessing of ambiguous genitalia</li>
</ul>
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What intersex people can teach the rest of us is that your <i>sex</i> does not determine your <i>gender</i>. "But they're the same thing!" I hear you say? Let's move on.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/66/Bordercolliepup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/66/Bordercolliepup.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a lot to absorb, I know. Please stare at this puppy while you process.</td></tr>
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<b>GENDER IDENTITY</b></div>
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First of all, no, they're not the same thing. As I just said, intersex people are proof that your sex does not determine your gender. If it did, we could tell who was intersex right away; they'd all be something other than a man or a woman.</div>
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<i>Gender identity</i> is a difficult thing to define, but the best stab I can take at it is that it's one's sense of being a man, woman, or something else.</div>
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Yep, something else. I told you this is complicated.</div>
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Many of us identify with the gender we're assigned based on our sex. I'm female, the doctor told my parents I was a girl, and I identify (strongly) as a woman. There's a word for us in this situation, and that word doesn't happen to be "normal". I'm what's called <i>cisgender</i>, and most people would find that that's the accurate term for them, as well.</div>
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For a significant number of people, however, that's not the case. The doctor looked at their genitals and said "It's a boy" but sooner or later that child realized that when people talk about boys, they're not talking about that child, at least as far as they're aware. Maybe they identify more with their little sister, or maybe some days they feel more like a boy and other days more like a girl, or maybe they don't feel like anything.<br />
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In all of these scenarios, the child could be described as <i>trans</i>. This is usually short of <i>transgender</i> and is used for a wide variety of gender identities; you'll hear people talk about the transgender umbrella:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pflagphoenix.org/images/umbrella_transgender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pflagphoenix.org/images/umbrella_transgender.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pflagphoenix.org/education/terminology.html" target="_blank">PFLAG Phoenix</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Most often, however, you'll hear people refer to transgender people as separate from other genders which are technically also trans, so lately you'll see transgender and transsexual used interchangeably, and the general umbrella term is <i>trans</i> or <i>trans*</i> (the asterisk indicating the variety of identities encompassed by that term.<br />
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But what does it <i>mean</i>? What are all of those scary words under the brightly-colored umbrella?<br />
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Let's take this one at a time. From the people I've met and from the things I've read, these are the most common gender identities which are wrapped up in the package labelled "Trans" (huge disclaimer: I'm not trans at all, so I'm only speaking as an outsider looking in. Use me as a starting place and then go out and talk to actual trans people):<br />
<ul>
<li><b>Transgender/transsexual:</b> Not to be confused with "transvestite," a transsexual person is someone who feels their body doesn't adequately reflect who they are, on a very fundamental level. They may undergo hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and/or get surgery to alter their body from male to female or vice versa. Most often, transsexual people identify as a man or a woman, but this isn't always the case. The important thing is that their body as it was at birth is the source of a lot (<i>a lot</i>) of pain, and the only way to ease that pain is modifying it; this is what differentiates the surgeries from cosmetic plastic surgery. A <i>transman</i> is a female-assigned person who identifies as a man, and a <i>transwoman</i> is a male-assigned person who identifies as a woman.</li>
<li><b>Bigender: </b>A bigender person is someone who identifies as both a man and a woman. Maybe one day they feel like a man and the next a woman, or maybe they're in a constant state of being both, but they aren't pinned down to just "one" or "the other".</li>
<li><b>Gender-fluid:</b> A person who is gender-fluid is also more free-flowing than a cisgender person, but they're less likely to identify as all-man or all-woman on any given day. If Man and Woman were sides in a game of Pong, Gender-Fluid Person would be the ball, touching on either side but spending most of their time in the grey area in between, moving around. The key to gender-fluidity is just that, its fluidity. I've seen it referred to as a "dynamic" gender identity, because on any given day you don't know how the person's going to identify.</li>
<li><b>Genderqueer:</b> This is an umbrella term <i>within</i> the trans umbrella, used to refer to people who don't identify as strictly men or strictly women (this is known as the <i>gender binary</i>); some people may identify their gender identity as just "genderqueer," but it can also encompass more specific identities, such as bigender or gender-fluid or...</li>
