A Lack of Support: A Guest Post

Today’s post comes from Angela, who blogs over at The Clutter Box. (I LOVE that blog title, BTW). She recently had an uncomfortable experience with her job, which is why she’s writing about it for me. Women are often punished for writing honestly about our personal experiences, especially if they happen in the workplace. 

In my job, I deal with students. Most are great, some are not. I absolutely hate parts of my job. I am not a sales person. I am, however, great at networking, customer service, and events. When you succeed with those three things, sales eventually come, but now I’m veering off topic!

I deal with a special group of students. For this particular group of students, I am one of the first women they deal with when they come to school. I give them everything. I explain how things work and what to do when. I am a contact for any needs, and I feed them. This has been a great relationship-building thing, it has done wonders for my numbers and my end goal, but it is also creating a bigger issue. 

I am constantly surrounded by this group. They are everywhere and no matter where I go, they always find me. At the end of the day, I usually walk with my co-workers to a point, but then we split off to go our different directions home. At that point I am usually surrounded, and they walk with me as far as I will let them. They come into the branch individually taking their turns greeting me in my office. They will huddle in the ATM room waiting for us to leave after closing, to greet us then walk me out. They are super friendly and have always responded to my requests of leaving me at certain places or not following me further.

Then Valentine’s Day happened. One particular gentleman came into my office--not unusual, as he was usually in once or twice a week. Except this time he hung around waiting for my clients to leave and when they took longer than he had anticipated, he came back later. He also asked to speak to me privately. I was semi smart about this. I didn't close my door, and I made sure that my one co-worker was aware of what was happening and watching. He sat down and asked if we could be friends. I wasn't expecting that kind of question, so I didn't really say anything. He asked for my cell phone number; I gave him my business card with my work contact information. He asked if I was on Facebook; I lied and said I wasn't. He gave me Valentine’s Day cookies and asked if I would help with his English soon. I think the entire time he was in my office, I said two words: Hello and Goodbye.

After he left I proceeded to have a good freak out. With the language barrier, I didn't know what he meant. My definition of the word Friend could be completely different from his definition of the word. And accepting a present doesn't really help things, not that I actually accepted it, he just kinda left it there on the table. At this point I decided enough was enough. I don’t really want to be dealing with these types of issues. So I called my supporting manager and discovered he can’t do a thing, other than tell me to stand up for myself (which I already knew). I called security and because I am not a student they will not escort me on campus, same with the safe-walk program (which is bullshit… does it not cover female instructors??).

When I pulled up security’s information the internet also pulled up the statistics for this particular campus in regards to assaults, harassment/threats, robbery, drugs, breaking and entering, theft, etc. That was an interesting albeit disturbing read. The numbers for a small campus are ridiculously high. Who know such a thing existed on the internet. But it is ridiculous. Here I am asking for assistance in this issue, but no one will help until I become another statistic.

I am pretty out there on the internet. You have to look for me, but I'm not that hard to find. (I can totally hear my Dad in my head right now... lecturing about security and the internet). I've tried living without blogging. It's not possible. I care too much about the community of people I've met to give up blogging. I care about having the freedom to express myself. I also care about personal safety and having support.

This is one of those things that I can’t write about on my own blog, but I just needed to share it. Since I don’t have the support I need at work, I hope that Belle’s readers can offer the support I’m unable to ask of my own readers.

Sunday Shoutouts: The New Year and Feminism

Last weekend, I visited Beau, who had just moved into a new place. We had a pretty great weekend, the perfect balance between productivity and relaxation. I usually leave early Monday morning to come back to my city, but when we woke up to go to work, we discovered we were under a Level Three Snow Emergency. For my fellow southerners who have no idea what that means, a Level Three means the roads are closed to non-emergency personnel. So it would have been illegal for me to drive home. I ended up snowed in until Wednesday morning, when I was finally able to get back.

Last week's Sunday Shoutouts were all about the New Year. Today will include a few more inspiring New Year links, among others.

Most Intersectional: NinjaCate aka Batty Mamzelle is the primary reason I'm trying to be a more intersectional feminist. Her writing never fails to teach me something new. A few days ago, she wrote a straightforward post called "This Is What I Mean When I Say 'White Feminism.'" It included the following handy (if limited*) diagram.

