Being Amber Rhea

Lots of things I want to say but not sure how to tie them all together coherently - so I won’t try. Gotta keep reminding myself: old-school blogging FTW! I can guarantee that this post will mix the personal and the socio-political in all kinds of confusing and inconsistent ways.

But I guess first I should explain the title of the post. Heh, that’s why I have an inside jokes tag. Jenny sent a tweet yesterday wherein she coined the term (she also recently coined “sleevishness,” referring to wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve) and then I put it in my GTalk status, which is our medium of choice for enabling each other’s procrastination at work.

Now that that’s out of the way, I want to jump right in with some quotage. Last night I read this post by Glamourpuss at The Pole Affair and got déjà vu because I swear I’ve written something nearly identical in my paper journal at some point during the last ~10 years.

She asks me what I do when people hurt me and I tell her I don’t say much, preferring instead to walk away, hide, lick my wounds in private and avoid further pain. She asks if I confront my aggressor and I say that generally, I do not, and I certainly don’t retaliate. She asks why and I say because confrontation scares the hell out of me and that’s the way I’ve always done it. She points out that what worked for the little girl in a turbulent household and kept her safe, may not work now, and it’s time to question this learned behaviour. That gives me plenty to mull over. I tell her I accept she’s right, but truly, I have no idea how to be different — what does being different actually entail and what do I do to be that?

Then today, in the comments of the amazing post which I linked to earlier (to which…), I read this comment, and it nearly made me cry; because as I told Rusty on AIM, this commenter absolutely nails everything I’ve TRIED to articulate many times before but have always failed.

I’m thinking of all the times people have told me to shut up, to calm down, that things that I care about or that bother me or that genuinely concern or frighten me are no big deal and I’m just being irrational and overemotional, or that I’m just plain wrong about my own opinions, feelings, or experiences and then later, the same people say “well geez Sugar, don’t be such a victim, why do you give up so easily/ feel so helpless/ not speak up/ never stand up for yourself?”

WHY? FUCKING WHY?!!!! ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING SERIOUS.

Because you will treat me like an idiot if I do. Because you will dismiss me if I do. Because nothing I say or do will be listened to for the most part, and I have no way of guessing which are the exceedingly rare situations in which it will, so WHY in all the nine hells should I even consider opening myself for ridicule and condescending remarks and then also have my needs or worries unmet anyway?!!!! I actually have a fucking brain, contrary to popular thought, and frankly I find it pretty IMPRACTICAL (oh noes, I know the logicks?!) to make gestures which I know from experience to not only be fruitless, but also to invite more woe upon my head. I tend, in my actions, to attempt to protect myself from further harm if harm’s been done already and I don’t feel I’m in a position with enough advantage to correct it. OH GODS, THE BRAINING. SHIT, IT’S LIKE FUCKING POETRY, EXCEPT WITH MORE MATHS.

I’m running out of sarcastic remarks to type in all caps, but all the exclamation points in the world wouldn’t be enough to emphasize this: We’re. Not. Stupid. Or Crazy. Or Lying.

I felt the pang of a knife twisting in my gut as I read it. I was thinking YES YES YES as my eyes got a little cloudy.

I love my blog because it’s a place for me to speak my piece and no one can tell me to shut up. Or, they can try - and believe me, they definitely have tried - but I can ban them and let them go whine about their “free speech” rights somewhere else. Because this is my space. This is where I get to say the things that matter to me, to speak the truth of my experiences, to talk about the things that are important to me and the only potential censor in place is my own self-imposed feelings of limitation. And, ya know, this is the space where I try to work through those limitations, too!

But even with all that happy touchy-feely stuff, there also comes the reality that if my little corner of the internet is a place for me to speak my truth and not be silenced, then the internet also has spaces where hateful people can do the same sort of mocking and demeaning that they’ve done for almost too long for me to remember - and I’m not sure whether it hurts more “in real life” or online, but it still HURTS, I know that much.

Let me try to tell you how it feels to pour your heart and soul into something you believe in, to try to explain yourself, defend yourself against vicious attacks, work for a better world, be the change you seek, all that stuff… and have someone just laugh in your face. -Actually, I don’t have to tell you; the commenter I quoted above already did.

What a lot of people don’t understand when they talk about “defending yourself” against bullies is, that only works if the bully takes your defense seriously. Back in middle school? I couldn’t defend myself - because I tried at first, but then I stopped, because I learned that me trying to defend myself was more cause for laughter and mockery. There was no way for me to win. So I might as well just shut up and take it.

Last night, I was in the XXBN chat room while listening to Gracie and Callie on the radio show (everyone should listen to the podcast of it, btw; it was a great show). Gracie was talking about identity online and choosing how much to reveal or hide, and she said something like, “I think Amber and I both get kind of sad or angry about this.” And then Nobilis, who was in the chat room too, said: “Amber? Angry? Naaaaah…” and then put in a smiley emoticon.

Argh!!! :(

I don’t want to be typecast as “the angry woman” - it feels icky and exploitative and demeaning. It makes me feel small. It shoves me into an uncomfortably familiar box. And - not that I should even have to say this (but the other shitty thing is that it puts me in the position of having to say “no I’m not!”) - I don’t think I’m all that angry. I don’t even know what that would mean or look like. I don’t understand it as an accusation. And yet, there are people who perceive me that way - and they’re always men. So why is that? (Don’t answer, it’s a rhetorical question.)

I said as much to Nobilis in the chatroom last night. Even though it felt uncomfortable and scary (see above quote re: confrontation), I called him out and told him that was not okay, and explained why (basically what I wrote in the last paragraph).

He said nothing.

This is a pattern, too. I share how I feel, open my veins, put myself out there even when I shouldn’t have to, because I’ve been put in the position of having to by others; and the response, even sometimes from people I love and who love me… is silence.

And that, I truly don’t understand.

And, too? Is anger not at times a valid and justified emotion/reaction? I certainly agree with the sentiment that anger should not itself be an end but should be a means to something constructive. But how exactly does it help for anyone to deny being angry, ever? Sometimes people have a right to be angry. Sometimes there are situations where if someone wasn’t angry, you’d really wonder what was up!

Of course, it’s no surprise the way this gets leveled at women in particular; we’ve been socialized to be “nice” and take care of other people’s feelings, often at the expense of our own. Nice girls don’t get angry. It’s just not done. I can’t tell you how many times I was chastised by my mother with two simple words and a stare that told me not to talk back: “Be nice.”

I get angry, sure. Unfortunately I tend to turn my anger inward, and it becomes destructive to me. And, moreso than being angry in that fired-up, righteous, in-your-face way (see again: confrontation), what my anger actually manifests itself as, most of the time, is sadness. A heavy, all-encompassing sadness where I just don’t know what to do. Add to this a history of clinical depression and it’s not exactly fun times ahead.

But seriously, what can I do, in the face of things like this? I avoid reading such blogs - I keep myself out of such situations - as much as possible, because of the toxicity. (Again, there’s the word that always fits: toxic.) I’m always wary of it reaching the point of becoming willful denial of reality - although, I think, the very fact that I worry about this means that I won’t ever have that problem. Hell, why even equivocate at all: I know myself well enough to know that that will never be a problem of mine.

And yet.

I hear terms like “echo chamber” and they sting, sometimes - because it seems that they are often misapplied.

What’s the good in shouting at a brick wall? It’s better, I think, to say what needs to be said in a place where those words won’t be stifled, and people can choose to listen or not. Maybe slowly but surely people will start to consider things that they previously had written off. I know it’s possible. It doesn’t happen in droves, but I truly do believe this type of micro-activism (to borrow a term from Renee) is important.

Yet I can’t keep having the same conversations over and over again. Saying the same things, to people who suddenly close their ears. The “Don’t Be That Guy” panel at Balticon was extremely difficult for me for this reason - even though I also felt heartened and hopeful about it because I saw two people in the audience have ‘click’ moments; I saw their eyes light up, their heads cock to the side as they considered something new.

And anyway, I can’t always keep myself out of these situations, because it infuses progressive circles as well. The casual sexism, comments about “oh lord what is she wearing,” and somehow it’s okay if it’s a woman we don’t like; the casual racism, Photoshopped images of politicians in blackface and we’re all supposed to understand it’s “satire;” the jokes about trannies and hookers; the R-word, everywhere. The people who think they get a pass because we both happen to oppose the war in Iraq.