<li><b>Agender:</b> This person doesn't identify as a man, a woman, a mix of the two, anything. They just aren't any gender. Kinda mind-blowing, right? Well, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/18/norrie-may-welby-the-worl_n_502851.html" target="_blank">these people exist</a>.</li>
<li><b>Two-Spirit:</b> This is the English phrase for a gender identity that goes by a variety of names, depending on which tribe you're talking to. "Two-Spirit" is a gender identity specific to certain Native American cultures, where some people were believed to possess both the spirit of a man and a woman, and accordingly performed both male and female tasks and had freedom to wear either male or female clothes. They were not stigmatized, and in fact were considered very special in their tribes.</li>
</ul>
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I'll let my various trans-identified friends let me know if I got something wrong or left something out.</div>
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<div>
Before moving on, three quick things I want to stress: first, ask a person what pronouns they want you to use to refer to them; don't make assumptions and don't decide for them what pronouns are "appropriate". Second, no one really knows where gender comes from, but I can offer my thoughts on the subject based on my understanding. In order to keep things on track, I'll cover the science of gender on my Tumblr <a href="http://sepiacircus.tumblr.com/post/36075681926/the-science-of-gender" target="_blank">here</a>. Third, transsexual people may still not identify as a man or a woman. They may identify as, say, a female agender person, and take hormones and get surgery to reflect the female part of them while expressing themselves as genderless. Which leads us conveniently into...</div>
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<b>GENDER EXPRESSION</b></div>
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This is a bit less complicated than gender identity or sex, because I don't have to try to tell you how people think or feel. </div>
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Wait, I got a headache just from writing everything that came before. Have another puppy.</div>
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bf/Golden_Retriever_-_7_weeks.jpg/800px-Golden_Retriever_-_7_weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bf/Golden_Retriever_-_7_weeks.jpg/800px-Golden_Retriever_-_7_weeks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Moving right along.</div>
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<div>
<i>Gender expression</i> is how a person dresses themself, acts, talks, etc. Some people refer to this as the <i>performative</i> aspect of gender, which kind of makes sense, but I'm not a fan of it because it implies that it's fake, a performance, when I can tell you from experience that gender expression can be incredibly important, as well.</div>
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<div>
There's an infinite number of ways to express your gender identity, but I think there can be four main "categories" of gender expression:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><b>Masculine</b></li>
<li><b>Feminine</b></li>
<li><b>Androgynous/Genderfuck***</b></li>
</ul>
<div>
Women can be masculine, men can be feminine, anyone can be androgynous (mixing of masculine and feminine until you can't tell what's what) or genderfuck (intentional play with conventions of gender). Heck, anyone can express their gender in any way. I know of a young man who was designated female at birth (DFAB), identifies as a man, but has a more feminine gender expression. I personally prefer to express my gender in a more feminine way, which is why everyone's always surprised when I come out to them as a lesbian because they think lesbians are always "manlier" than straight women. The one time I tried to change my gender expression to masculine (by putting on male drag), I was miserable after spending a whole day like that. Though I did look pretty good:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XkfYKx72Tpr66GzvTquo4dteRO1DIm2eI4OdacPbeymaA75mc4DI0GQOarUYKEmCqJFJXOC8WoBnlpsaba4BOq0oX2bGvGIlpycoHFh8f9PPI2oWWykxaGj_yHbQGfFjlNvTuvaEedS7/s1600/383464_2323439959711_1060969009_32576145_2040418915_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XkfYKx72Tpr66GzvTquo4dteRO1DIm2eI4OdacPbeymaA75mc4DI0GQOarUYKEmCqJFJXOC8WoBnlpsaba4BOq0oX2bGvGIlpycoHFh8f9PPI2oWWykxaGj_yHbQGfFjlNvTuvaEedS7/s400/383464_2323439959711_1060969009_32576145_2040418915_n.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, sexy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<b>BRINGING IT ALL HOME</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
What I struggle with whenever I explain sex and gender to people is that we all <i>think</i> we know what's up with both. If you have a penis, you're a man. If you have a vagina, you're a woman. When asked for your gender on a form, you check M or F.</div>
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This is a mistake. Humanity refuses to be put into binaries or boxes. There is no either/or. Heck, I can't say "the opposite sex" anymore because it begs the question, opposite of what? Having a non-binary understanding of gender and sex can, I think, actually be beneficial, because it removes the inherent sense of male being "opposed" to female, like it's a battle. Instead, there's male, female, intersex, all equal to each other. Instead of men being from Mars and women being from Venus, we have man, woman, bigender, agender, genderqueer.<br />
