Links-a-matic Time: the Good, the Bad, and the Baffling

Darling readers, in the month I was gone, a whole lifetime of insanity seems to have gone by in the news. I thought of writing a few posts about some of the things that have happened in my absence, but the blogosphere, I'm sure, has already taken care of Gingrich and Bachmann and Perry, discussed Sandusky into oblivion, and kept right on rolling. So I'm going to keep up with the pace and direct you to a few fun, a couple outrageous, and some absolutely batshit links for your back-to-work pleasure this week! Enjoy! Or, you know, foam at the mouth with rage. Or whatever rocks your boat.

1) Some bad news first: this study from the Center for Disease Control was, in fact, released over the time I was gone. But it's so important I'm reiterating it. I'm going to just quote from GlobalPost because typing the words hurts my soul:

"The study found that almost 12 million men and women are affected by sexual assault in the United States each year; that means 24 Americans are raped or abused every minute."

A few months ago I got into a conversation with my boyfriend about whether the rape statistics from South Africa were worse or comparative to those in the US. While there are far fewer people in South Africa than the US, and therefore there over-3,000-rapes-a-daynumber is more dramatically awful from a percentage standpoint, I argued that I was certain at least taht many, if not more, people were raped every day here in the States. And lo and behold, I was right. Yayyyy.

This number is intolerable. My suggestion? Education, education, education. And not the "Girls, don't wear skirts when you go out" kind. The "People, don't rape other people, EVER, EVER, EVER" kind. This is something that needs more reporting, more media coverage, more talking, and more exposure. If America is the land of the free, then we need to be braver about discussing this issue. It starts everywhere, and it starts now.



2) David Bowie turned 65 yesterday, amidst much media fanfare. But the recently-elusive Father of All Things Cool and Androgynous was nowhere to be seen. Artist Ed Chapman created a beautiful stone mosaic portrait of the artist during his Ziggy Stardust era, fans and celebrities alike called for the Man Who Fell to Earth to return to the public spotlight with a comeback tour, and the internet celebrated his legend. I did a lot of dancing to Low in my apartment and reflected upon just how much of a massive impact this man has had on my life. David Bowie is my inspiration--the man has taught me how to be myself, no matter what self that happens to be at any given time, and to use discipline and hard work to back up my talents. And his willingness to experiment with blurring gender and sexuality lines way before it was even part of the world's public conversation taught millions to rethink the way they saw themselves and others. And, well, his music is amazing. I submit for your consideration the below panty-wetting lusciousness:

3) The baffling: Rick Santorum. I can't believe I'm actually mentioning him in a semi-serious context. This guy has been pissing me off for YEARS, but when he became an internet meme, courtesy of the legendary Dan Savage, and lost his Senate Seat a few years back, I thought the world had gotten its priorities straightened out enough to see him for the peurile infant he is. Apparently, says Iowa and the three-ring circus that is the GOP race, I was wrong. There are so many things I find abhorrent about his politics and so many links I could post to that it overwhelms my poor mind to even think of being thorough, but his latest gaffe was comparying gay marraige to polygamy in front of a college Republicans in New Hampshire. On the basis, you see, of the foregone conclusion that both gay marriage and polygamy are inherently wrong. And their evilness, it seems, connects them in his mind, which seems to be void of all logical reasoning skills. How two men getting married translates, in his mind, to the same thing as three men getting married... well, it's beyond me. But so is the idea that non-procreative sex, even within marriage, is bad. So I guess we're just not on the same level.
But anyway, the upshot of this is that, whether because young Republicans these days are more open-minded or have just more recently studied how logical fallacies work, the students he was speaking too openly booed him for making this comparison. The forces of reason: + 1. Santorum -587 (approximately--I've lost count).

4) The head-shake-inducingly gross: And this is a rather minor story, given that most of the civilized world already knows that New Jersey governor Chris Christie is something of a wallowing, porcine specimen of political weirdness, but yesterday at a Mitt Romney (whole other story) ralley, when he was heckled by some female participants about jobs going down, he responded, and I quote: "You know, something may be going down tonight, but it ain’t going to be jobs, sweetheart."
...
Apparently this man isn't aware that calling a woman you don't know "sweetheart," especially in public and as a politician, is frowned upon. Not just by feminist extremists, but by anyone who's ever gone through a workplace sexual harrassment training. Or, you know, anyone who respects women. And that's without even mentioning the actual gist of what he said. Was he implying that random hecklers in the audience should stop heckling and give him a blowjob? Or that he would give them oral sex if they shut up? Or...? I can't even wrap my brain around this one. What a pig.

Worst Activist EVAR... But an OK Thinker

I'm not much of an activist. I'm being honest. I believe deeply in the need for change in this country, and I absolutely support what's happening on Wall Street here in my very own city. I believe that fat-cat greed has finally gone too far and that we as a democratic nation need to stand up, a la The Whiskey Rebellion, to make our lowly little voices heard to banks, corporations, lobbyists, and politicians. Likewise, I (obviously) support the ballsy men and women who took to the streets of New York this weekend in NYC's very own Slutwalk. DUH, it's of vital importance that as we move forward as a species, we actively promote the rights of individuals to dress however they want without fear of assault. I'm absolutely pro-slut. And both of these massively important activism events took place in my city of residence this past Saturday! What's a strong-opinioned, publicly vocal feminist to do? Which march to choose?