Most Thought-Provoking: Betsy shared her thoughts on remembering the past and learning from our mistakes. Her post "Regrets and Blank Slates" reminds us that we can't really start fresh with the New Year, as much as we like to think the past is just in the past.

Best Feminist New Year's Resolution: I love this idea that we should adopt feminists. Those of us who have been feminists for a long time should guide some newbie feminists.

Most Eye-Opening and Heartbreaking: Our society does not take rape seriously. That is the shortest way to explain rape culture. Ma'lik Richmond, one of the Steubenville rapists, was just released after only serving nine months of a minimum one-year sentence. This is a clear-cut example of our society not taking rape seriously. From the linked article:

Our society is clearly failing young women. That young men are sufficiently comfortable in their behaviour that they think nothing of taping and distributing their crimes shows just how little society values young women.

But we are also failing young men because we keep permitting this cycle to repeat. Perhaps these boys act like they did nothing wrong because they have absorbed the convoluted messages of a culture that reassures them that they haven’t.

What have you read recently? Share your links in the comments! Also, just FYI, if you've written something brag-worthy, you can share your own post with me, and I'll consider it for next week's Sunday Shoutouts.

*Please don't debate the limitations of the graphic in my comments. They will not be approved. If you follow the link, NinjaCate has explained the graphic's limitations in both the post itself and further in the comments.

Today I am 28: A Guest Post

Today's guest post is written by my friend Elle, who is one of the coolest and funniest people I follow on twitter. Elle is a born and bred Georgian, Coordinator of Toddlery, and living life just trying to get a piece of Aggro Crag.


Today I am 28 years old.

When I was a little girl I wanted to be married and having my first kid by the time I was 25, just like my mom.

I’m single, with no cats, and I have an unhealthy attachment to my couch.

I am pretty happy with my life.

However, I’m not happy with society.

I have kept quiet for many years, and at 28, I feel that I can finally talk openly about it, because now I don’t have anyone telling me to stay quiet.

I remember the first time I was body shamed

I couldn’t have been 10 years old. I was with my father visiting family friends in Florida.

They had a pool, and two sons.

I am sure some girls know what happens next because they themselves had to go through the same thing.

My father made me put a big, baggy, t-shirt on over my bathing suit before I got in the pool.

“Your body is changing now, and boys can’t handle that.”

I wasn’t even 10, and I was taught that boys could not control themselves when it came to girls.

I remember the second time I was body shamed

My stepdad got a work transfer the summer before 5^th grade started. We were moving from a smallish, southern town, to an affluent suburb of a major city. I didn’t want to be bullied so I worked on losing my southern accent, and learning to forget about all the “southern” things that I enjoyed.

A few weeks into school I started hearing the rumors.

“Her boobs are fake.”

“She had a boob job and that’s why they moved here.”

“She had her nose done, too.”

I had never thought of my body as being different. My mom had worked on a college campus, and I was around college-aged women all the time--I thought my body was pretty normal compared to all the women I was surrounded by.

Still a child, and I was body shamed by my peers this time.

Shamed because of something I could NOT control.

Confessions of a Humorless Feminist

It's telling that when I googled "learn to take a joke" and searched specifically for images, that the first three results were a variation of the following.

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Feminists can't take a joke! We're too uptight! We need to calm down! We're overreacting!

I try really hard not to be a feminist stereotype. I'm very adamant in my beliefs, but I try my damnedest to be patient and to teach Feminism 101 to anyone who asks questions or politely disagrees with me out of innocent ignorance. 

But I can't compromise my values just to be agreeable. 

Sometimes, this means I'm a humorless feminist.

Frankly, I don't give a damn.

Several weeks ago, Beau's brother and sister-in-law did their own version of a Thanksgiving with friends. It was nice because the group invited was a mix of people I'd met before and new people. It's important for me to get to know Beau's friend circle since I'll be living in his small town eventually, away from all of my friends in the city. 

Dinner was a lot of fun, and conversation flowed as freely as the alcohol. The smoked turkey was HEAVENLY. As we wrapped up dinner, we started discussing games we could play. One couple had brought Cards Against Humanity with them, and they were really persuasive in playing that. I did my best to rally two other people to play euchre with Beau and me, to no avail.