I can’t call it out every time. It’s too exhausting.

Well, I’ll write more later; I feel depleted at the moment. For now I’ll close with Tori:

ETA: Now the title doesn’t make sense, because I changed my mind and got rid of the bullets.

Part of why I’m on the fence about BlogHer Atlanta? Well, aside from the $100 entry fee (which is totally fine of them to charge; I am NOT being one of those people who complains about anything that’s not totally free at the expense of someone else’s hard work), there’s also the fact that I’m just over a lot of these conferences.

Rusty and I talked about why on a podcast a while ago. They’ve become commercialized, but that’s not even the word. Cartoonized, maybe? Firefox spellcheck doesn’t know that word (but then it doesn’t know “spellcheck” either) but I think it’s the most apt. If I hear the word “conversation” again I may puke.

And I’m really not trying to be one of those too-cool-for-school assholes who blogs about why blogging sucks, or that kind of thing. I HATE that!

But look, here’s the truth. In addition to the cartoony, sales-pitchy bullshit, I don’t feel welcome at these conferences. With rare exception, I never really have - it just took me a while to admit it to myself, I guess. The BlogSavannah experience was a breakthrough, of course, but there have been so many other instances that I’ve lost count.

When you talk about sex, and you’re a woman, and you’re a tech geek, and you (gasp!) also talk about things other than sex (because OMG, people who aren’t ashamed about sex do other things in their lives, too)… well, let’s just say it doesn’t add up to a good combination, with a lot of people. There are some awesome people, sure. But they don’t tend to be the majority at these conferences. Which is one reason I created Sex 2.0 - to bring all those people together and none (or, well, very few) of the sucky ones!

Sometimes I wonder how much of me not feeling welcome is an accurate perception of reality, and how much is self-induced. Then I remember how good I am at reading people and situations, and that my intuition is almost always spot on, and that I always doubt it anyway, because somehow that seems like the proper thing to do (surely we must consider all angles, surely!) and heaven forfend, I would appear “selfish” if I didn’t.

I remember the guy guffawing at BarCamp Atlanta about Sex 2.0. I remember the stupid, predictable, un-funny, adolescent-level jokes. BarCamp Atlanta pretty much sucked all around, but that’s the stuff that stands out the most in my memory. Oh, and the hooker jokes. Those fucking guys joking about going down to 11th street and finding the hookers.

Here’s a secret. When you make a hooker joke - whoever you are - I hate you, right then and there. Even if generally, rationally, I know that most of the time you’re a “good person” - whatever that even means. When you do that, I hate you, and my eyes want to seer through you.

Oh and back to being a woman who talks about sex (bullet point above). Sometimes people seem incredulous that it’s still such a “big deal.” I want to ask where the fuck they’ve been, anyway. Last week, at Manuel’s, I overheard that conversation at the table behind us, carried on by supposed friends-of-friends. I didn’t know these people, but it didn’t matter. I’ve heard a million conversations like it before. Quote: “She was really weird, she talked about sex all the time.” Quote: “Yeah, I mean she was a total weirdo… she said if we went to this party, we’d be expected to have sex in front of people!” Just shove a dagger through my chest already. We’re back to square one.

Well, I should probably wrap it up and try to get some sleep. I feel very restless, but we’re going to Radial for breakfast, so I need to get my butt to bed.

One last thing - I feel the need to say here, too, that Elisa Camahort is awesome and I’m not trying to trash BlogHer or anything like that. I had so much fun hanging out with her at ConvergeSouth - she is just a nice, cool, down-to-earth person. And look at the super cool slide she made!

I’ve told it all to Rusty. I’ve told a good chunk of it to Jenny via IM, and hopefully made some sense amid the typos and inevitable disjointedness of IMing while at work. I’ve scrawled some of it in my real journal (that is, until my hand started hurting like hell; I can hardly believe I used to write 20+ page letters to friends, back before any of us had email).

The original placeholder title of this post was “In the VA on July 4th.” As I said on Twitter, the irony was most certainly not lost on me that my dad was in the VA Hospital on July 4th, with much of the place closed down and only a skeleton crew working, and the asshole intern who looked like he just walked off the set of Grey’s Anatomy (but not in a good way) saying they can’t do anything because of the holiday weekend. There were signs everywhere that said, “Our Mission: To Do Everything We Can For Veterans,” and patriotic decorations of the sort you find in elementary schools, with bubbly cut-out American-flag-patterned letters stapled to those big sheets of paper that come on rolls, spelling out, “We Love Our Veterans!”

That is some terrible irony. I guess the only way it could be worse is if it had been Memorial Day weekend.

“Support our troops” means put a fucking yellow ribbon magnet on the back of your SUV (yes, it’s so cliché to even say it at this point, we’ve all heard it before), not actually providing care and coverage to the infirm. Oh right my dad gets a piddly $200 a month benefit from the government for being exposed to Agent Orange in Vietnam; “oops, our bad for exposing you to a potentially deadly chemical; here’s two hundred bucks!”

And leaving the infuriating irony aside, this whole situation has brought out into the light (yet again) the stark, ugly reality of the divide between the haves and the have-nots. We can spend billions of dollars on a wall between the US and Mexico but somehow we can’t figure out how to provide comprehensive health coverage for every citizen. I mean thank goodness for small favors; at least he’s actually registered at the VA at this point (unlike when he had a stroke in 2006, and was treated like a second-class citizen by the staff at Doctors Hospital [coincidentally, also the hospital where I was born], since he didn’t have insurance). He has Medicare Part Whatever - I can’t keep track of all the letters and what they mean. I worked on a program for it back when it first came out in 2005, and I remember thinking, holy shit, if I can’t make hide nor hair of this nonsense then how the hell is someone who’s elderly and unwell going to navigate this fucking labyrinth of bureaucracy? Oh but at least the web site had large type!

Anyway Medicare Part XYZobtwFU will pay for a nursing home - but only for 90 days. Someone explain that rationale to me! Who goes into a nursing home and then, after 90 days, is suddenly fit and well and ready to go golfing!? Or do they just expect you’ll die before the 90 days is up? If not, go ahead and start spending your retirement savings - oh wait, that’s assuming you have any retirement savings. There’s that nasty divide again.

And yet knowing all this, my mom still votes Republican. It baffles.

I don’t know. There’s more I want to say. I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. And there’s this side of me that’s infuriating even myself, where I start to feel selfish (that word again!) for even mentioning this to anyone, like they’re going to think I’m trying to say I’m the only person who’s ever dealt with a family crisis. Now realistically, who would think that? No one. But that’s my mind for you.

I guess one of the good things about going to Augusta this weekend is that I won’t have to see that stupid psychiatrist on Saturday. I really do not like her, but for now she’s the one prescribing my meds. I don’t feel that I’ve been benefiting from talk therapy lately, but that’s another story for another time.

And I have another post about my dad and such in the works which will come out eventually, but it’ll need to be password-protected. And who knows when I’ll get around to writing it.

Oh and also? Preemptively… please, no comments on this post telling me what I should do or who I should call or what I should look into. Unless you know something 100% definitive and can do the work for me? Well, I appreciate that you might mean well and want to help, but no thanks.

This post has been in draft mode for at least a month now. I always thought I’d flesh it out into something less stream-of-consciousness/”bad emo poetry.” Then I went and wrote a long-ass comment on Apostate’s blog, and it reminded me of this as-yet-unfinished post. So, first I’ll give you the initial free-writing version that I fantasized about turning into a coherent narrative, but never did:

—

There’s always part of me that’s bugged about the fact that I never tried sex work
(I know the past tense makes it sound like it’s not a possibility in the future…)

But when I think about it, I wouldn’t make a good escort - I’m too introverted and socially awkward. Good escorts have to have the skill of putting people at ease. If anything, I tend to make people nervous. Or in my attempt to put them at ease I’d make *myself* nervous.
I hate small talk, and I suck at it

I do love sex, though

Stripping - same thing - I’m an exhibitionist, so that aspect (along w/ the money, duh) always appealed to me. And now I can pole dance something fierce. It’s the lapdances that would bug me. The “hustling.” It’s an awful lot like cold calling - something that absolutely petrifies me.

