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.

Magazines and Confused Girls

For the last few days I've been grappling with the fact that I spend a lot of time thinking about dating and sex. In fact, I write and post a lot about it on my tumblr. I've been trying to come to terms with being so focused on dating and sex on the one hand and feminist on the other.

To further explain: I fully believe that part of the patriarchal cis-tem is to socialize girls to be obsessed with dating. Mainstream women's magazines are built and sustained on this socialization. As a consumer of this socialization, I immersed myself into women's magazines from a young age.

I started at 10 with the magazine that American Girl (yes, the same company as the dolls) published aimed at preteens. Mostly, I was intrigued by the cartoon drawings and I liked having something new to read every month. As I entered puberty though, I appreciated the magazine (and the books the company also published) for its honest and unashamed look at puberty and the beginning of all those messy sexy feelings. It was great to read it in a magazine that other girls were reading. It made me feel not so alone in all of my weird body issues that were going on. (Disclaimer: I'm not saying American Girl is a wonderful organization because it most certainly has its own galaxy of fucked up-ness). Reading this magazine was more appealing to me than asking my mom for information about sex or puberty because well...

Now, my mom was a very open and communicative parent when it came to telling me about sex, getting my period, and puberty. When I was three, she was pregnant with my little brother so she decided it was time to teach me about sex...using a medical textbook. I knew about the mechanics of heterosex before I could pronounce "vagina" (I called it a "magenta" which I am still partial toward). In kindergarten, when we were learning about body parts, I demanded to know about the genitals of the genital-less diagram body we were using "Is is a boy? If it's a boy it needs a penis" (Hooray for learning cissexism). At 13, my mother taught me how to use condoms with the help of some bananas. I knew I had the support system to ask my mother questions about sex.

Actually, no. 

I could ask her questions about heterosex. Because by the time I was 14 I was fully aware of my mother's homophobia. At the age of 5, I asked my mom why my friend, Jordan, had two mommies, but I didn't. I was envious. I wanted two moms and was very disappointed in my mother for giving me a father but not a second mother. My mother's explanation was that Jordan's moms were different, that they were lesbians, and that's why Jordan didn't have a dad. Since my mom wasn't (and still isn't) a lesbian, I couldn't have two mommies; instead my mom liked boys the way she loved my dad whereas as Jordan's moms liked girls the way they love each other. I then declared that I must be a lesbian because I don't like boys, I like girls. (I was on the right track at least...) My mother's face paled at that declaration and she said that I was too young to know and that as I got older I would like boys the way my mom loved my dad. At the age of 14, I really got to hear my mother's homophobia. While we were discussing same-sex marriage, she professed that being gay is a choice and is absolutely unnatural. As a sexually confused 14 year old, I shut up at the realization that if I was gay my mother would probably send me to a religiously backed camp to turn my straight (did I mention this conversation was in a church parking lot?).

Since it was apparent I couldn't go to my mother for advice or guidance regarding my confused feelings, I turned to magazines. After all, magazines had guided me through puberty, why would they fail me now? I read ElleGirl, CosmoGirl, Seventeen, and Cosmo. As I searched for answers (primarily to the question if every girl felt the way I felt about my best friend), I absorbed the latest fashion trends, how to put on eyeshadow, and how to flirt with boys. There was nothing useful (no, I take that back, I did learn about fingering and cunnilingus and for that I am grateful).

These magazines were marketed as possessing all the sexual knowledge a modern woman could ever need. But there was nothing about being...what exactly? I knew I wasn't a lesbian because guys turned me on, but I knew I wasn't straight because I was certain not everyone felt the way I felt in the girls locker room (apart from the body embarrassment, that seemed almost universal). Occasionally there would be a shout out to lesbians or bisexuals, but nothing about coming out or how to deal with homophobia. If these magazines that existed solely for doling out fashion, dating, and sex advice didn't regularly talk about my burgeoning sexuality then, teenage me deduced, my sexuality must not exist.