I have never played Cards Against Humanity, but Lauren and Hardy have both told me not to play it. 

via

With a group of people I barely know, I couldn't just confront them about their horrible choice in board games. So I did the next best thing and quietly went upstairs to watch Star Trek: Deep Space Nine with Beau while they laughed about marginalized peoples: racial minorities, rape survivors, victims of public shootings, etc.

We came back downstairs after one episode to eat dessert. I had hoped that the game was over, but alas. Just listening to one round while I ate my apple pie almost made me start crying. I was literally blinking back tears as they read off cards about gang rape and child molestation. 

I blogged once about joking about difficult subjects. When done well, rape jokes can be both hilarious and healing.

The rape jokes, and the racist jokes, and the tragedy jokes in Cards Against Humanity are not done well, and they do not offer any healing.

I hope to maybe one day be good enough friends with these people that I can explain to them why I'm so disappointed (and aghast, and shocked, and disturbed by) their choice in a board game. I hope that I can figure out a way to explain this to them in such a way that they don't automatically dismiss me as hysterical or overreacting. 

Until then, I will be the humorless feminist who refuses to use my position of privilege to mock those without it.

Sunday Shoutouts: Another Great Week!

I feel like this is a good time to mention I've been super-busy. I know that most of the time I'm an open book about personal topics, but for now, I have some stuff going on in my life that I'm not willing to share with the anon half of my life. It's good stuff, but it takes up most of my free time. 

But I still had time to read some awesome articles this week, which I can't wait to share with my beloved readers.

Most Eye-Opening: On tumblr, I came across this great piece on privilege. ' "Privilege" doesn't mean "easy" ' examines the resistance to the concept of privilege and very simply explains the most basic aspects of privilege.

Best Post on Modesty: My friend Emily Maynard wrote another wonderful article on the harmful effects of modesty, "My Eyes Are Up Here."

Best Binge Read: Sometimes I binge read blogs. That is, I won't check one of my favorite blogs--usually the Christian feminist blogs--for a few weeks, and then I'll just spend hours reading their latest work, plus whatever is linked from their older posts. I most recently read several posts all at once by Samantha at Defeating the Dragons. I love this piece on benevolent sexism, "Chivalry is dead, but civility is very much alive." I bookmarked an incredible piece called "Standing up for women in public" that I plan to reference in a future blog post of my own. Finally, Samantha wrote a wonderful post on on rape culture that is my most successful tumblr post so far. In "Let's talk about drunk women and sex," she asks this brilliant question: Men, why do you so vehemently defend your desire to have sex with unresponsive women?

What did you read this week?

My Bikini Answer: My Body Is Not Sinful

This will not be my last post on modesty, but it is my final post on bikinis. I wrote this while on vacation on a houseboat in Tennessee with Beau and his family. The delay in posting comes from technological issues, two jobs, a cold, and a last-minute attempt at intersectionality.

Tuesday night.

Beau sits on the stool next to me, studying for the Professional Engineering exam.

I'm not wearing a bra. It's not obvious with both a t-shirt and a sweatshirt on, but I'm sure if anyone in his family looked too closely earlier, with my sweatshirt discarded, they might have noticed the droopiness of my unsupported boobs or the pointiness of my uncovered nipples. 

My wardrobe thus far has been a steady rotation of three bikinis, two cover-ups, and comfy pjs completely stolen from Beau's wardrobe: Super Mario pj pants, a t-shirt from ThinkGeek, and a rotation of the three sweatshirts he packed for us to share this week.

According to the original bikini post, my "immodest" clothing choices this week cause the men around me to lust. 

The way we dress impacts those around us, especially guys. I don’t really want a guy to look at me and notice me for my butt, upper thighs, or chest. I’d rather him notice my smile or God-loving personality...

Girls are walking around all the time with barely any clothes on at the beach or pool! Guys can never get a break from it, even if they’re trying to see past all the bodies to find the smiles and personalities within the girls.