So what would I realistically like to do?
I want to have beautiful, creative photos taken of me

I thought of running my own porn site but the maintenance, up-keep, and trying to always come up w/ new creative content seemed too daunting

PSO? Hell no… I hate talking on the phone!

I think maybe I’d like porn the best

But in some way I feel like a fraud for never doing any type of sex work

—

(Does this fact of my life make me a shitty/creepy ally? I wonder that, sometimes. I know I’m probably just being paranoid and over-thinking things, as I’m wont to do.)

And here’s the comment I left on Apostate’s:

For going on ten years now I’ve wanted to try some form of sex work, but so far have been too chicken to actually go through with it. I absolutely LOVE pole dancing, so now the original things that made me afraid to try stripping - not being able to dance, not being able to walk in heels - aren’t issues anymore, but I realized there are other, more basic issues such as 1) strip clubs are usually smoky, and cigarette smoke REALLY bothers me; 2) I hate approaching people or being “outgoing,” and that’s what you have to do to get lap dances; 3) speaking of lap dances, they would annoy me for the same reason waiting tables annoys me: the asshole customers.

i think I would be good at having sex for money, but it would have to be JUST that. I don’t have the time, patience, or poker face* to keep up the pretense of “escorting” - basically, I have no desire (and no ability, really) to pretend like I give a shit about some guy or want to be his arm candy, let’s just get down to business and give me the money, no GFE bullshit. I also couldn’t do the full body sensual massage thing because that would be hell on my muscles, and again, let’s just get down to business already.

After much thought and consideration I think porn is where I could be the most successful and get the most enjoyment out of it. But so far I’ve been too lazy to actively pursue anything. (It doesn’t hurt that I also happen to love my current job, so it’s not like I have a strong motivation.)

* Borrowed that terminology from Dacia. It’s apt.

Most of the activism I am really passionate about is related to sexuality. That’s because I am simply unable to divorce sexuality from the rest of my being; it’s such a fundamental part of who I am, that I can’t imagine just taking it on and off like a jacket. I’m not good at compartmentalizing, and I don’t think it should be a requirement for social justice activism. “Yes, work for social justice - as long as you keep this part of you that kind of makes us uncomfortable out of it.”

I can’t do that. To be human is to be sexual; even people who identify as asexual are claiming an identity regarding their sexuality. One of the quotes in my header quote rotation is from Kochanie, and it sums up my feeling on the matter: “I am sex, I am my body, and my sex, my mind and my body have never been separate.”

There’s been a lot of talk here lately about sex work, and I know some people are wondering why I am so passionate about sex workers’ rights activism, in particular. I’ll list a few reasons:*
Read the full post »

Dacia’s year-end wrap-up article for Eden Fantasys, Ten Hot Sexuality (And Gender) Issues of 2007, is a seriously awesome piece of writing that everyone should read. It includes a quote from me about pole dancing, but since she had to cover a lot of stuff in the article, obviously she couldn’t put in everything I said. Here are my full answers to all the questions she asked me; I’m posting them because I feel like I actually sounded smart and stuff.

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What initially drew you to pole dancing?

One day in June of 2006 I was sitting around my apartment, and I have no idea what made this thought come into my head, but suddenly I thought, “Hmm, I wonder if there are any pole dancing classes in Atlanta?” So I Googled it and found out that yes, there were!

But really, it wasn’t something that was completely out of the blue. Ever since I was in college, I had been toying with the idea of working as a stripper. I always found some way to talk myself out of it - the two biggies being that I couldn’t dance and couldn’t walk in heels. While those two things were true, they could have been overcome; the deeper truth was that I was afraid everyone would laugh at me. When I made the decision to start pole dancing classes, I was choosing, finally, to confront those deep-seated fears.

On less of a “self-help and personal growth” note, I’ve always hated working out and I’ve never stepped foot in a gym, so I figured it would be a fun way to get in shape.

Do you see pole dancing as a sexual thing? why/why not?

Yes and no. For me, there is a sexual component, but the whole of the activity is not sexual. What’s most important to me about pole dancing is that through it, I’ve been able to confront some very old fears about performance, athletic ability, and the possibility of being humiliated. My pole dancing classes are not the same as 8th grade gym class - and that’s something I needed to experience. In the same vein, pole dancing has been very empowering for me because it’s the first athletic activity I’ve ever excelled at. It feels very rewarding to see myself improve over time, to be in control of my body and feel myself grow physically stronger.

I want to be very clear, though, that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pole dancing as an overtly sexual activity. I don’t like when people feel like they have to come up with some other explanation because the sexual is perceived as “base” or not good enough.

Why do you think people have been getting so bent out of shape about women who are not strippers and don’t intend to become strippers learning and enjoying pole dancing?

It seems like some people just have a mental block against considering the possibility that pole dancing can be anything but objectification of women in the context of a seedy, dangerous strip club. (Note: I do not think this description is accurate for all strip clubs!) It’s as if they’ve bought into a stereotype and refuse to consider any other options. I’m a feminist, so it’s most annoying to me when this behavior comes from other feminists. By sticking to such a rigid perception of what pole dancing means, they’re not doing anything to challenge the dominant cultural messages about it.

If anything, the type of complaint I’d expect to hear would be strippers getting angry at what they might perceive as co-opting, but I haven’t witnessed that happening.

Often, more than I let on, in fact, I get this feeling like I’m an impostor or something. Like I don’t quite “fit” in a certain space, and it can manifest as a feeling of others not wanting me there, or as me feeling as if they wouldn’t want me there if they knew certain things about me or heard certain things I would like to say.

This feeling has been a recurring theme throughout my life but I’ve been noticing it cropping up a lot lately.

It’s funny how the perception of a person can be totally different depending on who they’re around. Freshman year of college, I was considered the “bold” and “daring” one among my suitemates. Sophomore year of college, suddenly I was the “quiet” and “buttoned-up” one among my new set of suitemates. Same me, but I fell into a different place on the spectrum based on who I was around.

Being an occasional activist and/or cheerleader for a variety of things has brought this perception-based-on-context phenomenon into sharp focus lately. I can be with one group of activists (side note: I really don’t like the word “activist,” but I can’t think of a better one) and feel like I’m the boring representation of the status quo because I’m not a queer socialist vegan Thelemite POC in a polyamorous BDSM relationship working at a down-on-its-luck NGO. The next day I can be with another group and feel like the outlier because I’m a woman, a feminist, a tech nerd, open about sexuality, relatively kinky in relation to the group of the moment, quick to use the P word (”privilege”) when I feel it’s not being considered, and I don’t feel the need to make disparaging remarks about the queer socialist vegan Thelemite POC.

A few recent examples…
Read the full post »

Thanks, Ren. :)

You have inspired me to post more photos. Earlier I was vacillating, thinking, “Oh, but how will it look. It’ll look like I’m too self-centered.” Then I realized, yet again: this is my blog, of course it’s self-centered. That’s the whole point.

So, a few more photos from Level 4 graduation:

Did I mention Level 5 starts tomorrow?

On a different note, here’s a photo from my now-defunct (well, defunct before it ever was anything else) Project ISM folio.

I know, intellectually anyway, that it was nothing personal that made them ask for pick-up shots… it was the lighting, the blurriness, etc… but all the rejection was starting to get to me. I liked my shots very much, just as they were. I guess it’s just confirmation that need to do this on my terms.

Okay. It’s been a busy day, and I need to get to bed. I’ve been productive today in many ways, but I feel like there’s also a lot of stuff that’s still unresolved. I’m nervous about Sex 2.0 again… I guess I just need to take baby steps.

Cross-posted from a comment I left at Ren’s blog. The blockquoted part is some very-pleased-with-herself LiveJournaler talking about me, in reference to something I said after breaking my own rule and commenting on the latest Feministe porn thread/debacle.

—

Oh, and didn’t you love that one interjection by the girl who just CAN’T IMAGINE why anyone would think that ATM is a bit off color?

Okay dumbfucks, it’s on.