The media taught me that lesbians were dangerous, manly women. My family added to this by never uttering the word "lesbian" and if it was it was either said with disgust or at a whisper. I didn't want to be feared or unliked in that way. Whenever I encountered bisexuality it was Britney kissing Madonna for attention, my junior high friends making out with each other to the cheers of boys, it was a passing moment done for the male gaze. If a tree falls in a forest with no one around, does it make a sound? If a "straight" girl makes out with another girl without a man around, does bisexuality really exist? In high school, my answer was "no." So I pretended to be straight. I rationalized any and all crushes I would get on people not male-identified.

This is a very drawn out way of understanding why I write and think so much about dating and sex as a queer woman. Because I lie awake at night and think about what could have been if I had had resources in high school about being LGBTQUIA+. What if I my family wasn't a bunch of pseudo-religious homophobes? What if my high school wasn't so fucking heterosexist, sexist, and homophobic? What if I had actually lived in a community that supported queer people? What if when I had tried doing internet research about my confused feelings I didn't just get a bunch of porn (thus making me terrified of ever trying to research that again)? What would my life had been like if I had learned about pansexuality before I was twenty years old (because even though I accepted I was most likely bisexual for lack of a better term, that identification never resonated enough with me to encourage me to come out)?

I'm writing for that fourteen year old girl who is scared to think about her sexuality because her mom thinks being gay is a choice. I spend so much time thinking about dating and sex in my own life because for so many years, I was never allowed or capable of even imagining a pansexual, polyamorous life. My focus on dating and sex isn't part of my patriarchal socialization, it's part of my un-socialization. I write about it and post about it because it disrupts all the heterosexist bullshit that gets shoved down the throats of teenage girls.

Morals and Gynecology, Part II

For those that haven't read my blog post about a shitty time with a gynecologist, y'all should do so now.

As a sexually active woman, I take the necessary precautions to avoid STDs. I use condoms; I've DIYd dental dams; I get tested regularly. Let me restate that, I use condoms 100% of the time but I still get tested every 4-6 months. This is mostly because I'm paranoid and some STDs do not present noticeable symptoms.

This morning, I called my doctor's office to order blood work for an STD test since I hadn't had one since January. A couple hours later, I got a phone call from a nurse practitioner; not my primary care provider. First, she called to let me know that my primary care provider ordered the lab tests so I'd be all set to go into the lab and get the STD test done.
Then she launched into a lecture. And kept calling me sweetie. Here's some paraphrasing of that "conversation."

NP: Now, Lindsey, you're 21 years old.
Me: Yes, yes I am. Thank you for reminding me. This is the part where my extended family asks why I'm not married, but I'm guessing you aren't going to do that.
NP: Well, it's looking like your last STD test was in January and you had one before that in September. So it's looking like you might be engaging in some risky behaviors. Sweetie, are you protecting yourself?
Me: Yes, those are the last times I had STD tests (internal thought: you also forgot to mention the one last June...). And yes, I do use protection when I'm having sex.
NP: How?
Me: Well...the usual way...condoms...
NP: Every time?
Me: Yes. Unless I'm having sex with a woman, and in that case, no...
NP: Sweetie, if you're always using protection you don't need to get STD tests so often. Are you changing partners a lot?
Me: (thinking: define a lot...#polyamory...)I was always taught that even if you use condoms you should still get regularly tested, just in case. And yes, I do change partners (why does this now sound like square dancing?)
NP: Oh! Well, changing partners often is very risky. And I've never heard of getting tested even when using condoms, you know condoms are extremely effective...
Me: Yes, condoms are extremely effectively, however, I am cautious so I get tested. I'm not saying that...
NP: And you know, getting STDs are bad for women. Some of them can affect your fertility and you might not be able to have babies. And STDs can hurt a lot. You should really consider...
Me: Yes, I know what STDs do, I volunteer teaching contraception, so trust me, I am very well aware. In fact, that's how I know I should get tested regularly.
NP: Oh, well, I guess you would really know! And I'll double check with your primary care provider about getting tested so often...
Me: You do that. And how about you don't lecture people about their sexuality based on your assumptions?
NP: I wasn't trying to lecture you, sweetie, I'm just concerned.
Me: Your concern is condescending. Thank you for letting me know I can go get the tests.

