Things I Learned From Watching Lifetime Movies

For as long as I can remember, my mom and I would spend Sundays in our pajamas watching Lifetime movies. Now that I'm home for the holidays, we are continuing this tradition. In honor of home, my mom, and family traditions, I give you a list of the things I learned from growing up watching Lifetime movies. 

trigger warning for mention of domestic violence and sexual assault.

1. Men are terrible and you can never trust them.

One of the major themes of Lifetime movies in of the boyfriend/fiance/husband/one night stand trying to kill the female protagonist. These movies almost always involve a different man coming to save the female protagonist from her bloodthirsty beau. Leading to...

2. Sure, men will try to kill you, but they will also save you and you will always love them. 

That nice, young, attractive sheriff man that saved the female protagonist is also conveniently a love interest. Funny how that works. 

3. Lesbians do not exist. 

4. Neither do bisexuals. 

Unless the female protagonist references experimenting in college or decides to give her beau a threesome for his birthday. 

5. Sexually liberated women (or sluts) are all evil and out to kill you and steal your husband. 

But that can all change if the pure hearted female protagonist befriends her and the slut learns the error of her ways. 

6. Abuse survivors are never to blame. 

This one I actually like. In my experience of Lifetime movies, they have dealt with abuse survivors in an amazing way. They show cycles of abuse and frame the story in a way to affirm that the survivor is not to blame for her situation. They also do really well with sexual assault and showing PTSD and social stigma. Of course, they also only ever show female survivors and male perpetrators so that is definitely not the most enlightened. 

7. Never trust the step-mother. 

She is out to steal a trust fund. 

8. Only white people exist. 

Unless there's a sexy pool boy/tour guide/receptionist. Thanks, Racism. 

9. Only rich people exist, and if poor people do exist they are out to pull a con. 

Thanks, Classism. 

10. No matter how much you love an actress, sometimes her career takes a hit and she ends up doing a made for TV movie. 

And so are the facts of life. 

You are probably now asking yourself why I continue to watch Lifetime movies with my mom. Well, it's still bonding time with my mom. And it's really nice to watch movies/TV with a mostly female cast in more complex roles than the one-dimensional female character from a male driven comedy. Sometimes there are even some empowering messages hidden within these ridiculous, cheesy, and problematic movies. Women deserve better entertainment and representation than Lifetime. 

You can't outrun rape culture

It could be any day after work at the gym. I'm on a cardio machine. My Misogyny Pandora station is blasting through my headphones (I work out harder if I'm angry at the patriarchy). Basically, I'm in work out mode. My face screams, "Leave me the fuck alone; I'm running and I'm not happy about it."
That's when it happens.
Some bro decides to stop and stare at me running. He's not even trying to hide it. He just stops in the middle of the cardio station at stares at me.
My initial reaction is, "Holy shit! What the fuck? Is my form that bad? Are my headphones that loud?"
And then he winks.
I stop running. I don't remove my headphones. I glare at him. I give him my best "you better run because I will fuck you up, you know I work out" face.
He saunters away.
After he's gone, all I can think is: "No matter the location of this situation, I still would have been running at some point. At the gym, I was already running. If this had happened on the street, I would have started running."

This is just one time out of a series of terrible encounters at the gym. I could write a novel documenting all of the terrifying experiences I've had at the gym.

The gym is not a safe place for women. That's why the existence of woman-only gyms is not an example of "male oppression."

Men outright ogle women. They openly stare as women run, lift, and stretch. Oh god, stretching. God forbid a woman stretches at the gym. Once, I was in a standing forward bend and when I came back up I was face to face with a man who was just staring at my ass.

Here's the really terrible thing though. I go to the gym because I do not feel safe running outdoors. As a woman who grew up on Law & Order: SVU and a slew of made-for-TV movies, I am fully aware of the dangers of jogging outside as a woman. I go to the gym because it's supposed to be safer than running outside. I'm trying to stay safe and not get victim blamed (Oh, she was running outside? Couldn't she just go the gym? Didn't she know what happens to women who go jogging?). I'm already pissed that I spend money on a gym membership just so I can have the semblance of a sense of security. However, that sense of security is taken by assholes who stare at me as I try to work out.