I would love for somebody show to me where I said I can’t imagine why anyone would think ATM is a bit off color. (Although, the phrase “off color” sounds a little too “this offends the delicate sensibilities of the high society ladies” for me.) I do not appreciate having words put in my mouth. (You can form your own pun or metaphor here.)

What I said was, could we PLEASE stop with the judging of other people’s sexual activities, if those activities are among consenting adults. WHY IS THIS A DIFFICULT CONCEPT? Why is this controversial? You know what, nobody has to like ATM, I really don’t care, to be quite honest. What I do care about is when people start with that same old drivel about, “Oh, how could anyone like THAT, that is just so DISGUSTING, if you like that there must be something wrong with you!!” And with ATM in particular, people have a goddamn conniption fit about “OMG POOOOOO!!!11!!1″ In which case, I think calming the fuck down and getting a little education about the way the body’s plumbing actually works (assuming one does not have a medical condition that would make things different) would be a good idea. We don’t have much in the way of sex ed in this country, nor much in the way of education about our own bodies; and all of that goes double when it’s something (gasp!) “off color.”

I’m sorry, but I got over poop jokes when I was about 13. Not sure about the rest of y’all.

—

*simmers*

I will have more to say on this topic later.

Fri. 1:30 p.m. - Privacy, Exposure, and Risk: Can you maintain safer spaces online?

Lunch was great, and now we are back up on the 2nd floor, getting ready for the session with Susie Bright, Ann Crady, and Tara Hunt. Speaking of which, Susie Bright came up to our table at lunch to get Rachel because they were doing a book signing together. Viviane got up and hugged her. Then she turned to me and asked my name, and I stuck out my hand and said, “I’m Amber,” and she was all, “Oh! Amber!” Seriously, y’all. She recognized me from my blog, and when I kind of breathlessly asked, “You read my blog?” she acted like it was obvious and I should stop being so modest. (!!!!) Total fan-girl moment. I felt flustered after that, but not in a bad way. So anyway, that was awesome. And Susie seems like a total sweetheart. She’s up there now wearing a tiara.

Session is starting now. Lynne D. Johnson is the moderator.

My camera battery is almost dead, but it’s just as well, because from my vantage point, all my photos are going to have a bright-red-haired woman’s head smack in the middle.

Each panelist now is going to say how much they are “exposed” online.

Tara says pretty much her whole life is online and she’s not very worried about potential risks. She says she’s had benefits from putting herself out there, including career benefits because people feel that they know her better or trust her more. She says she trusts human nature and believes people are mostly good and that might be part of why she doesn’t obsess about all the bad things that could happen.

Ann says for her the benefits far outweigh the potential risks and she thinks the dangers are far over-blown.

Susie Bright hates the mics and doesn’t want to use one. But she has to because they’re streaming live in Second Life.

Someone said the feedback was “unbearable.” I just Twittered that it’s not unbearable. Ha.

Anyway, moving on, Susie Bright is talking now about some of her history in political activism. She says being out there is one of the best protections, because as a general rule, people will protect you if they know who you are. Being “out there” is a good defense; it makes it much harder for people to twist your words or blackmail you.

What does “safe” mean, Susie asks. She’s questioning the terminology and trying to define “safe.”

She says if you are a journalist and say something controversial, you will get flak. She said she kind of wants to shake people’s hands when they say they’ve been threatened on their blog, because it means they are making a difference.

She says sometimes saying someone is making you unsafe is just a way of trying to shut them up. And it’s difficult to speak out about without sounding cruel or callous.

Question from the moderator: are women more likely to get threatened online? Tara is talking about a Pew study that shows girls and women are more likely to experience bullying or threats.

Audience member asks how each of the panelists define cyber-bullying. Susie Bright says, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me - or will they?” This is what women experience online that men do not or do only rarely. But she also says women are being encouraged to stay offline because of this fear, and it’s like saying you shouldn’t go out at night. It’s the problem of the bullies, not the women. She says, “Most of these bullies are full of it.”

Audience member brought up Kathy Sierra and couldn’t remember her name. Everyone in the room said, “Kathy Sierra.” If this woman tries to minimalize what happened to Kathy Sierra I’m going to feel like punching her (the audience member, not Kathy Sierra). And yes I am fully aware of the irony there!

People are fucking assholes and it can be a tough spot. I totally agree with Susie that this stuff should not silence women’s voices or prevent us from going online, because it is not OUR problem. Just like rape is not our problem, it’s the rapists’ problem. But on the other hand this stuff REALLY HURTS and more than hurts, it can be downright terrifying, and I really don’t think men understand the way women experience this stuff, as part of the larger culture. Which is why I turn off my ears when men start yapping about “growing a spine” or some shit. Just shut the fuck up, asshole. But anyway, how do we deal with this? I can’t blame Kathy Sierra for what she did. I might have done the same. That shit can be overwhelming. And yet… I feel it is vitally important for women NOT to shut up. ESPECIALLY if it’s controversial and makes people uncomfortable and shakes things up.

Audience member asks where is the line between developing a thicker skin and dealing with active threats that could be damaging to you physically, financially, etc.?
The eternal question.

Ann says, “the line is the law.” Not sure if I agree or not. Will need to think on that some more.

Audience members should use the mic because it’s in Second Life. Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t know a thing about Second Life and I don’t care.

Susie Bright says, when you get a whiff of a troll, block them immediately so you’re not inundated with their bullshit. They thrive on attention.

Susie says a woman was waiting for her in the bathroom with a knife when she spoke at the University of Minnesota one time (not sure when this was). She mentions how absurd it was. (She went with another person to the bathroom, too, btw.) She says she does not regret her activism and she will not stop. Hell yeah!

Good damn question that I wonder about a lot: what are the kids of the “mommy bloggers” going to think when they get old enough to read the blogs? I wonder about that. At a certain point (certain age?) it seems kind of like… exploitation? That’s a loaded word but I can’t think of another one. It’s a tough call. Maybe it’s just the same question as blogging about other people in your life in general.

Statistically your child has a much greater chance of being molested in the grocery store or in church than on MySpace. The media blows it out of proportion.

“Everyone in Second Life… fuck, fuck fuck!!”

Tara is talking about Molly Holszchlag (can never spell it). I love what she does on her blog because she talks about her depression and other stuff right there on the same blog as web standards and Microsoft and stuff. Molly rocks.

“It’s a sign of strength to say, ‘I’m going to say what I want, fuck you.’” - Tara

Susie is talking about the inherent sexism in the fear we feel as women about speaking up. Men are not critiqued for who they go to bed with… this is Women’s Studies 101, she says.

Audience member says handling professional criticism is a walk in the park after dealing with so many trolls. Silver lining!

Here comes the appeal to “what about the children.” I don’t buy it anymore, hardly at all.

Dude is talking about making sure you are comfortable with anyone seeing what you put online. For some reason he is really putting me off because I feel like everyone here knows that already. Thanks for words of wisdom.

Now Susie Bright is saying she believes a lot of the malicious behavior online is motivated by jealousy, and she doesn’t know how to handle that. Ann disagrees and thinks it’s mostly boredom. I think there’s probably some of both, but I can’t really attribute a whole lot of it to just boredom.

Okay this audience member has been talking too long. There’s a line of people behind her waiting to talk. I think the lilt of her voice makes me not absorb anything she’s saying. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Audience member is breastfeeding and unlike at most conferences, no one is going to give her shit about it.

Analee Newitz is speaking up from the audience now. Personal blogging “can bite people in the ass.” She’s talking about how some of us are lucky in that we have lots of options for employment and such, but a lot of people don’t have those options and can’t say, “fuck you, I’ll work somewhere else.” I’m glad someone pointed that out. Because yes, even though this is a problem with the company, the effect is on the particular woman’s life. Ideology is nice and all, but being able to feed your family is nicer.

Now an audience member says she never intended to be a public figure, but after starting her blog, a few months later she was on the front page of the New York Times business section. She said we need to realize that it’s a risk and an opportunity that any one of us could become a public figure overnight. I definitely agree that we have to be aware of that, but I don’t think that should make people stifle or self-censor. Real people have real lives and do real things. Imagine that!

Now a woman who runs a blog called I, Asshole is talking. She is awesome. She talks about how she edits her trollish comments and adds to the end, “Now I must go home and fuck some puppies.”