Now, I understand why someone getting STD tests on a regular basis can look alarming on a health chart. I understand why I might receive a phone call to make sure I'm not having unprotected sex every four months. However, when I first called to ask for the tests, the woman I talked to asked if I had any recent exposure to STDs and I TOLD HER NO, THAT I WAS MERELY BEING CAUTIOUS AND WANTED TO MAKE SURE I DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING.
Why on earth this random nurse practitioner felt the need to concern herself with the rest of my sexual habits was unnecessary and intrusive. She implied that I should be concerned about my future fertility. She fucking assumed that because I have a uterus, I will later want children. I DO NOT WANT CHILDREN. Of course, I'd rather get a tubal ligation than contract an STD to make me sterile. Also, she said absolutely nothing about the fact that I also have sex with people who are not men. She just danced right around that one. In fact, if she had actually engaged with the fact that I'm not straight, she might not have felt the need to lecture me about my future babymaking potential. And WHY THE FUCK DID SHE HAVE TO KEEP CALLING ME SWEETIE SHE DOESN'T KNOW ME. It's not endearing. It's condescending. Fuck, my own mother; hell, my own grandmother, doesn't call me "sweetie." Anyone that has met me could attest to the fact that I am not a person you call sweetie (the only person who calls me sweetie is my grandfather, and he is the only person allowed to do that). I am also concerned by the fact that this nurse practitioner doesn't think sexually active adults should be tested for STDs on a regular basis, even if they use condoms. What kind of dream world does she live in where everyone correctly uses condoms 100% of the time? I'm also NOT HER PATIENT. What. The. Fuck. If you're going to give me "health advice" at least be my doctor. Also, make sure your health advice isn't seeped in misogynistic, paternalistic judgement.

poly/bi/pan??!?!?!

Today, I've taken on the daunting task of recording (and responding) all the fucked up shit I get told about my sexuality on a fairly regular basis.
If you'd like some mood music for your reading, I recommend this playlist on 8tracks.

1. "What's pansexual?"
A: I get asked this ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME. Do I look like Google? Am I Wikipedia? No, no I am not. Go watch this Laci Green video. And leave me alone.

2. "Does that mean you're attracted to everyone?" 
A: This is usually asked with concern like "Are you the Energizer Bunny? How do deal with that much lust?" or is asked suggestively. So, first off, if you're asking me this I'm probably not attracted to you (trust me, I'm not subtle when I try to pick someone up). But if I do think you're hot: Well, like the Energizer Bunny, I have been known to go all night long ;) 
(See what I mean about not subtle?) 

3. "You'll never have a sustainable relationship like that."
A: You mean I'll never have a sustainable relationship with you. I'm heartbroken.
Oh, and monogamy has been working out soooo well (cough 50% divorce rate cough). And you don't know my life or my partners or my future (if you do know my future, we should chat).

4. "How do you expect men to respect you if you act like such a skank?"
A: Well, by treating me like a sexually active (ok, very sexually active) person. Emphasis on the person. Respecting people has nothing to do with sexual history or partners. Anyone who is basing their respect for me on my sex life is not a person I respect. I want people in my life that respect me for my ideas, my strength, my character (which lol isn't dependent on my sexuality), and me as a whole person.
Obvi, you're jelly of my sex life :)

5. "So....do you wanna have a threesome?" -every straight dude that has tried to get into my pants
A: Not with you :)

6. "Aren't you basically just bi?"
A: No :) 

7. "What about any kids you'll have?"
A: Ew. Who said I was having kids? Wait are you pregnant with my baby? I know I'm not pregnant. I'm pretty sure you care about my hypothetical children more than I do.

8. "How many people have you fucked?"
A: None of your goddamn business :)

9. "Does being pan mean that you want to fuck everything? Like not just people?"
A: No. Sit down. Stop talking. Queer =/= bestiality/pedophilia/etc. 

10. "But there are only 2 genders..."
A: Go take a Gender Studies class. 

11. "So does that mean you're a cheater?"
A: No. Cheating is when someone has sex with another person without their partner knowing. Polyamory is an agreement between partners based on consent and trust. Try reading The Ethical Slut if you're interested in learning more.