Now, I work out to stay healthy both mentally and physically. One of my big feminist projects right now is to unlearn the internalized misogyny of hating my own body and heteropatriarchal, racist beauty standards. I'm trying to go to the gym without thinking about calorie counts, jean sizes, and thigh gaps. As someone in recovery from an eating disorder, that is it's own battle.
As you can imagine, the gym is already a terrible place for me. I'd venture to guess, it's a pretty terrible place for other women, outside of the ogling bros. Women are taught to hate our bodies and to strive for a bullshit beauty ideal. Some women go to the gym to try to reach that ideal. So not only are they going to the gym due to a patriarchal mandate, but then once they get there, they are observed and policed under the male gaze. This is completely fucked up.

It's a good thing I work out harder when I'm angry at the patriarchy.

Privilege and Service

A little over a month ago, I started my year of service. That is, I am spending the next year working for a non profit making virtually no money. I'm doing this for a number of reasons, but mostly out of a desire to put all of my academic theory reading to practice as well as having almost no idea as to what to do after I graduated from undergrad. Now, I chose my service organization because they showed a dedication to social justice and intentional community. They also seemed the least fucked up out of all the service organizations I looked into. That said, I'll confess one of my current qualms: the lack of meaningful discussion of privilege.

Part of my organization's orientation was to attend an anti-racism training. The training was helpful, but it did not explore how we, as volunteers, carry and perpetuate privilege (or lack thereof). It did not engage us in meaningful discussions about how to navigate that tense place of wanting to serve but also being an oppressor and privileged. (Side note: most of my program is white, straight, middle class, educated women). (Other side note: there are so many women in my program that it sometimes comes across that the few men that do participate are given an unnecessary amount of consideration and space because they are a "minority group" in the program).

Recently, we had a workshop about "service tenants." These tenants were pretty fucked up. They were communicated in flowery language (i.e. "stay for tea" instead of "build relationships") rather than simply lay out that in order to do good service work we need to check our privilege, build relationships with who we are serving, and treat people with dignity and respect. My biggest issue is that this program never once used the word privilege. Instead of telling us to check our privilege, it told us to "check our filter." According to the organization hosting this workshop (it was separate from my service org), your "filter" is your worldview as in the identities and assumptions you carry with you. Of course, when they told us to "check our filter" they were telling us to challenge our assumptions and our privileges. Just without actually talking about privilege.

It is a privilege to spend a year doing service. From my limited time in my service organization, that appears to be the big taboo thing to actively discuss. Someone will mention it in passing, but no one really engages with it. And why would they? Those uncomfortable feelings that come from talking about how we perpetuate privilege merely distracts from the good feelings we have from being so altruistic. But we have privilege. And we cannot check it if we do not actively acknowledge that it exists. We cannot do good service work until we engage with our privilege. We need to learn and work at being intentional with our service work on a micro level before we can ever do it at a macro level. Essentially, we have to do the dirty work of self-reflecting on how in our service placements we perpetuate our privilege.

I'll use myself as an example. I am an educated, white person with no experience of homelessness or injection drug use working with and educating people experiencing or have experienced homelessness and/or injection drug use. About half of the people I serve are also of color. In an effort to not perpetuate my privilege, I listen and ask questions. I ask about their own knowledge and story. As I learn about them, I give them resources and information I think would be beneficial. And then I ask if it is useful. I also understand that I will most likely fuck up. A lot. I will accidentally use inaccessible medical jargon. I will not own up to the fact that I'm not familiar with injection drug use. And I know that instead of soaking up that uncomfortableness and using it as a learning opportunity, I will try to avoid it. But I have to work and be better. And it's not for me. I can't focus on challenging my privilege because I feel guilty or I want to be a better person. My intentions don't mean shit. My focus needs to be on the impact of my actions. Challenging my privilege is to lessen the perpetuation of my privilege and to work against systemic oppression. It's not because I want sainthood or some bullshit warm fuzzy feeling.

For service to be selfless it should start with challenging and check your own privilege.

Why You Shouldn't Touch People Without Their Consent

BECAUSE IT'S THEIR BODY NOT YOURS.
YOU ARE ENTITLED TO NOTHING.

Ok, so maybe I'll explain a little more.

Consent is generally thought about in terms of sex. However, consent is still a necessary concept for any action that can invade a person's space, body, and sense of well being. And since most people do not know what actions will invade someone else's sense of well being, it's best just to get consent before any action AND NOT GET OFFENDED IF CONSENT IS NOT GIVEN.