Susie Bright adds some levity. Yes, we’re all talking about how important it is to stand up and have a thick skin, but it really does hurt when you feel like you’ve been passed over because of something you wrote, or because people might be laughing at you, or whatever. Pink Ghetto, anyone?

Tara says, “We all have inner Gollums.” Let’s stop putting up these facades that say we’re perfect. The world says we’re not allowed to talk about these things, but we all feel this way at some point.

Session is almost over. I’m going to try to get my picture taken with Susie Bright.

Fri. 10:45 a.m. - Digital Exhibitionists or Chroniclers of their Time: Will Naked Bloggers Make History?

“There are a lot of things happening in our lives that we feel like we have to hide.” - Stacy Campbell

“I do all the stupid stuff everybody else did, but I write about it.” - Heather Barmore

First question for the panel: How honest can and should you be? What will be missing 100 years from now?

Kris was angry with herself for holding back and not being honest at the time in blogging about a relationship that later ended

“Keeping it honest has become more difficult as the readership grows.” - Stacy
This is the classic blogger conundrum. We all struggle with this. And yet it is never less of a struggle. And there isn’t one right answer.

So far everyone on the panel has been self-deprecating and saying no one will be reading their blog in 100 years. But the whole point is, people will! This stuff that might seem mundane or even whiny now is important. Chronicling real life (everyone’s unique experience) is hugely important. I’m reminded of what Josh was saying at BlogSavannah about finding letters written to family members during the Civil War, and how in many ways that offers us the most insight. (Still, though, a blog is different in some ways… but that’s another tangent. Knowing that there’s an audience - even a tiny one, or a potential one - does change things.)

AAG says she went online to be more private… LOL. She says she is still at times afraid of being judged. I can relate.

Somebody in the audience just said she threw away all her old diaries! Aaaaaagggghhh!!! Nooo!! Sacrilege! I cannot imagine throwing away something that personal and unique… even if you do regret things you wrote, or not want certain people to see it.

Audience member makes a good point about the power of women writing blogs is that we are in control of representing our own lives, rather than leaving it up to someone else to reconstruct the story of your life and maybe get things wrong or add their own judgment.

Next question for the panel: What makes you most uncomfortable? Family and friends reading it? Co-workers? Something else?

Heather almost got kicked out of her apartment because of something she wrote. (!!!)

I realize I am very, very lucky in the approach I take to blogging nowadays. I didn’t always take this approach - because I couldn’t (e.g. when I was looking for a job when I lived in Texas; a bunch of stuff w/ my marriage; etc). And to some people who don’t know me very well, they might think it looks very cavalier… but it’s not. It’s very much intentional and I am determined to be as open and honest as possible. Of course, “as possible” is the caveat there, and the definition is always changing.

Sarcastic Journalist is talking about how she got fired for her blog. She was a reporter and she was anonymous and she still got fired - just like Dooce. A few of her family members disowned her too. Anonymity is NOT the protection you might think it is. Don’t be naive. You’re never really anonymous.

I think that’s the biggest - HUGEST - difference between blogs and personal diaries. Even though, yes, people can and do find and read other people’s personal diaries, the whole world can’t find your personal diary on Google. It’s less of a risk. Certainly can be more of a liability if people find it bc you’re being more personal and not holding back, but that is valuable; but I don’t think blogs will ever be exactly the same.

Someone in the audience is talking about how she went to a conference and found herself apologetically telling people she “writes JUST a personal blog.” Right on!! I HATE that shit! I hate that perception of personal blogs (whatever that even means; I have a beef with that term, too, but I can write about that later) as somehow “less than” other types of blogs such as political blogs.

I think we should have a session at Sex 2.0 that’s like this except focused on writing about sexuality and your personal sex life and all that good stuff. (Btw I am having some… I don’t know… burned-out? feelings about Sex 2.0. But I’ll get to that another time.) I kind of hoped this would be more sexuality-focused, but then, the general personal stuff topic is fascinating and important, and sexuality is a part of that.

Audience member says, “Our personal honesty on our blogs is politically important.” I agree. The personal is political, indeed.

Someone else is speaking now who developed a plug-in for WordPress called Post Levels, which lets you control who sees certain posts. I may have to look into this.

Culture Kitchen woman is talking now. I don’t know her name but I know her blog! (I’m surrounded by the bloggerati, hell yeah.) She says, “As my blog kept rising and getting more and more readers, it started having less and less personal stuff. The blog started to have a life of its own.”

Now the conversation is turning to talking about how personal blogs are breaking stereotypes in very powerful ways. Someone asked Culture Kitchen woman “how dare you be one of the top Latina bloggers in the country and say you’re an atheist.” Heather talks about how people assumed she was white, and when they found out she was black they’d say, “You speak so eloquently” and shit. Stacy says not everyone who struggles with depression is completely batshit. AAG talks about how powerful it is that she can be not young and not thin and still be having great sex and letting everyone know about it.

ROCK ON!

Moderator says none of these personal records are complete (she’s a historian who deals w/ a lot of personal journals, letter, etc.). This self-censoring is not unique to blogging and we should not get too hung up on it, as in worrying about whether or not it’s “real.”

Another audience member is talking about how people say they didn’t realize she was a POC. She gets called “exotic.” She says, “Guess what, if you’re going to keep calling me ‘exotic,’ I’m going to keep talking about race!” Heather says she doesn’t talk about being black all the time because (gesturing toward Kris) “do you talk about being white all the time?”

AAG says it’s not courageous for her to write about sexual abuse. This is something someone did to her, it’s a reflection on the person who did it to her, not a reflection on what kind of person she is. She encourages everyone in the audience to write about it if it happened to you. Stacy says, “If it makes somebody uncomfortable, then maybe you need to write about it even more urgently.” I am mentally high-fiving her now.

Now a dude is talking about how he feels like people at some parenting blogs think he doesn’t have a right to talk about parenting. He says even though he gets a lot of crap, it’s worth it because he’s breaking the stereotype and showing that there are men who care actively about being parents.

Another audience member is now saying she feels like her blog has brought her closer to her family. This is interesting.

Another woman is talking about how her friends pressure her to write about certain things. Like, “Why didn’t you write about my engagement.” Heh. Start your own blog!

Session is almost over… I think there’s supposed to be some kind of prize drawing. AAG brought some amazing schwag, including dildos.

A commenter at Feministe said:

As a parent of 2 girls, I’m hoping that I can encourage them to feel empowered by being smart, skilled, happy, powerful, knowledgeable, athletic, etc. Getting positive sexual attention seems pleasant enough, but also seems ’second class.’ Mostly because it relies on ANOTHER person’s judgment, and not on your own internal power.

*sigh*

Where to begin?

As Jenny put it a few weeks ago: “You’re a woman. You may have your intelligence or your sexuality. You may not have both.”

This, of course, is nothing new at all. In fact, it’s so not new that part of me wonders if I should even bother blogging about it. But it never fails to throw me for a loop when self-identified progressives spout the same reductive, dichotomous crap as the status quo conservatives they claim to oppose.

And you know, I bet the father who made the above statement has the best of intentions. Of course he does! He wants his daughters to be valued for more than their looks or their sex appeal; he wants them to be valued as whole people, who have minds and hearts as well as bodies.

And yet, somehow, in the earnestness to ensure that women and girls are valued intellectually and not just physically, the physical gets left behind.

-Well, actually, scratch that; the sexual gets left behind. Because if you’ll notice, in the above quote, the commenter included athletic ability among the list of skills for which he would like his daughters to be admired.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be valued as a whole person; I don’t think any reasonable person would argue otherwise. But the thing is, people have bodies. People have sexuality. So, part of being a whole person is valuing those aspects of oneself as well as the mental, emotional, and spiritual. It’s not an either/or game. Compartmentalization of a major part of oneself is in no way holistic.

As a child, these are the lessons I learned: It’s more important to be valued for your mind. The mental is superior to the physical.

And in a lot of ways, that was a good lesson. I have always enjoyed a rich inner life, and have excelled intellectually. I wouldn’t trade either of those things. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to grow up basing my entire worth on my physical appearance or physical abilities. But, at times, I feel like I went too far in the opposite direction. I was out of touch with my body. I felt guilty about my strong sexual desires, because those were “second class,” to use a phrase from above. Smart girls use their minds. Smart girls have more important things with which to concern themselves. Smart girls don’t. We know this to be true.