So really, how hard is it to not wear a bikini? If you’re like me, it might be a little disappointing. You also might have to save a little more babysitting money to buy a cute (yes, cute ones do exist) tankini or one piece. But honestly, a little disappointment and a little extra cash aren’t that hard to swallow. Especially when such things are to fulfill a God given responsibility. In his Theology of the Body, soon to be Saint John Paul II said, God has assigned as a duty to every man the dignity of every woman. He also assigns to every woman the dignity of every man. Let’s make a commitment this summer to ditch the skimpy swimsuits, earn self respect, and help our brothers in Christ.

But she, and other modesty advocates, actually say more than that.

According to them, when you read their words with a critical eye, my clothing does not cause lust--my body does. Just my revealed stomach--the main difference between a bikini and "modest" swimsuits--apparently causes lust. If a guy happens to notice my body before my personality, then he's lusting after me, and it's my fault for not covering up those curves. If my body can't be covered up to prevent lust, then my body is sinful.

I vehemently disagree.

My body is not sinful. My body cannot cause a man to lust. 

One of my favorite Bible verses is Genesis 1:27. 

So God created humankind in His image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.

How can my body be sinful when I am made in God's own image?

Culture of the Catcall: A Guest Post

I am super-excited to introduce my friend Hayley to y’all. She was one of my first guest bloggers, and I am thrilled to have her write for me again! Hayley is a twenty-something, public relations major with a drive to conquer the world. She is currently studying Spanish in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She hopes to one day be a successful writer. In her free time she teaches swim lessons, reads, and, of course, writes! While I am working on my tan and catching up on my reading, you should check out her adventures at Classy in Argentina.

Leaving my apartment, dressed in jeans, a ponytail, and a heavy coat, I didn’t expect I would be garnering much male attention. But nonetheless, I was greeted several times by “aye chica” and “que hermosa” as I walked to my University. Such is a day in the life of a woman living in Latin America.

Before coming to Argentina, I thought I understood what the culture between men and women would be like. I knew that men would occasionally call out to you on the street, complimenting you on your striking, American beauty. In my head I had envisioned these comments coming from gorgeous men that were sure to fall in love with me. I thought I was going to feel complimented.

Victim-Blaming: A Guest Post

Two weekends ago, I worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at JCP. Because my boyfriend loves me, he still spent the weekend with me. And because he really loves me, he surprised me with a clean apartment, multiple home-cooked meals, and a blog post.

Hi, it’s me, Beau... I know I haven’t written a guest post in a LOOOOONG time (sorry for being all Mel Brooks and never making a part II). But while Belle is working her second job today, and between that and spending time with me doesn’t have time to blog, I am looking for ways to help her out. Way number 1 was me doing some laundry and washing her sheets (hey, they are dirty and at least half my fault). While I was down there stuffing sheets and towels into the washer--and hoping I chose the right cycle--I noticed a bulletin on the wall (conveniently located under Belle’s pleading for the return of her sexy panties [which I miss by the way]). After reading said bulletin, I couldn’t help but to compare it with another bulletin posted throughout the building. I am posting both bulletins here for your consideration (sorry for the crappy phone camera quality). I have removed some key information to protect the innocent. Please read them before continuing... I’ll wait.

Let me preface (or midface if you prefer) this blog post a bit. You all are aware of Belle’s fight against victim blaming. What you may not have caught is that I have not always been on her side on this issue. As a logical individual who is all about dealing with consequences and being self-reliant, I have at times in the past engaged in what I now know to be victim blaming... Sad story, but as someone who has seen the light (pardon all of the religious metaphors coming from an atheist), I now find it necessary to point out the message that hit home with me in these two bulletins. Which happens to be way number 2 I figured out how to give her a helping hand this weekend...

My Bikini Answer: All Women Cannot Prevent the Lust of All Men

I obviously have a lot of THOUGHTS and FEELINGS on bikinis and modesty. For now, however, I want to stick with criticizing the original piece that started this year’s modesty shitstorm. I realize that at this point, I’m writing two months after the original article. Sorry, y’all, but I am not paid to blog, and as much as I love writing, I love writing well even more, which means that it takes time to organize all my thoughts coherently.

I mentioned a shitstorm, right? Yeah, the evangelical and/or feminist blogosphere has gone crazy this summer (like it does every summer…) talking about bikinis and modesty. Although each voice is slightly different, on both sides of the argument, I see one common theme throughout the pro-modesty bloggers/commenters, one that is present in the original post.

