Learning As I Go

I initially began this blog so as to offer commentary on the media and women. I had envisioned witty posts deconstructing advertising and scathing rants taking on society's unrealistic expectations and spotlights on positive role models in pop culture. But, you know what? Fuck that shit, there are way more issues that women face everyday then airbrushed models telling us that our fine-lines are unacceptable.

The past two weeks, I have been reading as many womanist and feminist blogs as I possibly can in order to be well-versed to write this blog. To say I've been humbled would be a vast understatement. Reading and learning about womanism for one has been an eye-opening experience. Never before have I thought of the privilege bestowed on me by my skin colour, 'normal'-ness, class.

At first, denial struck me and I had to really examine those feelings and ultimately discover the oft-buried shame at the treatment of my fellow women, fellow humans at the hands of my race and that for that reason my interest and righteousness in regards to sexism and even racism can come across as patronizing at best. Accepting that we women are not all the same; that my personal experiences of sexism are so minute, so trivial that they barely warrant mention when ranked with the 500 missing Aboriginal women or FGM or AIDS or the billion other gross injustices women face worldwide.

I do not want to appropriate WoC's experiences or women who are differently abled or women who are of a different socio-economic bracket; nor do I want to insist on being a part of every single human rights movement simply because I feel entitled. I will never fall into the ready-made trap of calling reverse racism (wtf does that even mean? Doesn't it stand to reason that reversing racism would equal canceling it out?) that Rush Limbaugh and the neo-conservatives are so fond of crying.

What I want, is to learn and to teach what I learn so that we all might work together to make the lives of women, everywhere, better. The reason I identify as a feminist is not because I want to be represented by the media, warts and all, but because I want to help make the world a place of equality where women are people first.

Wait, What?

Because women who immigrate to Canada get paid $ .56 to the dollar that Canadian-born women make. What would that be compared to what Canadian-born men are paid?

Emphatic Eye-Roll

Because we hate being told to "smile, you'll look prettier".

Welcome to F-ed Up

Throughout the duration of our friendship and roommate-ship, my sister from a different mister, Rebekah, and I have spent a huge chunk of time talking about feminism and what it means to us, who it should represent and, ultimately, why it is just as important today as in 1878 when the Canadian Suffrage movement first kicked off.


After years of passionate discussion we have decided to birth this here blog as a place for us to connect with other people who are feminists (whether they know it yet or not), to discuss the women who have shaped our worlds, to celebrate the policies that support marginalized groups and draw attention to the policies that try to tear us all down, and to write about everything in between.


F-ed Up is a safe, non-judgemental, all-inclusive site that we want to learn from just as much as we want to educate and we truly welcome everyone to join us in navigating feminism in 2010 and beyond.

Mark this Date

Oh geez, Sarah Palin has said something I agree with and it just so happens to be her most intelligent and heartfelt quote to date. Her thoughts on the speculation that she's the recipient of a brand spanking new rack: 


Yes, I think it's pretty ridiculous. And what it does, it ends up ultimately wasting time and wasting people's energies. Here's an example of how it kind of wastes some time. To be judged on or to be talked about on appearance, say chest size — it makes me wear layers. It makes me have to waste time figuring out, What am I going to wear so that nobody will look in a area that I don't need them to look at? I want them to hear what it is that I'm saying. It ends up wasting time and that's just very, very unfortunate.


Cats and dogs, living together!

Ho Yeah, Peggy Hill!

Peggy Hill is awesome for many reasons; she stands up for Bobby when he wants to be a male witch, a ventriloquest, a ballroom dancer with a dog for a partner, a clown, a husky-boy model; she wants Luanne to have the best, most independent life possible; she goes after her dreams and she never stops believing in herself; she loves Hank but never bows to him; and she is awesome for this clip.

Don't Get Raped

Some great advice from blue milk:

"Don’t go out and get drunk, it could lead to you getting raped. Also, don’t have sex with someone because it could get you raped by someone they know. Don’t be young, that could definitely get you raped. While we’re at it, especially don’t be a child, that could really get you raped. Don’t be older either, that can get you raped. Don’t be living in a nursing home; women get raped there. In fact, what are you even doing in an establishment like that, are you asking for it?

Don’t be single; single girls are sluts. Sluts get themselves raped. Don’t be married either or you could get raped by your husband. Don’t go jogging, that is just irresponsible. Don’t go to carparks, that can get you raped. And really don’t go jogging in a carpark, that is like so going to get you raped. Don’t go to public toilets, that can lead to rape. Don’t be dying; dying women get raped. Don’t ever be unconscious for any reason whatsoever, you’ll get yourself raped. Don’t be injured either. Raped. Avoid being physically disabled. Raped. And particularly avoid being intellectually disabled. You couldn’t get yourself more raped. Don’t go out alone, that is dangerous and you could get raped. But don’t accept lifts either; that is just asking for trouble. Don’t ever be naked, it could get you raped. Don’t wear clothing in which I could imagine you naked, that could get you raped. Don’t wear short skirts, they attract rape.


Don’t wear baggy clothing or pyjamas or hospital gowns or a hijab either, women get raped in all those too. Don’t have a father, brother, uncle or grandfather. You could get raped by one of them. And oh my god, don’t even think about having a step-father. So raped. Don’t be ugly or you could deserve rape. Don’t be beautiful, you will be too tempting. Don’t flirt with men, this can get you raped. Don’t be rude to men either – playing with fire. Don’t take public transport. Raped. Don’t drive your own car, what if someone hid in the back seat, you could get raped. Don’t sell sex or anything close to it. Raped, raped, raped. Don’t be mistaken for someone who might sell sex. Obviously, you would get raped. Don’t be a soldier, a waitress, a teacher, a police officer, or a hairdresser. All these women can get raped, sometimes by their professional colleagues.