Oh, that person didn't want to shake hands with you? Brush it off. For all you know, they are sick or are insecure about their really cold hands.
That girl didn't want to hug you? She probably doesn't feel comfortable with you and/or doesn't feel safe.

Do not blame or shame people who do not want to be touched. You have no idea why they don't want physical contact. That person could be a survivor and physical touch is a trigger. They could have a sensory disorder where touch is to over stimulating. Or they could simply not want to be touched. It is their body and they have the right to decide who has access to it or not.

Some light summer reading

Monosexism and Internalized Biphobia

In case you've never met me before, let me come out real quick: I'M PANSEXUAL!
woo, glad we got that out of the way.
Now, I'm sure you're asking yourself, "What is pansexuality and how is it different from bisexuality?" You, my friend, are not alone. In fact, I ask myself this on a semi-regular basis. The answer I'm about to give, is true for me and my identity. I'm in no way answering for other pansexuals and bisexuals. This is simply how I identify and understand it after my own self-reflection and research.

The way I understand it and identify is that bisexuality is the umbrella term for non-monosexual identities. Non-monosexual identities are sexualities like polysexual, pansexual, and omnisexual. These are different from monosexualities such as heterosexual and homosexual. Basically, non-monosexual identities are those that are sexually attracted to more than one gender. Bisexuality is the historical term for these identities as it was assigned to us a long way back by researchers (similar to the history of homosexuality).
Pansexuality is my personal identifier. While I exist under the bisexual umbrella, I identify as pansexual. As a pansexual, I am sexually attracted to all gender identities. Someone who identifies as bisexual can also be sexually attracted to all gender identities, but just choose to identify as bisexual. They aren't wrong. Deciding how to label your sexuality is your own choice and there's no wrong way to do that. Anyone who says otherwise needs to reexamine why they're telling people how to identify - because, in the most basic terms, that shit isn't cool.

Now, here's the fun part: why I prefer to identify as pansexual and not bisexual. The answer is internalized biphobia. When I was first figuring out that I wasn't straight (which is how I identified for a long time while in my closet), I immediately pushed away from bisexuality. I believe my 15 year old thought process went like, "I'd rather just be a lesbian than bisexual." Now, let's think about why 15 year old Lindsey pushed against a bisexual identity. I rejected bisexuality because of the monosexist messages that society sent me.
For those that don't know what monosexism is, a simple definition is the normalization of monosexual identities while invalidating and invisibilizing non-monosexuality. Monosexism is the prevalent thought that you're either gay or you're straight; that bisexuals are really just confused and will eventually "pick a team."
If you think about it, bisexuals get a pretty shitty rep. They get accused of reinforcing the gender binary because of the widespread myth that all bisexuals are attracted to men and women and no one else. Bisexual women have to deal with the fetishization of their sexuality leading to the mentality that bisexual women exist for heterosexual male pleasure. Bisexual men are practically invisible and told that they can't exist. Bisexuals are portrayed as duplicitous, greedy, and promiscuous. These are the stereotypes I first encountered as a teenager and internalized as true. These are things I actively work on unlearning.