Except, smart girls do. And I realized that denying this very strong, powerful, essential part of myself in the name of being “smart” was not very smart at all.

My other beef with the above quote is this part in particular: “Getting positive sexual attention seems pleasant enough, but also seems ’second class.’ Mostly because it relies on ANOTHER person’s judgment, and not on your own internal power.”

Let’s leave aside the “second class” business for now, the connotations of which could make for a whole other post.

What bugs me about this is the language, which was probably used without any specific thought given to it: “Getting positive sexual attention.” Certainly, there is nothing wrong with getting positive sexual attention if that’s what you want. However, using that language as the assumed default here once again casts women as passive recipients. Women are portrayed as being desired; but what about desiring? What about acting? What about seeking, learning, growing, self-actualizing, and all that other hippy-dippy stuff? Owning one’s sexuality (”my body belongs to me”) absolutely does rely on one’s “internal power.” It can even be a source of that power. When women take full, unapologetic ownership of our sexuality, we are reclaiming it from the tired old rule of women’s sexuality being defined by others.

So, while I 100% support women feeling empowered by being smart, skilled, happy, powerful, knowledgeable, and athletic, I equally support women feeling empowered by being sexual and by not denying the body. I support women feeling empowered by all these things, because none of them are mutually exclusive.

Something’s got my dander up today, I guess, even though it’s been a good, relaxing day thus far, and we’re going to the Summer of Love film series tonight, and then back to the sex club…

But when I read a comment at Feministing where someone said, “boo-hiss pole dance ‘feminists’”, I almost started crying.

I’ve always had this thing where I cry at inopportune times, or at things a lot of people wouldn’t think of as cry-worthy.

But I just got done hashing it all out the other day, and I just… I wish wish wish I could make people understand where I’m coming from on this. But I know I can’t.

On a happier note, Rusty is going to call Platinum Stages Monday and make sure we’ve followed all the proper installation steps for my pole. Then, everything should finally be good to go, and I can use it. Safety first ‘n’ all.

This makes me really angry.

They are making fun of Johnna Mink, making fun of feminism, making fun of pole dancing, and making fun of the crazy idea that maybe, JUST MAYBE, the whole smart/sexy dichotomy is stupid. In 3½ minutes, that video manages to reinforce practically every negative stereotype about pole dancing, women who pole dance, feminists, and more. Overall it’s damn misogynistic.

And yeah, I know, the Colbert Report is all satire. THAT’S WHY WE LOVE IT. But this? This is not making fun of the stereotypes.

This is making fun of women who pole dance, and laughing at the idea of it as something (god forbid) empowering. Same old, same old. The mock-news-segment is called “Difference Makers” - you know, women who matter, women who are doctors, lawyers, politicians… oh, except, there’s a pole dancer! Teehee! Isn’t that funny! They juxtapose a student saying, “The spins are the most empowering” with a shot of her doing a V-spin - and it’s clear we’re all supposed to laugh. And, of course, they make it look easy, like it’s something anyone can just walk up and do. Which is exactly what most people think of pole dancing already.

The message is clear: Johnna Mink and her students aren’t “difference makers.” Not really. (’Cause, see, it’s satire, folks!) The men like ‘em because it’s ALL ABOUT THE MEN (why wouldn’t it be?) and these women are just deluded and stupid. Stupid for pole dancing, and even stupider for finding it empowering.

I just had to let that rant out, because this kind of thing gets me fuming, and also makes me very sad.

And, even though for the most part I’ve given up “pre-emptive notes” at the end of posts, opting instead to simply delete comments from people who are stuck in a horrible Groundhog Day-esque loop of 7th grade, I’m adding one here, just because. So! Don’t come around here and tell me I’m “too sensitive” or I should “get a sense of humor” or I’m “reading too much into it,” etc. As if I’ve never heard any of THAT before. And as if that doesn’t exemplify a very relevant point about women’s voices being trivialized and dismissed.

Okay. Now that that’s out, I can get back to positive things.

Rusty and I have discussed the possibility of hiring someone to professionally clean our apartment once every two weeks or so. Given our busy schedules, it makes practical sense. And I’ve had the contact information of a cleaner for about two weeks now, on recommendation of a friend - but so far I haven’t actually contacted her.

I feel weird about this. I guess the word to describe what I feel is guilt - but I’m not sure that’s the whole picture.

For one thing, at a very deep level I just balk at the thought of me hiring a cleaner. It seems absurd. That’s something rich people do.

Also, I don’t want to be contributing to, well, exploitation. It goes without saying that I would be respectful toward any cleaner we might hire, and tip well. And yet, again on a very deep level, I feel bad about it, kind of like, how dare I pay someone to do this?

But when I think about it, that second reaction isn’t exactly fair, is it? It’s along the same lines as the reaction many people have to sex workers, for example. Obviously they must be downtrodden hard-luck types who would rather be in a different line of work, but as it is they’re poor exploited victims with no choice, and no voice. And we all know how I feel about generalizations like that.

And it’s really arbitrary, when I think about it even further, because I don’t have a similar reaction to, say, yard workers. Maybe that’s because when I was growing up we hired people to do yard work sometimes? (Even though, for the most part, they were my parents’ friends.)

So, upon (over-)analysis, it seems like the first part of my guilt-like reaction is coming from a place of being low(er) class myself, and the second part might be coming from a place of relative privilege. Maybe. Does that make sense?

Thoughts, anyone?

My sophomore year at NYU, I took a human sexuality course. (The actual title was, “Sexuality and the Human Experience.” I know… how collegiate!) For the most part, it was a great class - knowledgeable professor with a clear passion for the subject, lots of good discussions, laid-back atmosphere.

But, I will never forget, early in the semester we were given diagrams of male and female genitals and reproductive systems, and we had to label the various parts of each. Pretty basic, right? Well, apparently not. I remember the guy sitting next to me having a really difficult time with the female anatomy. He kept nudging me and asking questions. “Is that the clitoris?” “Wait, what’s this called?” And so on. I was incredulous. I kept thinking, “Wait a minute… you’re in college - you’re an adult - and you don’t know this stuff?”

And I wept for the future.

But later, I thought, well… really, why is it that I know any of that stuff? It’s because I took responsibility for educating myself. The schools I went to sure as hell didn’t teach it. “Sex ed” in school, for me, consisted of three basic themes: 1) You’ll bleed every month, here’s why; 2) the biological mechanics of reproduction; 3) STDs are disgusting and awful and the most terrible thing that could ever happen to you, and we’re going to show you photos zoomed in 100 times to completely freak you out!

We never did the put-a-condom-on-a-banana demo. After we were told repeatedly, “DON’T HAVE SEX UNTIL YOU’RE MARRIED!!!” a quick afterthought was dropped in to the effect of, “But, if you do, use a condom.” But we weren’t taught how to use a condom.

The clitoris might as well not exist. And my god, there is no such thing as masturbation.

Given these circumstances, it’s really, really fortunate that I’ve always been the type of person who loves learning, and likes to educate myself as fully as possible about any subject matter that I take an interest in.

It’s fortunate, too, that we had cable TV. Because honestly, I got way more sex education from MTV than from school. This isn’t a wring your hands kind of moment; in the early 90s, MTV didn’t suck like it does now. And it had excellent shows like “Sex in the 90s” where I learned about real-world shit like being a single mother with AIDS (dire example); or the fact that lesbian and gay folks don’t have special gay germs that you can catch (upbeat example). This was back when everyone was still kind of freaking out about AIDS, so it was a common topic on MTV, with plenty of benefits and specials and whatnot, all stoically narrated by Kurt Loder.

In addition to MTV, there was a brief period of time when we were somehow getting free (read: illegal) HBO. I would stay up late and secretly watch “Real Sex” with the volume turned way down. I learned about various sexual practices and heard from actual adults who partake; in particular I remember an episode about a bunch of hippies in a lodge in the woods or something, having some kind of tantric orgy.

Contrary to Republican hysteria, no, all this information did not make me run out and fuck everything that moved.