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Diversity can be overwhelming, especially in a case like this where the English language has formed so perfectly around the idea that sex and gender are binary, because suddenly you realize things like addressing a mixed-gender group of people as "guys" is inaccurate (and potentially triggering to some transwomen, as my friends' stories have indicated). All I can say is take your time and learn. The world actually becomes a much more open, fun, and interesting place when you allow for diversity. Suddenly you find yourself admiring skirts with a person who identifies as a man but prefers feminine clothing, or arranging for friends of different genders to receive secondhand breast-binders.<br />
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Some people think that trans folks are just mentally ill and need medication, therapy, or prayer to get them to be content with their bodies. All I can say is I have several people in my life whom I love who would most likely say "Yeah, no". Maybe those people need to be reminded that most credible psychiatrists and therapists now say that the best way to deal with the emotional issues which accompany being transsexual is to... wait for it... <b>change their bodies to fit their mind's perception. </b><br />
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Or they could take the trans person's word for it and mind their own business. That works too.</div>
<br />
This post was a challenge to write, and I generally know what I'm talking about here. If you don't understand anything, feel free to re-read and/or ask me questions. If I can't answer the questions, my friends probably can. I encourage you to do your own research into these issues and spread this post around, because the T in LGBT hasn't gotten as much love as the other letters, and that needs to change.<br />
<br />
Thanks for sticking with this post; I know it was a long one. Until next time!<br />
<br />
P.S. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXAoG8vAyzI" target="_blank">Hank Green</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sHBAVjahp8" target="_blank">Laci Green</a> (not related) have both done excellent videos on sex and gender.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Do me a favor and please don't get twitchy about my using the <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.com/2012/06/interest-in-vaginas.html" target="_blank">medically accurate term for body parts</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Bear with me, I'll address why I put "opposite" in quotes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Sorry, Mom.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-17819028176514124212012-11-03T10:32:00.000-07:002012-11-03T10:34:01.937-07:00Feminism and Petticoats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.xelyna.com/loliweb/xmas2010meet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.xelyna.com/loliweb/xmas2010meet.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
So I said in <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.com/2012/10/lolita-madness.html" target="_blank">my last post</a> that I'd like to look into some interesting implications I found in the ten-minute documentary <i>Lace & Petticoats</i>, just because I can and because as a feminist I can't help but watch everything with part of my brain looking for things to break down and examine (this makes watching TV for fun and relaxation rather difficult).<br />
<br />
So, without further ado, let's analyze the crap out of someone's student project!!<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<ul>
<li><b>Any woman can be called a slut, regardless of her dress or bearing.</b></li>
</ul>
<div>
Andrea, the moderator for <a href="http://oz-lolita.livejournal.com/" target="_blank">oz_lolita</a>, relates a story in which she and Gabrielle, a fellow Lolita and close friend, were walking down the street in the evening when a man in a "piece of shit car" pulled up near them and threw a large pickle at them while screaming "SLUUUUUTS". This anecdote is told by a girl who is covered from neck to toe, with only her face and hands showing, and her friend is equally modest. Another girl, Lea, goes on to explain why it makes no sense for Lolitas to be called sluts specifically because of their attire*, but I think what the story does is show that "slut" is not a word saved for expressing judgment of a woman's sexual choices. It's a word used when a person wants bring a woman down a peg, for whatever reason. We could speculate forever about why the sight of two girls in poofy skirts and blouses was so offensive to merit an insult and drive-by pickle-throwing, but I would guess that it may have been that it was something out of the ordinary. Two women attiring themselves in a way that goes against the norm could have provoked the man to want to bring them down so he can retain a sense of confidence of how the world works. It's similar to just about any sort of negative reaction to someone who's different.</div>
<ul>
<li><b>People are afraid of difference</b></li>
</ul>
<div>