As a person that identifies as a political bisexual and personal pansexual, I experience monosexism everyday. And I really love making lists. So, here's a list of Everyday Monosexism!
1. Assuming someone is straight or gay/lesbian.
    I do it too. In a monosexist world we rarely look at someone and think they could be bisexual. I work on actively not assuming someone's sexuality - you end up looking like an idiot. Although, it can be fun to mess with this mentality. Whenever I encounter someone and they immediately read me as straight, I then go out of my way to confuse their perception of my sexuality. For instance, if they start asking me about a "boyfriend" I start using the word "partner." Occasionally (and if I'm bored), I'll tone down my femme around the person that thought I was straight, just to see if they'll still read me that way.
2. Asking if  a bisexual likes to have threesomes.
    Looking at you, straight dudes. The amount of men that suddenly think it's appropriate to ask me about threesomes (have you had one? can we have one?) is disgustingly appalling. I blame porn. It portrays girl-on-girl from the male gaze; as something that exists only for men. So, when a girl tries to make out with her girlfriend in public, a bunch of dudes think it's hot and for them. Dear straight men, not everything is for you. Also, I doubt you'd even know what to do in a threesome.
3. Straight dudes asking if they can watch
    So, I'm not sure how prevalent this one is, but it happens to me a lot. Some straight guy asks if we can have a threesome and I shoot him down. He then thinks it's appropriate to ask if he can watch me make out/fuck another girl. WHAT THE HELL. NO. This is just another example of straight dudes thinking that female bisexuality exists for them. It doesn't.
4. Bisexuals need attention.
    This relates back to dudes getting all excited about watching two girls make out. These guys think that all girls that make out with each other are doing it for attention. Newsflash: we're not. But on a less creepy level, I've come out as bisexual and heard the response (whispered, behind my back): "I don't know why she needs to tell us that. She must want attention." Um, I need to tell you that because you kept asking if I have a boyfriend and talking about boys and acting like I'm straight.
5. Bisexuals are immature.
    We hear it all the time. That we'll eventually pick a side. That we're only confused and too scared to come out of the closet. We don't want to commit to serious relationships so we're bi (no, really, I've heard this).
6. Bisexuals are slutty cheaters.
    Just because we're attracted to more than one gender doesn't mean we feel the need to have sex with everyone all the time. Like, holy shit, I don't get it. Do monosexuals feel the need to fuck every person of the gender they're attracted to all the time? I just don't understand the thought process of, "Oh, she's bi. So she must want to have sex with everyone 24/7." That sounds exhausting. Also, monosexuals can be promiscuous. Anyone can have lots and lots of sex. That isn't just for bisexuals. Isn't monosexism starting to sound mighty puritanical?
7. Bisexuals are polyamorous.
    Not all bisexuals are polyamorous. Bisexuals are just as capable of monogamy as a monogamous monosexual. Now, as a bi/pansexual that is polyamorous, I'd like to request that all monogamous monosexuls stop assuming that I'm polyamorous because I'm bi or that I'm bi because I'm polyamorous. Nope. Nope, not at all. If you keep doing that I'm just going to assume that all monosexuals are monogamous with monosyllable names and have mononucleiosis. Because that's just as ridiculous.
8. Bisexuals are disease-riddled.
    Speaking of mono...So from my understanding, this myth is largely related to the AIDs epidemic. Bisexual men were/are blamed for bringing AIDS into the heterosexual community while bisexual women are blamed for bringing AIDS to the lesbian community. It's really fucked up to blame a disease on an entire sexuality of people (this is also true for the fucked up ban on men who have sex with men from donating blood). Not all bisexuals have STIs. ANYONE CAN HAVE AN STI. As such, everyone should get tested at least once a year (as recommended by Planned Parenthood) and before they start having sex with a new partner. Being bisexual does not mean that we have unprotected sex and spread disease. Anyone can do that.
9. Bisexuals can't be harmed by homophobia.
    For some reason, monosexuals think that bisexuals aren't hurt by homophobic slurs. For instance, I was discussing that whole Duck Dynasty fiasco back in December (when that one guy was saying gays will burn in hell), and the person I was talking with was super confused as to why I was offended. Because apparently, there's a footnote in the Bible saying that bisexuals won't suffer the same damnation.
10. Bisexuals don't exist.
      Monosexuals tend to forget that bisexuals aren't straight. This has been called "straight passing privilege" but I prefer to call it "bierasure." Yes, bisexuals pass as straight, but for most out bisexuals, that isn't something they actively choose. It's assumed. It erases our bisexuality. On the flip side, bisexuals can also pass as homosexual depending on who they are with. For instance, one of my pan friends and I went out for sushi and fro-yo one night. Now, she wears her hair really short and passes as a lesbian. As a femme, I pass for straight like 99% of the time. Together, we look like a lesbian couple. But we're not. This is also bierasure.

Learning "Beauty"

When I was a little girl, I believed that my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was convinced that it was true. It's easy for me to remember what that felt like - the awe and admiration I felt towards my mom - it feels like her hugs and smells like her perfume.

Even now, I know that my mother is beautiful.

The problem is that no one believes me.

Society tells us to love and respect our mothers. That young women should look up to their mothers as female role models. We should try to live up to our mothers - except in the areas where she herself falls short. And for most women, they will never live up to society's standard for beautiful. I know my mother and I certainly do not - and I learned that from my mother.

As a girl, I would watch my mom get dressed and put on her make up. I would mimic her motions in the mirror with my pretend make up. Before ballet recitals, she and my grandmother would do my hair and put make up on me; it made me feel special and loved to have their attention as they made me "pretty."