If I'd been a really good activist, I'd have done both. Dressed in lingerie and hit up the Occupy Wall Street march to make my point about my rights to dress how I want an issue across the board, then headed off to Slutwalk if I didn't get arrested for being too activist-y and flamboyant.

But what did I do? I went to neither. As I said, I'm a bad activist. A crappy one, even. A crap-tivist, if you will. Heh.

No, seriously, I'm ashamed. But I do have my reasons (ahem... boyfriend's birthday, pre-made plans, cold weather...). But you don't need to hear the excuses; the point is this:

In the aftermath, I feel like a fool for not having gone down there. Of course, with Occupy Wall Street, there's still lots of time, and I hope to go down to march later this week or weekend. This stuff is important. But in the days since, I've noticed that while the Brooklyn Bridge mass arrest has gotten huge headlines, Slutwalk got virtually none. But if you ask me, they're integrally linked. Think of it this way: those people who got pepper-sprayed the other day? Mostly women. A lot fo the 700 arrested on Saturday? Women. What do you think would have happened if, as I'd mentioned above, a whole lot of them showed up dressed in fishnets, platform heels, and leather? I'm willing to bet that the "Well, look how she was dressed" feeling that led to Slutwalk in Toronto in the first place would have been brought to bear. I'm willing to bet that the women dressed "all slutty" would have been the first to be photographed, the first to be arrested, and the least likely to garner any sympathy. If you want to get real nitty-gritty, sex workers are a HUGE number of "the 99%" and their numbers are steadily growing as the disaffected workers of America are laid off and need to earn a living somehow. Sex work, sluttiness, and Occupy Wall Street are all part of the same need for change. If a nurse, a waiter, an actor, a secretary, or a retail worker can't earn enough to survive in this economy because the fat cats on Wall Street and beyond don't care about them, think of what those pudgy pussies would have to say about the rights of sex workers to earn a decent living and basic respect.

I wonder, if a group of prostitutes, escorts, strippers, or porn stars showed up at Occupy Wall Street to agitate for their right to work and be respected like the rest of America, what would happen? Would the be spurned by the activist community growing in lower Manhattan and told they're making the whole movement look bad? Or only told by police, as women in Brooklyn have recently been, to put on some damn clothes because they might get raped? Or would they just be arrested for being there and being too sexy? An interesting question, and one that makes me think about just how much work there is to be done. Maybe I'll give it a shot this weekend, peeps. Garter belt and picket sign? A good combo?

BOLs or BEWBS

Image copied from the site in question; let me know if you mind, ladies!

Well, since I'm on the topic of boobs, and before that I was on the topic of lady love, this little slice of sexiness, courtesy of Fleshbot, caught my interest. It's a site called "Boobs Only Lesbians," and it's about a "fourth" sexuality its creators believe exists for women. We shouldn't be limited, they say, to the standard "lesbian," "straight," and "bisexual" labels! As ladies we should have a fourth option for "women who appreciate the company of women, the beauty of women, but with an aversion to the vag." This would be the "Boobs Only Lesbian," or BOL, classification, which the creators of the site champion in their "Boobifesto."

...huh.

Now, far be it from me to deride anyone for loving boobs. As I've already mentioned several times in several posts, and as I'm sure I'll go on to rhapsodize about in the future, I love boobs. Big ones, small ones, perky ones, droopy ones, big nipples, little nipples... you name it. I'm a fan. And it's kind of funny, you know, because as a woman with boobs I'm sometimes a little mystified by their appeal. I mean, after all, they're just these rather inanimate things that hang out on our chests, not really doing anything for the majority of their lives, unless their being sucked on in an erotic or life-giving manner.

But then again, they bounce so beautifully when women run. And they feel so nice to squeeze in the hand. And to snuggle your head up against. And to kiss and to... Ok, getting off topic here... Focus...

Ok, right, but the thing is, despite the fact that I am as big a fan of boobs as the next "gay," "bisexual," or "BOL" woman, and just as much in favor of fluffy fleshbags as most straight and even many gay men... I'm not buying the BOL thing. My first response when I read about the idea was this: "Bullshit! Pure, unadulterated bullshit! If you love women, you love WOMEN. Vag and all! If you want boobs and no vag, find a transsexual with boobs and a cock!"

Now, this may be intolerant of me. I may just be reacting strongly, in a fearful tone, to something new and different that threatens my ideas of sexuality. I do not want to be the next wave of bigotry against fringe sexualities! So I'm trying to examine my bemusement about this idea carefully to be certain there's no prejudicial attitudes lurking in my brain or lodged in my heart. And so far I don't think I've found any. But who knows, maybe this new way of thinking, this "Boobilosophy" is simply too new, too groundbreaking, too avant-garde, for little old me to wrap my limited brain around.