12. "But  I thought all poly people were like ugly couples, but you're, like, hot...."
A: And I thought that all monogamous, straight dudes were close-minded, shallow, bigots, but you're, like, oh...wait....

13. "If you aren't attracted to someone's gender what are you attracted to?"
A: Well, not pan or bi person, PEOPLE AREN'T JUST THEIR GENDER. What makes you attracted to people? Why are you assuming that I spend my time analyzing what I'm attracted to. I'm attracted to people. Not just men. Not just women. Not just non-binary people. People. Bam! Done analyzing. This reminds me of when people ask me....

14. "When did you know you were pan?"
A: When did you know you were straight? 

15: "You just have commitment problems, that's why you're poly, right?"
A: Well, it does take a lot for me to commit, but that's not it. Monogamy seriously stresses me out. Like, having someone be that territorial over me to the point that I can't explore relationships with other people seriously makes me anxious. But what if I meet someone really great and I can have a relationship with them that provides different things that I can't get out of my primary relationship? How can I just pass that by? It also seems to me that monogamy is based on this idea that love and sex are finite. Newsflash: love and sex aren't fossil fuels; we aren't going to run out of them. And so knowing that I have a lot of love (and sex) to give, being in a monogamous relationship doesn't make sense to me. There is no way I could share all of my love (or sex) with one person. Like that would be ridiculously smothering. I also don't expect someone to give me all of their love or sex (because again that would be ridiculously smothering and I'd probably want to kill them). And I don't want to rely on one person to provide for all my emotional, physical, and mental needs, and I certainly don't want to be the only person doing that for another. That's just so draining and unrealistic.
Also, you're monogamous because you have abandonment issues, right? 

That's all I can think of for now...
If you have any, feel free to comment!

I will not be silenced (TW rape)

I've had it. I'm officially really fucking pissed.
At you.
You know who you are.
You like to tell survivors and activists to censor themselves.
You say things like:
"When you say negative things about *organization/person* that reflects poorly on me because people connect me with you." 
"Why can't you just be polite? I'm not asking you to like them, but can't you just be supportive?"
"You're really not going to get anywhere being so angry."
"Individually, they're great people. Why can't you give them a break?"
"Well, they've only ever been nice to me. Maybe if you weren't so mean they'd be nicer to you."
Or any variation thereof.
First off, FUCK YOU.
Asking me to be NICE or to SUPPORT or to at the very least NOT SAY "NEGATIVE" THINGS about an organization that sheltered and supported and never kicked out my rapist is BULLSHIT.
My loud disapproval of organizations that support rape culture by being bystanders to rape and affiliating with rapists is NOT something that should be silenced. 
YOU should be silenced. 
YOU should reevaluate your relationships with people. 
YOU should ask yourself if you really want to be friends with a rapist. 
YOU should ask yourself if you want to be affiliated with an organization that implicitly condones sexual violence and misogyny.
YOU SHOULD BE QUIET.
not me. 
not the survivors. 
not the allies. 

The best way you can do good in the world is to not be friends with rapists or support organizations that foster rape culture. But if you can't do that, you can disaffiliate yourself from me (because chances are, I already don't associate with you).

Story of Self

A program I was applying for asked me to share my "story of self" as an explanation of my leadership and passion. I figured I might as well share it with the internet. 

Growing up, I was surrounded with noise. More specifically, I constantly heard yelling - the yelling of neighborhood kids, their parents yelling, my parents yelling - the noise of people trying to be heard. I tried to yell or cry or scream to be heard above the din. But when I was heard, the response was not always positive. If I voiced concern about my parents yelling, one or both parents would tell me not to be concerned, that everything was fine.

Maintaining the semblance of “everything is fine” remained with me as I grew older. I quickly learned that if I expressed that I was not fine, adults and my peers would not listen to me. Instead, they would panic and try to reassure me that I was actually fine. In my Bible class, if I said I was insecure in my faith, my teacher would tell me to simply silence my doubts. I pretended that I was able to do that while remaining agnostic internally. Looking back, I was constantly being told how to feel. The women in my life, as well as society, told me to be ashamed of my body. If I contested, they would simply point out the ways my body was not perfect. When I told my youth pastor that I thought the boys in my Bible study were sexist, she told me they weren’t, but that they were living biblical lives. I quickly learned to question my feelings and experiences. I learned to stop voicing my authentic feelings and experiences and instead parrot what I was told to feel and experience.