The story in the previous paragraph, along with a story from Lea, serve to show just how badly a lot of people take something out of the ordinary. Xelyna, the blonde woman with the blue bow in her hair, described the difference between Japanese people seeing her in Lolita on the street vs. Australian people. The root of the differences, I think, is in cultural expectations. Lolita began in Japan, it's most popular in Japan, the major brands are based in Japan. Anyone who sees a particularly well-dressed Lolita in Tokyo is going to react with glee as opposed to shock because Lolita is a completely normal thing to see on the street. In Western countries, for the most part, we have certain expectations for how an adult woman will dress herself, and seeing those expectations broken can be shocking. What I don't understand, however, is the behavior of many people towards Lolitas. I would have expected something like when people see me out and about in steampunk: smiles, amusement, requests for pictures, etc. Instead, people seem to respond with revulsion or a less-than-socially-acceptable level of curiosity. The blog "Fuck Yeah Lolita" has whole posts on how to have the confidence to wear Lolita in public, how to deal with rude comments, etc. You shouldn't need to psych yourself up to step out the door in an outfit you love every day. You shouldn't be afraid of harassment for wearing what makes you happy.</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><b>Why the heck are people reacting so strangely to <i>clothes</i>?</b></li>
</ul>
<div>
I mean, yes, Lea looks rather over-the-top in the doc, as do several other women in the group, but it's Gabrielle, one of the Classic Lolitas, who describes parents who aren't comfortable with her choice of fashion. Her mother apparently considers it a costume (even though it's safe to say that the only thing remotely "costumey" about her clothes is the wig she wears, and even then it's just another accessory), and her father just ignores the way she dresses altogether. It sounds awkwardly similar to a kid telling their parents that they're gay or something. Honestly, if the worst thing your daughter does is take a liking to frilly blouses and long socks and knee-length bell-shaped skirts, you've got an excellent daughter. It's not something to be ashamed of or worried about. Rosalind Wiseman, author of the parenting book <i>Queen Bees and Wannabes</i>, discusses briefly what mothers should do when their adolescent daughters want to suddenly go goth or punk or some other alternative fashion, and the mother doesn't like that. Her advice? Nothing. Don't do anything. The minute you openly reject the way your daughter dresses herself, she takes that as a rejection of her person. Being embarrassed about your daughter wearing Lolita is a silly, rather pointless exercise. All you're doing is telling her that you're embarrassed of her.</div>
</div>
<div>
The reactions of strangers on the street, too, are odd for something as versatile and fluid as fashion. When someone verbally harasses two men holding hands, it's because they're afraid of losing the safety of "uncomplicated"** gender roles and sexual scripts. When someone verbally harasses a woman dressed in Lolita, it's because they're afraid of... what? What fundamental aspect of a person's identity is threatened by the sight of someone who attires herself differently from them? Does the pickle-thrower do the same when he sees a Goth woman? A punk? The Australian equivalent of a gangsta (if they have them)?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The moral of the story, I think, is simply this: live and let live. A Lolita is no threat to you, so don't be a threat to her. If she seems open to conversation***, ask her politely about what she's wearing if you don't get it. Learn, don't fear.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And seriously, don't throw pickles at strangers. That's not nice.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*It really doesn't make sense to slut-shame any woman because of her attire. Clothing has no bearing on sexual activity, and neither have any bearing on the content of a person's character.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Sex is never, ever simple.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Well, honestly, if you're a dude you should probably only do this if she's with friends.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-26684004178168038562012-10-26T10:32:00.001-07:002012-10-26T10:32:43.310-07:00Lolita MadnessI may have gone insane. Just slightly. I'm considering (well, pretty close to decided) getting into Lolita fashion.<br />
<br />
Some of you just jumped for joy at the thought, some of you are confused, and some of you are slightly disturbed because you have certain connotations with the word "Lolita" already. I can assure you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lolita" target="_blank">it's not what you think</a>.<br />
<br />
For those who don't know, "Lolita" is the general name for a type of fashion originating from Japan. There are several sub-types of Lolita, but the overall style can be characterized by feminine details, voluminous skirts, and a sense of youthfulness. Lolita is <i>not</i> an attempt to attract pedophiles; the name for the fashion was probably chosen by someone who didn't know much about the novel beyond "there's a beautiful young woman in it".<br />
<br />
Anyway, the other day I woke up and checked Tumblr (like ya do) when I noticed that a friend of mine had reblogged a couple of <a href="http://ivorysorrows.tumblr.com/post/33962186774/rufflesandsteam-my-first-classic-lolita-outfit" target="_blank">photos</a> of lolita outfits*. It was like a tiny voice inside of me was just saying "You should try that. You should try that." It got me out of bed within five minutes of waking up on a Saturday (not an easy feat) to head over to my computer and search out information on Lolita.<br />