So why don’t you just wear a bikini, you ask? Why? Because I am making a sacrifice for the guys around me. I’ve heard the excuse, Guys just have an imagination, it’s not a girl’s problem. Frankly, I think that’s stupid. Part of it is our problem. The way we dress impacts those around us, especially guys. I don’t really want a guy to look at me and notice me for my butt, upper thighs, or chest. I’d rather him notice my smile or God-loving personality. Well sure, you say, that’s all fine and good, but guys should be able to control their imagination and look beyond our bodies. That’s true, they should control it. But it’s important for girls to help them as they try and do so…

This is how I imagine it is for guys. Girls are walking around all the time with barely any clothes on at the beach or pool! Guys can never get a break from it, even if they’re trying to see past all the bodies to find the smiles and personalities within the girls.

So really, how hard is it to not wear a bikini? If you’re like me, it might be a little disappointing... Let’s make a commitment this summer to ditch the skimpy swimsuits, earn self respect, and help our brothers in Christ.

The original article never refers to scripture, but the comments and other blogs are all quick to quote Romans 14 as justification for women covering up their bodies. The overall message is: Yes, men are responsible for their own lust, but women need to help them out by covering up.

Seriously, if one more person tells me I’m a “stumbling block” for men, I’ll give up clothes forever and join a nudist colony.

Let’s examine Romans 14 together. The entire chapter is relevant, so you should pull that up in a separate window. I’m just going to quote the part that is popular on the Interwebz.

Romans 14: 20-21 (NRSV) 20 Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God. Everything is indeed clean, but it is wrong for you to make others fall by what you eat; 21 it is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that makes your brother or sister stumble.

One more common point by the pro-modesty crowd. Many of them offer the analogy of an alcoholic. Would you serve alcohol to your friend who’s a recovering alcoholic? No, because you don’t want to tempt him to sin, even if drinking alcohol isn’t sinful for you.

Should I give up champagne forever just in case I run into an alcoholic?

The original bikini post, the horrible misinterpretation of Romans 14, and the alcoholic analogy all share a fatal flaw:

My Bikini Answer: Sexual Attraction is not Lust

Beau is a very supportive boyfriend. Not only does he not mind me writing all about our love and non-sex sex life on the Internet, but he reads all of my blog posts faithfully. He then gives me feedback on my writing. Sometimes he points out the occasional typo, but mostly he just tells that me I'm a wonderful writer, and that he'll happily be a SAHD in the future when I'm a world-famous author. 

A few weeks ago, I wrote about going to the pool with Beau and my besties, Hardy and Lauren. Who love the nicknames I gave them, by the way. Beau read it while we were skyping, and then this conversation happened.

Beau: Well... I definitely noticed Lauren in a bikini.

Me: But you weren't lusting after her.

Beau: Uhh...

Me: Were you thinking of her as a sexual object who only existed for your pleasure?

Beau: No.

Me: You just noticed that my best friend is hot and looks good in a bikini?

Beau: Yes.

Me: That's not lust, babe. In fact, I think my next bikini post will be on the differences between attraction and lust.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Modesty culture does not distinguish between healthy, biological sexual attraction and unhealthy, objectifying lust. As usual, I am not the first to write about this, and I do want to acknowledge what else has already been eloquently stated on this topic. However, I also want to differentiate even further and consider appreciation, attraction, and lust as three distinct reactions to a bikini-clad body (or really, any "attractive" human being).

Appreciation: Good-looking people are not all identical. Obviously beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that, but even if you look at a sampling of Beautiful People, they are not all the same. Brad Pitt is conventionally attractive. So are Will Smith, Orlando Bloom, Patrick Dempsey, Ryan Gosling, etc. I look at all of these men and acknowledge they are Beautiful People. But I'm personally not attracted to all of them. They are not all My Type. I appreciate all their good looks, but I am not attracted to all their good looks. If you've ever told your best friend how hot she looks, or your younger brother how handsome he is (and you weren't lying to be nice), then you understand. You can appreciate someone's attractiveness without being attracted to that person. 

