Want to help my students out?
If you feel you could help my kiddos and our classroom out, check out our Amazon Wish list . Thank you!
I know we talked about doing this, but it’s coming up closer, so let’s make it happen!
How about brunch on Sunday, October 12th? Anyone have a suggestion of a place to meet?
Can I crash on someone’s couch/floor on Saturday night? I’d rather not spend unnecessary $ if I can avoid it. :)
Send me an email at itssnix [at] gmail [.] com if you are interested in either of these so we can make our plans privately and not so publicly. :)
I AM SO GOING TO THIS!!!! I have been waiting for this for forever! Any other NYC Tumblr educators?
A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’
The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.
Your world is full of freedom and possibility.
Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’
Now imagine this:
The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.
The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.
The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.
These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.
They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.
They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.
Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.
That is why I am a Feminist.
If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.
But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?
And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?
And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?
Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?
When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?
The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.
[ x ]
if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them.
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors?
If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.
This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”.
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live.
Thank you for your important commentary! I hope you find someone who can love you for who you are and admire your strength as a survivor.
holy shit this just makes me so immensely disgusted and i actually feel sick to the core??? just. holy shit.
I SHOULD NOT BE ASHAMED FOR CHOOSING TO LIVE.
This is horrifying
ALL of this commentary is extremely important and everyone needs to read it.
yeah but sexism is totally not a thing and we don’t need feminism at all ladies
once again: why are men the actual worst
I don’t want to man-hate. I feel TERRIBLE for these women. They already have to go through so much, and now they have to feel lesser beings? That’s not fair. On the same token, I know men who would stay through the surgeries, and I don’t think that they would be unable to continue an intimate relationship; I think that these men that I know would love and support their partners.
I have to say though looking at this post does make me remark on something that I’ve noticed. I don’t know if this is a fair feeling or not, but I DO feel that a lot of women are more able to accept a physical deformity like scarring, surgery etc in their partner and that men tend to have a harder time being “ok” with it in their partner. Why is that? Is that because the media brainwashes us on ideas of beauty? Some type of pressure from others? Or is it just themselves? I don’t get it.
I did a lot of things the past few days:
- Grocery shopped
- Did laundry
- Took care of loans/bills
- Hung out with ones of the besties
- Worked out
- Graded for forever
- rough drafted lessons
I still have things I’d like to do, but bottom-line… it’s never ALL going to get done. Each year, I feel that I grow as a teacher. and I’m now able to complete more work etc or see things in a new way etc, however with that growth comes work. I feel that I’ll be able to do “this year’s” work by next year, but by then, I’m assuming I’ll grow and I’ll be striving to catch up. Technically, I could hole away my entire day tomorrow doing school work, but I’ve also learned that it’s ok to take care of myself. It’s ok to work hard for school, but then allow yourself a break even when 1000% of it isn’t done. It will get done, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I learned the hard way that not taking breaks ultimately ends up not being good for me and negatively affect my practice. I’m giving my 100% which goes further than most folks’ 100.
I’ll do a little bit of planning tomorrow. I will arrange my outfits for the week, and I’ll make my lunches. I know I’ll also work out but after that, I want to:
- paint my nails
The coolest thing happened in kickboxing today. I was standing next to a woman named, Beverly, and I discovered that tomorrow will be her 71st birthday. No, I didn’t make a typo. This amazing 71 year old woman was kickboxing today, and it made me think, Hm, look at Beverly. If she can do this, then what’s to keep me from my dreams? I hope I can be even half as cool once I get there.
My super cool buddy sent me a- get this- AWESOME CAT NECKLACE! I’m wearing it now! I LOVE IT! I’m such a cat lady!!!Thank you so much!!!!!
I can’t wait to send my bud something. I’m just waiting on that paycheck.
"He found me and my son on New Year’s Eve, sleeping in a construction site. We’d been forced out on the street after my husband abandoned us. He said: ‘You shouldn’t live like this, come home with me.’ He let us live with him for months, and he never asked me for a thing, and he very good to my son. Sometimes I’d come home and find him carrying my son on his shoulders. After a few months, we developed romantic feelings for each other."
(Ho Chi Minh City / Saigon, Vietnam)
Woah. Kinda beats the how you met your boyfriend story, huh?
So, there is a new administration in town. Last year, there was also a new administration, and the year before there were NEW admins. Seriously, In the four years that I have worked at my school, there have been THREE new principals. My students even asked me, “Hey Miss! Will there be a new principal next year?” That’s how common it’s become.
This is infinitely frustrating. Every. Single. Year. There is a new administration, and it’s like all of this work that you did the year before is wiped away clean. It sucks. The new guy is nice enough…for now, but my school THRIVED with the principal last year. We saw changes that we hadn’t seen in years. When I first started at my school, it was a jungle; the behavior was out of control and the test scores were outrageously low.
I don’t think it’s fair that we were appointed a new principal when our principal last year improved the 8th grade ELA scores by 103%. I don’t think it’s fair that our principal worked tirelessly in order to improve the behavior, succeeded, only to be rewarded with nothing. He is a hard worker. He is not a brown noser, and it’s just not right that he wasn’t dully rewarded.
It feels as if all of the amazing progress we did last year, is at a stand still. It feels as if all of the work that I did last year has been smoothed away by new waves; and I resent it. There was a hope, enthusiasm and energy that I had last year that is replaced with a bitterness and frustration presently. It concerns me because I’m not one of those negative Nancies when it comes to teaching.
I’ve decided that I’m going to still push myself to be a better teacher to my kids, no matter what. I don’t want to be one of those people that are complaining in a lunch room. Yes, it would help to have the refreshed faith in the admins. Yes, it would give me more energy and pep in my step, but I don’t have that right now, and my kids need me.
ALSO, this is such a side note…but I had to cut ties with one of my work friends. You know when you have to do that? It sucks, and I must admit it hurts. You don’t want to let a friend go, but when they’re toxic in you’re life and make you feel shitty constantly then you know what? It’s time to break ties. It’s just funny that this former bud’s apology comes too little and too late. You messed up.You had a good friend, and you didn’t mess it up once but multiple times.Guess what? I don’t wanna hear it. It’s like that catchy One Republic Song “It’s too late to ‘pologize. Toooo laaaaate.”