Eventually, I was not only lying to others, but also to myself. As I internalized the shame I was taught to feel about my body, I lied to myself (I’m not hungry, I’m not working out too much). As I listened to my family and community preach homophobia and heterosexism, I lied to myself (I don’t like her that way, I only like boys, it’s just a phase). I also watch my friends lie to themselves. When my best friend was bullied and called racial slurs, I watched her ignore the actions and even deny the attacks. She told me that she was fine. I did not know what to do, I was unsure if I should speak up for her since it appeared that she simply wanted to issue to disappear. In the end, I didn’t say anything.

Getting to college, I no longer had my family around to monitor my emotions. I was also in a more accepting environment than my socially conservative high school and family. Suddenly, I had friends asking me, “How are you? No, really, how are you?” There were people listening. They also taught me how to listen. My first year, I joined the cast of The Vagina Monologues and learned how to make an entire audience listen. Through positive experiences with friends as well as gender studies coursework, I grew more comfortable talking about my experiences. I unlearned the internalized lie: “I’m fine.” I was breaking my silence by becoming active in Greek Life and my Women’s and Gender Studies classes.

The beginning of the spring semester of my third year of college, I was silenced again. My protests and yelling “Stop” and “No” were not heard. I hated being silenced. No one was going to ignore me and my feelings. For a month and a half I fought to make my voice and experience heard working through the Title IX system and against efforts to silence me. Ultimately, my efforts worked as I had the perpetrator removed from school. However, I was not done being heard. A few weeks later, it was revealed that his fraternity was posting misogynistic and violent posts on their “secret” Facebook page. I joined a group of students to protest the fraternity in an effort to make sure that the administration held them accountable.

I also began speaking up for others. This year, I directed a show to replace The Vagina Monologues. This production, The Willamette Monologues, was completely student written and performed. Students, myself included, shared monologues about their experiences with heterosexism, racism, transphobia, sexual assault, and other experiences of oppression. I am continuing to speak against privilege.

Part of speaking up is also being silent. As a community, we need to take time to listen to each other, especially the voices of the marginalized. While listening, we must also take care to not invalidate the feelings or experiences of others. The only way to truly understand injustice in the world, is to either live it or listen to those with the experience. In order to combat injustice, collective action is necessary. Not only collective action, but also that the oppressed lead because if privileged people, the loudest voices, talk over the marginalized the privileged are not helping. Rather they are speaking for others and trying to save them. Leadership and social justice work is not about saving people; it is about lessening injustice and oppression. This requires an understanding that, if you are privileged, your leadership may perpetuate oppression. A classic example of this is the white mainstream feminist movement, especially during the “second wave.” These feminists thought they were helping all women when in fact, they were harming women of color as well as queer women. Social justice work must quiet the room so that the silent voices are heard.

Also, I recognize that I'm not always silent when I should be or I don't speak up when I should. I'm still learning and I apologize for any harm or hurt this has caused. 

And the last paragraph sounds like a bad high school essay because, let's face it, I was applying for a post grad program and they eat that shit up. 

An Open Letter to Straight People Advocating for Safe Sex

Hey there,

Let me start off by saying: I love safe sex. I talk about it all the time. The number of impromptu condom demonstrations, birth control discussions, and random sex talks I've had with people is a little ridiculous. I wrote my thesis on sex education. Safe sex and I are tight.

Which is why it makes me want to scream when all I hear about is how to have safe hetero-sex.

Do you think that only straight people have sex?
What do you think sex is? No, really, I want you to define sex for me right now.
If your definition involved the word penetrate, I'm going to ask you to sit the fuck down.

I'm really fucking sick of hearing about contraception as if the only thing we're trying to protect ourselves from are babies.
I'm also really fucking sick of only hearing about condoms.