<br />
I have fallen down a strange rabbit hole.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dajf.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/multiple-template-images/4ff2d0a0abbb8/featureImg.132fe9cff2f492d1b680f80cdf91b802.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://www.dajf.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/multiple-template-images/4ff2d0a0abbb8/featureImg.132fe9cff2f492d1b680f80cdf91b802.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very pretty rabbit hole.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
I do like the silhouette of Lolita; it's very attractive and flattering on just about every body type. I also know it isn't a fetish, and it isn't something degenerate or perverse. But there are a couple of things that I'm still working on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBkhtdDGlvisZMvW9vIUpk0py0xrEXHY_PtVXxoSzmt67XkbwjEFx-X84d2pA6W5r1woqqA43l8vuxg3WHdq_ivk-zgHNX9AMzq3JOTjBzm2raTSGSB-ijfEXJ2xF8o76eDKy7rhXSS1G/s1600/sweet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBkhtdDGlvisZMvW9vIUpk0py0xrEXHY_PtVXxoSzmt67XkbwjEFx-X84d2pA6W5r1woqqA43l8vuxg3WHdq_ivk-zgHNX9AMzq3JOTjBzm2raTSGSB-ijfEXJ2xF8o76eDKy7rhXSS1G/s320/sweet2.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
First is the fact that one type of Lolita, called Sweet Lolita, can sometimes look to me like my grandmother's dolls. It puts me off by the sheer cutesiness of it, and also by the cognitive dissonance that sets in when I see grown women attiring themselves in such a way that I'm reminded of baby dolls. I know, however, that there are lots of girls and women who truly feel beautiful when dressed like this, and it's not my place to tell them to stop doing something that makes them feel good and doesn't hurt anyone. It's not their job to change how they express themselves; it's my job to get used to it and come to a new understanding.<br />
<br />
The other misgiving I have about Lolita is that there seems to be a serious consumerist streak in the fashion. You hear a lot of talk about brands, and things being "brand" or "off-brand". Now, I understand that Lolita would probably not exist were it not for companies like Angelic Pretty making and marketing the aesthetic, but I come from steampunk, which is a culture which actively encourages and celebrates making things. You get a lot more love for making your outfit and/or gadgets than you do if you just buy up a bunch of clothes labelled "steampunk" from a store. Lolita, while not the opposite, is very different. People who make their garments are still celebrated, but it seems to me (granted, I am an outsider looking in) that brands tend to rule. The clothes are also very expensive when bought new, because the brands make clothes in a very high quality with custom prints on the fabric, so you have women spending hundreds of dollars on perfectly coordinated outfits. For someone who doesn't have a job, that gets daunting; for someone who generally resents American culture's consumerism and the constant push to buy moremoremore, facing the task of sanely building a small beginning Lolita wardrobe without exploding from sticker shock and credit card debt is VERY daunting.<br />
<br />
In spite of all of this, I think I'm going to forge ahead. The aesthetic is just too appealing. In a couple of weeks I'll be buying a petticoat, and depending on costs I'll be getting lace and ribbon to take some t-shirts and make them into cutsews**. Hopefully all will go well and I'll come out of this happy and pretty.<br />
<br />
Really quick, so that it's said: Sweet Lolita isn't all that's out there, and the choice isn't even between Sweet and Gothic (lots of people are only aware of these two because of anime). The other most common style of Lolita is called Classic, and that's what I'm drawn to the most. Classic is a bit more mature, a bit more flexible, but still feminine and youthful. Basically, it's right up my alley:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbv15okU201ryf2ffo2_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbv15okU201ryf2ffo2_400.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbkuuu5a7t1r1b8kfo1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbkuuu5a7t1r1b8kfo1_400.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc9uplJa6H1rqnpwho1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc9uplJa6H1rqnpwho1_400.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
So yeah, I'm gonna work towards looking more like that... without going bankrupt before I'm out of college.<br />
<br />
I'll let this little ten-minute documentary play me out. There are some interesting things brought up that I could cover in a future post (with regards to feminist things), but it's also just a great way to see Lolita in action.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/wV5FAkyAg_M/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wV5FAkyAg_M&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wV5FAkyAg_M&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*In lolita, they're not just "outfits". They're <i>coordinates.</i> Still kinda wigged out by that, to be honest.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Cutsews are Lolita tops made from knit fabric as opposed to woven cotton. They're essentially made from t-shirt material and great for more casual days.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97087721638618682.post-69194046157212004542012-09-24T11:44:00.001-07:002012-09-24T11:44:05.061-07:00Voting: Why You Should Care<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgGsCkS9pP42ev66oSA3x2EPphy4k_DMluQwr-wYEZg9dj7CX8TKBrUFpluOiCzy3W4VF39NruLHk5zhCAbfOmMRMyLg1nNLlKqn-xrI5qDc7JkvppgKQOcln0uOfoUKHFRIVeAEgKqY/s1600/vote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgGsCkS9pP42ev66oSA3x2EPphy4k_DMluQwr-wYEZg9dj7CX8TKBrUFpluOiCzy3W4VF39NruLHk5zhCAbfOmMRMyLg1nNLlKqn-xrI5qDc7JkvppgKQOcln0uOfoUKHFRIVeAEgKqY/s400/vote.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I know a lot of people are tired by the political theatre right now. You may not be impressed by either the Democratic or Republican candidates. You may hate the mudslinging from both sides. You may think the whole thing is overrated.<br />