Instead, it made me feel more safe than I had previously.

So, to review: The “sex ed” I received in school was paltry at best. Sex was never mentioned by either of my parents (and, somehow, I knew better than to ask). I educated myself.

And this was before the abstinence-only revolution, and toward the tail-end of the AIDS panic that started in the mid 80s.

So what the hell are kids learning now?? It really scares me.

I could write reams about what I think school sex ed should look like. It would involve pretty much dismantling the current educational system overall, for starters. Unfortunately I doubt any real progress will be made any time soon, and I worry about kids having to grow up in such an environment.

There is one good thing though… namely, Heather Corinna’s new book, S.E.X. It could not have been published at a better time. Teenagers (and plenty of adults too, for that matter!) need to read this book. It has the information we all need. Even if the fundie nutjobs manage to get it banned from various libraries, I really hope kids manage to get their hands on a copy, somehow. I feel like we ought to start a blogger fund, to send copies of the book to kids in rural areas! (Only halfway joking there.)

Okay, that’s all I’ve got for now. Seriously, I could keep going for hours on this topic, but I need to go to bed at some point. To anyone reading this, I say: go buy Heather Corinna’s book, and give it to a teenager!

Sassywho’s post about her two ectopic pregnancies - and how she was treated like day-old shit by the ER staff - has me feeling all shaken up. Not because I’m shocked at the cruelty and mistreatment she endured; but because I’m not shocked, since I know that this kind of thing is all too common, and if anything, it’s the rule rather than the exception.

And I’m angry. And I feel powerless. I hate that feeling, anger coupled with powerlessness. It’s one of the worst, and it usually sends me spiraling down one of those “what the fuck do we do and why are we here?” tunnels - and I don’t like when my train of thought heads in that direction. I don’t like the powerlessness, because it ultimately means the anger usually ends up getting turned inward and is damaging to me, so I usually have to find some other way to deal - such as distraction by focusing on good things. Some may call it sticking my head in the sand, but I call it fucking survival. What the fuck else am I going to do? Sit here and be miserable? Like it or not, I - one person - can’t change the sorry state of healthcare in this country. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop voting for the right people, and donating to the right organizations; it just means, simply, that I don’t have the magic wand I wish I had.

But, that last paragraph was a tangent. The other thing about Sassywho’s post is that it’s quite timely. Because today when we were at the hospital, I was feeling very nervous. Obviously, I was nervous simply because I wanted Rusty to be okay, and it’s hard not to be nervous when the love of your life is having surgery. But I was also nervous for another, more insidious reason: I don’t trust hospitals. I don’t trust the medical establishment in this country, in general.

I was pretty surprised at how friendly and helpful everyone we encountered was, for the most part. Then I was irritated because something that should be the expected default came as a surprise. And, when there was that one nurse in the recovery area who behaved as if we were inconveniencing her with our presence, and seemed to be trying to shoo us out of the place as quickly as possible even though Rusty was barely lucid and in quite a bit of pain - well, I thought, “Yeah, the truth comes out.” That’s how I expect it and remember it, and have experienced it. It goes without saying that the fact that I expect rudeness and dismissiveness is fucked up.

Then I started to wonder, too, if all the other staff members we dealt with - nurses, surgeon, anesthesiologist - would have been just as nice if Rusty weren’t insured. I tried to stop myself from having that thought, because I recognized how unfair it was. And I did get the feeling that many of the people we dealt with, especially the nurses, were genuinely nice, caring people. (They might not even know about patients’ insurance status or financial situation. I don’t know how that works.)

But my mind kept going back to how my dad was treated when he was in the hospital after his stroke last year: like a second class citizen, to put it bluntly. Uninsured and without a stable source of income, they treated him as an inconvenience and a liability. They were trying to get him out of there as soon as possible, and they barely made any effort to pretend otherwise. He stayed in the hospital for a way shorter period of time than he should have. Instead of physical therapy, they photocopied some pages of exercises intended for orthopedic patients and told my mom, “Have him do these.”

My mom has never liked to admit that we’re not the middle-class suburban folks I think she thinks we’re supposed to be. She does that extra-vengeful classism thing that I guess comes out of embarrassment, or guilt, or god knows what. When we were staying at the hospital with my dad, she recounted a conversation with the hospital social worker; she had made sure to stress that while he didn’t have insurance, it wasn’t because he was “lazy” or “a bum.” You know, like those people. The other people who don’t have insurance.

Eh, another tangent there. Point being… well, I don’t know what my point is, really. Just that I distrust the medical establishment in general. This is already long enough, so I won’t even get into the time I was hospitalized for depression in 2001 as a broke, just-married college student. I hope to [insert deity here] that I never have to go to the ER for something as serious as what Sassywho went through, where I literally might die because the people working there are “jaded” and “burnt out.” Excuse the fuck out of me for not giving a good goddamn.

I don’t want to end this on such a pissed off, powerless note, because like I said earlier, I don’t like that feeling, and I don’t want to be passing it along to y’all. So I’ll go stick my head in the sand now, and you do the same if you’re so inclined. Keep voting, writing letters, and donating whatever time or money you can; beyond that? Well, life’s too short to feel powerless all the time. So find the good where you can, and enjoy every nanosecond of it.

Hmm, looks like I spoke too soon about Akismet… it let 3 spam comments slip through. But, the actual comment field was empty, for reasons I will not divulge. Still, it’s a huge improvement. It’s already caught 20 spam comments. So, I think it’s safe to say that any of you who’ve ditched my comments RSS should feel free to resubscribe.

But that’s not why I started writing this post. This is:

I love this post by The Happy Feminist. What she’s writing about goes hand-in-hand with my post from yesterday, about the importance of speaking openly about things that are stigmatized in our society. I even used mental illness as one example.

I was tempted not to go into my personal issues on this blog out of a fear of playing into anti-feminist stereotypes of the screwed up feminist. But freedom means not having to pretend to be superhuman just because I am a feminist. Although feminists are often very strong, tough women, being a feminist does not guarantee a woman invincibility, nor should we allow ourselves to be forced to hold to that standard.

To that I say, rock on, Happy Feminist!

As someone who has been in therapy and on anti-depressant medication for about 10 years now (not continuously; I went periods of months and even years without seeing a therapist), I feel very strongly about this. I decided long ago (”…never to walk in anyone’s shadow” - oh, wait… ahem) that I was not going to perpetuate the stigma against and ignorance about depression, therapy, etc. I knew people who were or had been in therapy but didn’t talk about it. As if they were ashamed. I decided I was not going to play that shit. And so, for damn near 10 years now, I’ve talked openly, honestly, and unashamedly about my experiences, and have called lots of people on lots of bullshit. And, quite a few people have thanked me for being so open about it, saying it helped them to confront their own issues.

Speaking of health… mental and otherwise… Heather Corinna of Scarleteen has posted an awesome round-up of all the important information regarding OTC EC. (Attack of the acronyms!!) This is an amazing resource she’s put together… especially because it’s damn near impossible to find out anything definitive about how the legality of all of this will be played out. You should bookmark it, immediately.

Well, I should probably get to bed… I’m in that weird state right now of being tired, but not. (That probably makes no sense; oh well.) I have a list of things I need to do tomorrow, but fortunately I think it’s manageable; so I don’t feel overwhelmed (yet).

And, hey! If you have anything at all you want to say, about me, this blog, the Georgia Podcast Network, podcasts in general, anything… call the GAPN voicemail-slash-rantline at 678.389.9441. Otherwise we’ll just look like the unpopular kid sitting alone at the lunch table, and that’s no fun for anyone.

When people say things like, “Why are you so concerned with helping sex workers unionize, when there are women all over the world being forced into sexual slavery?” When I hear something like that, the logical fallacy smacks me in the face. My brain says, “Does not compute!”

Why is it an either/or situation? If I think people who work in the sex industry by choice should have their profession legitimized and protected, why does that automatically mean that I don’t care about women being forced into sexual slavery, or that I think it’s not a severe problem, or that I don’t want to see the situation eradicated, or (on a much nastier note) that I support the rape of women and girls, and help perpetuate male dominance over women?

Huh??