Just for the record, this is me with the majority of my female friends. (The majority of my male friends too, for that matter). Just because I'm attracted to women, and I think my female friends are attractive, does NOT mean I'm automatically attracted to all my female friends.

Sexual Attraction: When I see Will Smith or Orlando Bloom, I get these feelings. Physical feelings. And when I see Beau, especially when he's looking at me in that way, these physical feelings are like a tingling sensation all over my body, but especially in my lady bits. This is sexual attraction. It is a natural, biological response. In fact, it is a natural, God-given response. If we never felt sexual attraction, we wouldn't want to have sex. If we never had sex, we could never procreate. And God's most awesome creation would have ended at Adam and Eve.*

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Lust: I am guilty of lust. Yes, women are capable of lust. When I go to tumblr and look at photo sets of Naya Rivera, which are often collections that focus just on her perfect tits or splendid ass, I am lusting after her. I am not seeing Naya Rivera as a talented, kind-hearted person worthy of dignity and respect.** I am looking at her body and thinking about how much I enjoy it. I am objectifying her. This is lust, and this is the sin God calls us to avoid.

The Panty-Grabber, Rape Jokes, and Vulnerability

The night after some creep stole my underwear, I went to Lauren's apartment to have dinner with her and Hardy. Wine in hand, we sat around while dinner simmered on the stove, and I told them all about my ordeal. Their response was just what I needed. They sympathized with me completely. They asked all the right questions. They were appropriately shocked and disturbed. 

After dinner, and several glasses of wine later, Lauren coined the phrase "panty grabber." We had been joking about several topics, and making the little "shame, shame" motions with our hands, when she did the gesture again, saying, "Tsk, tsk, panty grabber!" And I about died laughing. We started repeating it over and over (I mentioned the several glasses of wine, right?), and Hardy came in, completely bewildered. I'm sure he thought we were crazy.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

Bad comedians claim that any joke, no matter how offensive, should be okay to tell, because humor and free speech blah blah blah.

Average comedians think maybe some subjects shouldn't be used in jokes.

Good comedians know that any topic can be the basis for a joke, if done correctly. 

A good comedian can joke about rape. Unfortunately, bad comedians tend to be the ones mostly joking about rape, making assholes of themselves, and screeching FREE SPEECH as though they have a clue. 

If you ever want to joke about rape, Lindy West wrote an excellent guide to doing so. In a nutshell, joking about rape, or other offensive topics, is okay when the rapist, or rape culture, is the butt of the joke, NOT the rape victim.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

Vulnerability is not my strength.

I like to be strong. Independent. Confident. Carefree. 

I don't like feeling hurt. I don't like feeling scared, or unsure, or alone, or nervous. And if I do feel these things, I'd rather not anyone know. I'd rather come off as cold or indifferent or angry than admit I'm in pain.

But I'm trying. I've learned how to be vulnerable with Beau, and I have a few other close friends to whom I've opened up. I've written some vulnerable posts here, and I have it on good authority that they're among my best. 

I'm an eternal optimist. I'm all about the silver lining. So when I think about the panty-grabber, I prefer focusing on my ability to take this horrific event and write two blog posts about it.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

So what do the panty-grabber, rape jokes, and vulnerability have in common?

I was strong for the first few hours after my underwear was stolen. But then I broke down into tears over the ordeal. I was more composed when I saw Hardy and Lauren the next day, but I was still upset, and they validated my feelings.

First with Beau's support, and then with my friends' understanding, I felt better. My fear was real. My pain was real. My reaction to the situation was not a joke. But I still reached a point when I could laugh about it. 

Lauren unwittingly helped me with that by referring to the creep as the panty-grabber. Just that little, silly phrase removes his power over me. No, I don't plan on doing my laundry in my apartment building anytime soon, but I feel more like he's just a pathetic loser than a terrifying rapist-in-training. 

The panty-grabber tried to hurt me, but it turns out, the joke is on him. I have a drawer full of new sexy panties courtesy of Beau, and the women in this building are all now aware of the panty-grabber's existence. So the panty-grabber might have momentarily thrown me off-balance, but I've already repaired the damage and prevented him from any future thievery in this building. 

I'm still strong, hot, and awesome, and he's just a sad little creep who's destined to die alone.