Don’t dance, it could lead to you getting raped. Don’t relax, what if it made you look like you wanted it. Don’t be stupid, that will surely get you raped. Don’t be naive, you’ll deserve what comes to you. Don’t be adventurous, that is being stupid and stupid women get raped. Don’t be silent, who can be expected to know you didn’t want to be raped. Don’t be intimidated, that can signal weakness and will get you raped. Don’t be trusting, don’t be in awe, don’t be flattered by anyone – that could so get you raped. Especially don’t be female, that could really get you raped, although being male could get you raped too, so don’t do that either.


Not to mention, don’t be gay, people rape people for that, and don’t be straight, members of the opposite sex might think you want it, and REALLY don’t be bisexual, bisexuals are easy and being easy gets you raped."

Of course, all of this can be avoided if you are wearing skinny jeans.

Women Need Not Apply

There is something very wrong with the Top 40 Under 40 list. The annual list celebrates the top forty Canadian business leaders who are thirty-nine and under. While I think that it is terribly important to support and to promote Canadian business there is a disturbing trend concerning the representation of women or rather, the lack of female representation. Over the past ten years there has been only one list that has had more than nine women and a several years that have clocked in with under five. 2009 had a whopping five women to celebrate. Five women to the thirty-five men.


There are several reasons as to why female representation is so low year after year: maybe women aren't being nominated or they are and the advisory board (twenty-two men, three women) don't acknowledge them or maybe there just aren't very many women who meet the requirements. But are any of these reasons acceptable? No matter which way you slice it, the results are the same: we all, men and women alike, lose when representation at any level is so incredibly unbalanced.


If just over half of our population is comprised of women but they only make up a teeny percentage of a leadership list when do we as a society begin asking why and more so, begin taking steps to ensure that everybody has the same opportunities? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to say to young women that they can accomplish anything and mean it? Besides, the one thing we do know is that women are just as smart and just as capable of becoming great leaders.


http://www.top40award-canada.org/about/


http://www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/managing/top-40-under-40-2009/top-40-under-40-awards-celebrate-canadian-leaders/article1590908/

Love Me, Love My Boobs

I've been trying to decide on the topic for my first ever post on this blog. I have envisioned A Womb of One's Own to be this kick-ass feminist blog where kick-ass women can offer what feminism means to them; a place to rant against sexism and stereotypes and TTC toll collectors and anything else that sticks in our collective craws. IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME. I got vision, I got ideas, I got rhythm, who could ask for anything more? Oh, a maiden post, I could ask for that. 


Hmmmmmm, ponder, ponder... I've got it! BOOBS! I got 'em, you got 'em or maybe you don't but then maybe you kinda like 'em but dammmmmmn there is a lot of shit out there about 'em.

In the past hour, alone, I read two articles on a feminist site about the damn things. The first was about a woman being fired from her job for being too sexy; too sexy being having just the right amount of T and A (more on this one later). 

And the second was a reaction to another writer on a different site commenting that women who complain about their big party balloons are really just bragging. The author of the latter post, rightfully, called bullshit on that; women with big cans have back problems, they have difficulty finding tops, they are labeled as promiscuous and so on and so forth. 

The comments were filled with women reinforcing this and sharing stories of their own struggles with large breasts; some were more traumatic than those who found their breasts to be inconvenient. And then there were also the readers who posted how once upon a time they wanted bigger boobs but then decided that their smaller fun bags were waaaaaaaaay better.

Man oh man, that shit really chafes my thighs! Like women don't have enough to worry about without other women building themselves up by way of tearing other women down. As my BFF and soul-twin, Rebekah, pointed out, "it's like saying I'm not good at science and people who are good are losers". 

That is why I don't find those kind of posts to be very constructive in terms starting a dialogue about our bodies. It pits women against women in either a you don't know how bad I got it kind of way or in a well maybe I'm not blank but blank means you're a slut way. 

To post articles that either criticize or glorify women's bodies not only seems to go against that particular site's strict body snarking policy but also just reinforces that women should never be happy with what they have and if they are happy then it must be at the expense of other women. 

But getting back to the twins: women have breasts and whether they're big or small they are ours. Yes, big racks require more material, more money and garner plenty of unwanted attention, at 36F's, I've got a pretty good idea of the down side of ginormous melons but they're mine. They're a part of me just like my eyes and my kidneys and my brain and like my eyes, my kidneys and my brain, I love my lady pillows.

So, I will pay two hundred dollars on a single bra; I will be deemed too sexy when I wear tank tops; I will sadly pass over the cute strapless tops; I will be in pain while running; I will roll my eyes at the catcalls just like I know that my fellow ladies who are less endowed will because no matter your body type your worth is in your sex appeal. 

None of our bodies will ever be good enough for this damn patriarchy but we make a change by standing up and being proud of our bodies because no matter the size, no matter the colour, no matter the tatas, they get us from point A to point B; they are pleasure, they are pain; they birth and feed our children; they are our vessels for the lives we live. 

And I'm spent; the only thing I have left to say about boobs is that they're real and they're spectacular.