I want to hear more about:
-dental dams (or even how to turn condoms into dental dams)
-latex gloves (you know in case you have a cut on your hand but would still like to pleasure your partner)
-lube (why the fuck aren't we talking about lube??)
-CONSENT

HOLY SHIT WHY AREN'T WE TALKING ABOUT CONSENT?!?!?!
And not just between straight folks. I mean between EVERYONE. For EVERYTHING. It isn't safe sex if you use a condom but didn't get enthusiastic consent (that's called rape...).

Also, RAPE DOESN'T HAVE TO HAPPEN WITH A PENIS. Why aren't we talking about that?

And just to put this into perspective, a lot of fucking things don't require penises.

I want to hear less about penises and more about pleasure and communication and understanding and respect. I'd prefer that if you don't know how to ask your partner what they want and how they want it, that you go take that fucking condom off. If you can't talk with your partner in a mature and respectful way about sex and wants and needs and triggers and boundaries than you shouldn't be having sex.

But where is that conversation?
Especially for the LGBTQ+ community?

Oh my dear straight ally so committed to safe sex and healthy relationships, do you think that LGBTQ+ folk are immune to abusive relationships? Do you think that those relationships have the same issues as straight relationships? Did you even think about LGBTQ+ people and their needs and wants? I'm betting you forgot about us.

I'm so fucking sick of all of this heterosexist, cissexist, borderline misogynistic bullshit I hear in the safe sex and healthy relationship conversation.

Where are the conversations for navigating relationships with partners with different value systems? Or navigating the relationship between a straight person and a pan or bisexual person (because trust me that is a whole trough of complicated fuckery)?

Dear straight person, I'm also assuming that you're monogamous. Have you even considered that not everyone abides by monogamy? That some people identify as polyamorous which makes our safe sex and healthy relationships look different from yours.

If there are so many different needs and wants and problems and questions that are outside of the heterosexual cis-stem, why the FUCK do I have to keep hearing the needs and wants and problems and questions of cis-gendered heteros?

Stop perpetuating this bullshit. I'm sick of it.

I'm especially sick and tired of it when people fucking TELL YOU that you're being heteronormative. When your ideas and programs are fucking called out for being heterosexist!
Yet you do nothing.
Even though you claim to be so open minded and an ally.
If you aren't going to do the work, then stop calling yourself an ally. You're an embarrassment for the rest of the allies that actually give a fuck and put in the work.
You can't be committed to equality if you never even consider (especially when you're called out on it) how your actions and words and even your fucking presence and the amount of fucking space you take up and the fact that you fucking monopolize a conversation that you aren't even part of but now you're in it because you fucking barged in and just sat down acting like you own it....how all of that fucking shit I have to see and deal with is actually harmful.

At first, I wanted to help you out. I wanted you to get better. I believe in the human capacity to change, and I still think that one day you will change. But you aren't. You're stagnant. And until you change completely and for the better, imma ask you to get the fuck out because you are suffocating me with your heterosexist, monogamist privileged, straight ass.

Take your condoms and your basic ass and leave me the hell alone.

Responses to things I'm tired of hearing

It's happened. I've reached the point where I can't just shrug off certain phrases that I hear on a fairly regular basis.
Last week, a guy hit on me while I was at work, and instead of just doing the standard, non-committal shrug and smile, I just stared at him with the cold, dead eyes of an unamused woman.
My maximum bullshit tolerance has been reached, and as such, I am providing some of my favorite responses to the most obnoxious pieces of bullshitery I hear. Some of the responses, I have used. Others are things I thought of later (I hate when that happens!).

1. "You're so pretty when you smile. You should smile more." Or any variation thereof. 
Ugh, you're pretty when you shut the fuck up. Or: I'll smile when you leave because then I'll be happy. Or that time when the cashier at Costco told me to smile and I said: "Well, I would but I'm pretty sure smiling is your job and not telling your customers what to do."