As I grew older, I learned how to make myself "pretty." My mother and I would get dressed together and do our make up and hair in her bathroom. All the while, my mother teaching me what beauty means as she would comment on my appearance. Giving advice such as:
"We both have big hips and thighs, and let me tell you, you're going to constantly have to watch what you eat and work out because all of your fat will go straight to your hips and butt and that is never attractive."
"I think you're so much prettier when you're tan. But never dye your hair blonde it would look horrible with your complexion."
"Wear more concealer to cover all of that acne."
"You'll be so pretty when you're thin."
"Wearing that much eyeliner makes you look slutty. Why are you wearing such dark lipstick?"
"If you're really comfortable showing off your legs, I guess you can wear that skirt. I know I wouldn't be comfortable."
"Are you wearing a bra? I just don't understand how you're so flat chested."
"Why are you wearing a push-up bra?"

And the list goes on. Of course, I never really thought much of her comments because I'd heard her say similar things about herself. I figured it was part of growing into a woman. My mother helped teach me insecurity and self-judgement.

While I looked up to my mother and found her beautiful, she worried over her appearance. No matter how beautiful I found her, she would never see herself the way I saw her. As a child, I did not find her fat; I found her warm and comforting and would wake up in the mornings and crawl into her bed to cuddle. I still think she is prettiest first thing in the morning with bedhead, remnants of eyeliner and mascara that refused to wash away, and in a baggy t-shirt. Of course no magazine would ever deem my mother at 9 am on a Saturday beautiful. They'd tell her to brush her hair, put on a full face of make up, and to consider hitting the gym more often. As I consumed trashy magazines and TV, I heard, what seemed to be the world, telling me that my mother was not beautiful. That I was not beautiful. As I watched my mother get ready for dates, I learned that the mom I saw on a daily basis was not beautiful enough for hetero-male attention. As I watched my mother date assholes, I heard them tell her she was pretty, but she could be prettier.

And she heard it, too.

As my mom battled with her insecurities, I battled my own. I learned how to hate my body from someone I found gorgeous. I slowly stopped seeing my mother and myself as beautiful. When I looked at my mom, I saw an overweight, aging woman. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a pudgy thirteen year old. When my mom dieted, I dieted with her. When my mom worked out, I worked out with her. It was mother-daughter bonding.

However, as an easily impressionable teenager desperate to be pretty and liked (because in my teenage brain the only way I'd ever be worth anything would be through beauty), I went farther than simply eating healthily and working out for fun and health. While my mom kept dieting and exercising safely, I went to the extreme. I stopped seeing our diet and exercise as "bonding," it became a competition. My mother became my competition. So I cut more calories, ran longer, and eventually became thin. While I started as a pudgy 8th grader that needed to learn about healthy eating and get more active, I ended as a thin, obsessive high school graduate. Before, my mom would say, "You'll be so pretty when you're thin." But when I was seventeen and went down two jean sizes in a month and a half, her previous sentiment transformed into "But you're already so thin..." Now when I talk to my mother about my eating disorder, she says that she knew something was wrong, but she never did anything. While I never push on why she never acted, I feel as if I know the answer. I think her inaction was because she saw me succeed at being "pretty." Where she had failed, I had succeeded. While she had soft curves and took up space, I had sharp edges and size 0 jeans - the 0 as empty as my stomach.

I don't blame my mother for my eating disorder. Eating disorders are far too complicated to "blame" on any single factor.

However, I do point fingers at the current standard of beauty. It taught my mother and me that we are not beautiful on our own. It taught me that my mother was not beautiful just as it taught my mother that she needed to make me beautiful. This beauty standard told me that I was not supposed to aspire to look like my mother no matter how pretty I found her.

All children find their mothers to be beautiful because mothers are beautiful - for mothers. Society tells us that our mothers are beautiful but they are not beautiful women - they are not the beauty to which we should aspire. We are taught not to love our curves, our touching thighs, wrinkles, or our bedhead. There's no high school class teaching us to see beauty in someone's laugh or passion or generosity. When I come across an article on "how to play up your best attributes" I know it's going to tell me how to draw attention to my tits or ass or if it's a more "enlightened" author it will talk about my smile or eyes. That article isn't going to tell me how to show off my great sense of humor or intelligence. Even though my mom thinks I'm funny and smart, society tells me that it really just doesn't care.

But what if our mothers were the standard for beauty? Surely then we would be less shallow about beauty. My mother is beautiful not simply based on her outside appearances but also from her comforting, her tenacity, and her spirit.