I shouldn’t have to spell out that I envision a world where no one is forced to work in the sex industry; a world where prostitutes are not at the mercy of pimps, johns, and cops who routinely abuse them; where men don’t have power over women’s sexuality; and so on.

I’m using an example from feminist debate because it’s something that has come up in the blogosphere lately; but this kind of false logic happens all the time, everywhere. You see it so often that you probably don’t even notice it anymore.

You’ll be worrying about something and someone will tell you to “get over yourself” (whatever that’s supposed to mean), because a lot of people are worse off than you are. You’ll be working for this or that social issue, and someone will come along and try to derail you by suggesting that you shouldn’t concern yourself with such things, because in the U.S. we have it sooooo much better than, say, a third world country of your choosing. Well, so what? Are we to hold ourselves to the standard of third world countries? Are we not to set the bar a little higher? Low expectations much?

But back to the more personal aspect of it… There’s definitely a line between being a narcissist and taking care of yourself - but I don’t think that line is as fine as some people might want to believe. I think it’s just that we’re not used to actually taking care of ourselves. As a society we need a whole lotta therapy, because we’ve been guilt-tripped into believing that “selfish” is a dirty word, and that we can’t truly care about others unless we completely abandon care of ourselves. This, of course, is bullshit, and I firmly believe it’s a big factor in why we’re so dysfunctional on the whole. If you neglect yourself then how the fuck can you really help anyone else?

I also think when people tell you to “get over yourself,” it usually says a whole lot more about the person saying it than it does about you. Obviously, there are plenty of self-absorbed little pricks who aren’t willing to see beyond the confines of their own experience. Those people need a nice swift kick in the pants, and with any luck life will give them one sooner or later. But should their existence mar the rest of us? Should it mean that I shouldn’t take care of myself?

I just don’t understand why the fact that there are people starving in [insert far-off country with non-white citizens here] means that a difficult situation I’m going through and the associated stress and worry is any less valid. Does that make me insensitive? If so, why? How does neglecting my own needs (and by “needs” I don’t mean a plasma TV or something, I mean mental and emotional needs) help those people?

Or, on a less personal note, why shouldn’t I be concerned about poverty in the U.S. and the ever-widening gap between rich and poor? No, the bulk of the working poor is not living in cardboard boxes here, but do we have to let it get to that point before we care to do anything about the problem? Again, does not compute.

Sure, it helps to have perspective. But perspective doesn’t eradicate the particular circumstances you may be experiencing at any point in time. So don’t minimize what I’m going through and how it affects me. And, realizing that there are serious problems going on all over the world doesn’t mean you shouldn’t work to improve the quality of life in your own country.

Anyway, just some thoughts that have been floating around in my head lately. I don’t think I did a very good job of conveying what I mean, but I’m not that concerned about it, because this was mainly just a rant/braindump. (So if you want to come along and make presumptions, then be my guest if you enjoy wasting time.)

I really enjoyed hearing the thoughts/opinions/definitions that people shared in the “what is your definition of a slut” thread last week. Very thought-provoking stuff there.

Since I promised I’d share my (former) definition if other people shared theirs, it’s time for me to deliver.

Actually, this isn’t really a definition in the OED sense of the word, but rather an explanation of the reasons behind me using “slut” as an insult. As ARBY said, using this insult “more likely indicates a problem in the mind of the user.” So here’s what this “user’s” problem was.

Yes, in middle school and much of high school, I pegged other girls as “sluts.” Labeling someone as such stemmed from insecurity and jealousy on my part. This is something I think I knew on some level at the time, but didn’t recognize or admit. But later it became glaringly obvious. See, in middle school and the first few years of high school, I was a pariah. I was the ugly girl. The nerdy girl. The girl who dressed weird. The girl who had to learn how to weave through a barrage of projectiles - usually verbal, occasionally physical - and all the while pretend like this abuse (because that’s what it was; fuck anyone who trivializes it by calling it “teasing”) didn’t affect me. Looking back I can’t rationally understand why they all targeted me; but then I remember I shouldn’t try to decipher an irrational situation with rational thought.

Anyway. Obviously no one wanted to date me, much less have sex with me in those days. But, then as now, I had a massive libido, and it was painfully underfed. I ended up getting some warped ideas about sex in relation to desirability, attractiveness, and all that other bullshit. At least the girls who were called sluts were getting some attention. At least the boys recognized them as sexual beings. Sure, the boys may have been treating them in a disrespectful or downright dehumanizing way - but to my rattled young brain, it didn’t matter. They were called sluts and whores, their sexual experimentation made the subject of gossip and jokes - but it was something. I didn’t even have that much.

Tangentially, I was afraid of taking chances. I was terrified of what my parents might do. I didn’t dream of sneaking out, breaking curfew, going to parties (as if I would be invited anyway), and so on. So I felt like a coward as well as a social outcast. But really, it’s a good thing I was so afraid, or I could’ve ended up doing something really stupid or putting myself in a dangerous situation.

Changing schools in 11th grade was one of the best things I ever did for myself; and for all the bad things they did, I do thank my parents for letting me change schools and somehow scrounging together the money to pay for private school tuition. In a new school, where no one knew me and all the history of the past 4-5 years wasn’t following me around, I could start over and really be myself. And thank [your preferred deity] for that.

I have a brief intermission from training; why use it for anything but blogging? Admittedly, this is merely a rehashing of a comment I posted on Tony’s site, but whatever, you know you need your Being Amber Rhea fix. </hubris>

You’ve heard of the proposed HPV vaccine, yes? If so, you’ve probably also heard that certain Christian wingnuts are opposed to it*. Their reasoning? Get ready for some truly bass-ackwards bullshit. They claim that if people get vaccinated for HPV, they will see it as a license to fuck, fuck, and fuck some more.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I got my tetanus vaccine, I didn’t see it as a license to go dance on a bed of rusty nails.

An HPV vaccine would be particularly useful because approximately 80% of the population is exposed to HPV at some point in their lives, and most people who have it go their entire lives never knowing they have it, because they don’t have symptoms. Without symptoms, HPV is almost impossible to test for. (Gah! I ended a sentence with a preposition!) So people spread it to others without even knowing they have anything to spread in the first place. Furthermore, it is possible to contract HPV without overtly sexual contact, since it’s spread by skin-to-skin contact. But the religious wackos wouldn’t be interested in hearing about the less juicy aspects of communicable infections.

Here’s one of my favorite explanations about the religious right’s position on the HPV vaccine, from the Family Research Council. This was written as part of a “defense” against allegations that their group espouses wholesale opposition to the vaccine.

While we welcome medical advances such as an HPV vaccine, it remains clear that practicing abstinence until marriage and fidelity within marriage is the single best way of preventing the full range of sexually transmitted diseases, unwanted pregnancies, and negative psychological and emotional consequences that can result from sexual activity outside marriage.

Okay, that’s great, sweetie. (Aside: someone named Amber wrote that press release. Nice.) But let’s step out of your insanely simplistic worldview for a second, okay? You can be as pure as the driven snow until your wedding night, and end up contracting HPV from your husband, who never knew he had it. Even if he was a Virgin Soldier until he married you, maybe he and a high school girlfriend let their hormones get the better of them ten years ago and engaged in some “heavy petting,” and bam, he got HPV. I won’t even go into all the other everyday scenarios, like people getting remarried after a divorce, or asinine debates such as whether those who cheat on their spouse don’t deserve the same standard of medical care, because it’s just boring to repeat all that stuff after a certain point.

(I should also mention that this vaccine would only prevent the strains of HPV that can lead to cervical cancer. There are hundreds of strains of HPV, most of which cause no symptoms. Some strains, known as “low-risk” HPV, can cause genital warts in a small percentage of infected people; this vaccine would prevent only “high-risk” strains. This concludes your excessively long parenthetical statement.)

Let’s face it: these religious right folks are anti-sex, and that’s all there is to it. There’s something deeply disturbing about their obsession with sex and their reactionary desire to rid the world of it altogether. It doesn’t matter that all the things they claim will lead to more unwanted pregnancies, more STIs, more (gasp!) pre-marital sex - e.g., comprehensive sex education; access to contraception; safe and legal abortions; etc. - have been shown, over and over again, to decrease all these things, whereas abstinence-only education and a lack of access to contrace