2. "I really couldn't care less that you're bi. It really doesn't mean that much to your personality." 
Fuck off. Also, I'm not bi, I'm pan, so go fuck off some more. Oh, and my sexuality means A LOT to my identity so when you say that you "couldn't care less," I'm taking that to mean that you couldn't care less about me as a person. Which means, you guessed it, FUCK OFF.
Oh and when I told said person this, his reply was: "Well, you're a bitch and that makes you a bad person, not your sexual orientation."
My response? A smile :)

3. "You're so pretty why don't you have a boyfriend?" 
Unamused face.
Oh, and thank you sooooo much for caring about my personality. Because apparently I'm a bitch.

4. "Have you ever considered being nicer?"
Yes, but then someone's an asshole and it takes way more energy for me to be nice than it does for me to be a bitch. If I need to apologize for said behavior later, I will. But I'm not going to alter my personality for someone who is acting in such a way that hurts me.

That's all I have for now...If you think of another insufferable phrase or sentiment that I didn't list here, feel free to let me know and I'll respond :)

OH...Oh YES...Baby

Oh baby, oh baby, yes, there. I hope you read that in the most monotonous voice possible because I'm going to share my thoughts on fake orgasms. Also known as false performance reviews.

As a cis-woman, this is coming from my experience with fake orgasms. I think I speak for a number of cis-women when I say that at some point we have faked orgasms. I'm also assuming that the hypothetical fake orgasm is occurring within consensual sex.

Let me begin with an anecdote of one time I faked an orgasm. The reasons behind this instance of pretend orgasming are representative of every other time I've faked it.

It was booty call hour (aka between 11 PM and daylight) and I was horny (we've all been there), so I contacted a guy that I was 90% sure found me attractive and was DTF. Now, I am not subtle. It's never been my thing. It's why I would make a horrible politician and/or spy. This is why my intentions for communicating became clear within the first 3 texts. Long story short, he came over. For further context, this was the first time I had sex with this person (and last *cough*) AND I hadn't had sex in about 11 weeks (but who's counting?). So, y'all can imagine how this went. Two overzealous, horny twenty-somethings with no knowledge of the other person's body having sex. It wasn't good. I tried resuscitating this failing sex in an attempt to get me an orgasm, but it wasn't working. After giving it my all, I had to admit defeat and let out a series of moans, pelvic thrusts, and the proper facial expression.

Why did I do this? Why didn't I just say: "Hey, I know you're trying really hard and that you're having a great time, but could you wrap this up? I'm just not going to orgasm. We can try something else, but we've been at this for awhile and I kind of want to go to bed. Thanks!"
Well, for a number of reasons:
1. The sex wasn't bad. Just because I wasn't going to orgasm didn't mean I wasn't enjoying myself.
2. That's a really awkward conversation to have while someone is inside of you.
3. And since this was the first time we were fucking, it was already pretty fucking awkward.
4. He seems like one of those guys that would get upset about not making me come. Like he was really trying. He was so enthusiastic and eager to please that I could just imagine his face drop at the realization that he didn't make me come. I'm a bitch, but I'm not completely heartless.
5. It takes less energy to fake an orgasm than it does to explain that you aren't going to come.

This brings up a number of points:
1. Orgasms aren't always the point of sex!
2. We (or at least I) need to figure out ways to communicate during sex without feeling awkward.
3. First time sex is awkward. But we have to overcome the awkward in order to communicate and have better sex.
4. Partners: it isn't the job of the not orgasming partner to make you feel better about the fact that they didn't come. While some partners are cool with that, I personally don't like babysitting another person's ego regarding their sexual prowess. I totally understand that it sucks when you can't get your partner off, but use it as a learning experience. Ask what you could do better next time and if the other person is ok with not orgasming. Also understand that just because your partner didn't orgasm, doesn't mean they didn't enjoy themselves.
5.  If you don't feel comfortable telling someone you aren't going to orgasm or wanting to put in the energy to explain why you aren't going to orgasm, you probably shouldn't be fucking the person you are currently fucking. So, I probably shouldn't have fucked that guy, but sometimes it's late at night, I'm horny, and kinda sick of using my vibrator.

Faking an orgasm isn't necessarily bad. It's not a good thing either. I think it should be used as a last resort. Usually I try to ask myself: "Do I want to put the energy into this as a way to increase my chances for better sex with this person later? If yes, use your words. If no, go ahead and fake it.