But I just... I don't know. I mean, if you want to call yourself a "lesbian," then it seems to me that the vag should be part of the parcel. How can you be a lesbian, a gay woman, if you're not into the most defining physical parts of the female sex? If you thinks boobs are lovely and you kind of want to play with them, but you're turned off by the idea of the under-parts because of their mysterious dark interiors; widely varied exteriors; unpredictable (if you don't know what you're doing) variations between dry, moist, and wet; possible hairiness; musky odor... Then are you a "lesbian"? Or just a woman who likes boobs? I'm leaning toward the latter. Couldn't they call themselves "Female Boob Appreciators"--FBAs? Or "Boob Enthusiasts With Boobs"--which would appropriately be shortened to BEWBs?

I get that this isn't maybe the most serious sexuality statement in the world: they'd probably have called them "breasts" instead of "boobs" if they really wanted to be militant about it. So I'm not gonna get too worked up. But seems to me, if you're scared off by the scent and feel of the down-theres, but you like the up-tops, you shouldn't be trying to take the hard-won and still-fought-for title of a woman who really loves other women. Lesbians--real lesbians who like pussy--still get enough shit for having "fluid sexuality" and going through "phases" when they announce their preference. They still get weird looks in public. They still get discriminated against all the damn time. So maybe trying to take their mantle and wear it around your privates so none of the other BOLs will have to look at your vag, which they have an "aversion" to, isn't so polite. Maybe being a woman who sometimes drunkenly makes out with other chicks at the bar so guys can watch and then calling yourself bisexual is along the same lines as calling yourself a BOL.

But, then again, this world sure can use more openness about sexuality, and maybe I'm just being prejudiced against people who are trying to jump the gun on terms that still have prejudice swirling around them. And maybe I just have a grudge against those straight girls who made out with me at the bar just so they could open their eyes and see a bunch of drunk coeds ogling us...

Ah well, hey, this site has lots of artistic pictures of beautiful bazongas all over it, so... I'm gonna go look at it. Peace!

Topless Protests in Ukraine (PHOTOS, PHOTOS, PHOTOS!)

I just read a story about a feminist group of Ukrainian women going topless in public to protest the diminished role they play in their nation's culture. Over there, they say, women are nothing more than baby makers with hands to do the cooking and the cleaning. Which, I agree, is not cool, and it's absolutely right that they're standing up to protest. ...not so sure about the open-air hooters, though.

While on the one hand I think it's great that they are willing to do something so very un-Ukrainian and wild to get their cause noticed, on the other hand, I'm a little worried. Obviously, boobs in public (in the fall in Eastern Europe, where I'm sure it's cold, especially) are a fail-safe method to getting you noticed, but not necessarily because they're signs of fighting the establishment. More likely, it's because people love to look at, and sexualize, boobs. The article, or lack thereof, in the Huffington Post plainly demonstrates that people are more likely to pay attention to the protest because of the bawdiness of bared nipples than because they give a damn about what the ladies were trying to say.

The headline in this Western, "forward-thinking," popular publication reads: "Femen, Ukraine Topless Women's Rights Group, Causes Stir in Protests (PHOTOS)"--note the capitalized "PHOTOS." The article goes on to describe the women's goals to garner attention for their cause by "letting down their bra straps. (Scroll down for photos.)"Note the bold reference to the photos, not the article's content. This panting hint to hurry on down to the 10-photo slide show featuring suspiciously thin, perky-breasted, attractive young women (did they choose not to publish photos of less-attractive women, or are all Ukrainian ladies really that gorgeous?) holding up signs we Westerners can't even read and yelling in Ukranian in the presence of grim-faced police officers is encouragement to skip over the scant four paragraphs of broad-strokes journalism about Femen and the government's mostly condescending reaction to their outbursts. After all, who'd want to shut this protest down? There are BOOBIES involved. Let's look at the boobies!

It's a catch 22. Of course, I love boobies. I think they're a beautiful testament to the love of whoever or whatever created us, and I love looking at them. But the gazongas in this case are supposed to the bait in the trap of getting people to listen to what these young women have to say, not the focus and point of the trap in themselves (though in the cold weather I'm sure they were rather pointed, heh). But, as a woman in a former Russian block country where men are supposed to be the guardians and safekeepers of meek, hard-working, baby-making women, just opening your mouth is probably not enough to get any attention. Opening your bra--now that will win some hard looks. But you know what I mean by hard, and if these women want anyone to take them seriously, this may not be the best way to do it.

What's a young, angry, Ukrainian feminist to do? I don't know, ladies, but perhaps some more brain work should go into your next protest. If you want men to treat you as more than sex objects in a part of the world where that's been the tradition for thousands of years, showing them your sexiest of objects may not do the trick. It's certainly a worthy cause and I'd love to help you fight for it, but I am not going to take off my top in public in November in New York, and I don't think it would help all that much anyway.