<br />
And you're going to roll your eyes when I say this: <b>You still need to vote.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I don't care how disillusioned you are. I don't care how cynical you are. For our country's government to work, you need to vote.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing: you don't like Obama or Romney? Vote for Gary Johnson, or any of the other candidates for President. The more people out there who vote for the candidate they actually support, the better sense politicians get of what their constituents actually want. Remember what happened in 2010? Tea Partiers voted in all of these far-right conservatives into the House of Representatives so that the government could be shrunk and now <i>nothing is getting done</i>.* And our country is in a bad place because people voted <i>against</i> something (incumbents, taxes, more involved government) more than <i>for</i> something.<br />
<br />
When you vote for the candidate who best represents your interests and provides what you think is the best vision for the nation, then they know that their ideas have some weight, and they'll work for your support. Other politicians will see that person's success (or lack thereof) with their positions, and adjust accordingly based on what the people want.<br />
<br />
But really, that's only part of why you should SERIOUSLY VOTE.<br />
<br />
If you are a citizen of this country, <b>people fought- <i>hard</i>- so that you would be able to choose who ran the country.</b> If you're a white man, white men before you died during the War for Independence so that you could have a say in your government. If you're a person of color, people of color before you were murdered by white supremacists for trying to vote, had to combat poll taxes and literacy tests specifically designed to keep POC's from voting in parts of the country into the 1950s and 1960s. If you're a woman, women before you worked for nearly 100 years, faced shame, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pO70ZjZ0wrw" target="_blank">imprisonment and torture</a>**, just so that you could have the vote.<br />
<br />
And you're going to thank them by not picking up where they left off and getting involved in the way your country is run?<br />
<br />
If you're not registered already, <a href="https://register.rockthevote.com/registrants/new?partner=8365" target="_blank">register online</a> because it's easy.<br />
<br />
If you're nowhere near the county where you're registered, like me, <a href="https://www.usvotefoundation.org/vote/home.htm" target="_blank">request an absentee ballot</a> to be mailed to you.<br />
<br />
If you're in a state with new voter ID laws, <a href="http://www.866ourvote.org/pages/voter-id-info" target="_blank">figure out how to work with them</a>.<br />
<br />
In this day and age, where every citizen over the age of 18 has the right to vote, where you don't even need to leave your home in order to vote, barring your not having access to a government ID (in some states), you basically have no excuse. And <b>you must vote</b>. If you care about the direction in which our country goes, <b>you must vote</b>. If you don't vote because you chose not to, you don't get to complain about the outcome.<br />
<br />
In early October, I'll be receiving a ballot in my mailbox. I will be choosing the candidates who best represent my interests, and then I will be sending the ballot back to Contra Costa county to have my votes counted. I'll have contributed to how my country's government functions. How awesome is that?<br />
<br />
Register and vote. I don't particularly care whom you vote for (though as a queer person I'd appreciate it if you <a href="http://lesbicrafty.blogspot.com/2012/08/hi-conservative-friends.html" target="_blank">didn't vote for Romney</a>***), just freaking vote. It's not that hard.<br />
<br />
I'm gonna let Hank Green play me out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/bOp0lpXtqN4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Don't blame only Obama for the economy; the Legislative Branch, in theory, has just as much power as he does, and Congress blocked his jobs bill while introducing none by themselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**The clip is from the excellent movie <i>Iron-Jawed Angels</i>, pretty accurately depicting the final push for women's suffrage. Protesters for the National Women's Party, led by Alice Paul (Hilary Swank), were imprisoned for picketing a wartime president. Paul went on a hunger strike, and in order to prevent her starving to death and giving the cause a martyr, the prison force-fed Paul raw eggs and milk.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Gary Johnson is a fiscally conservative, socially progressive alternative</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192782039852604141noreply@blogger.com2