Female and Breathing

Feministing: Fuck You, Perverts!

2008-05-26T19:45:00.000-07:00

Every Friday, the amazing women at Feministing.com post a "Fuck You" to any anti-feminist assholes who deserve it.

This one by Feministing-founder Jessica Valenti is about public perverts, like those who skeezily ask girls out more for a power trip than for an actual personal connection.

FYI, the first time I ever saw a penis, I was in third grade on the DART train with my family. We were on the way to the aquarium when I turned around and saw a man slowly rubbing his exposed penis and staring at me. I was so shocked and scared that I only told my mother after he got off the train. Outrageous.

Look, I know this behavior only exists in a tiny fraction of men. But when we live in a world where women are judged by their breast-size first and their intellect last, we create a culture that includes men like this. Perverts are not an anomaly - they're a symptom.

So help us fix the problem.

A One-sided Conversation

2008-03-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when I go to a bar to order a drink, a man will insist on buying it for me. I really hate that. Don’t get me wrong, I like free stuff as much as the next person. But I don’t like feeling obligated to “pay the guy back” by talking to him or giving him my number.

To prevent this awkward situation, I try to respectfully refuse free drinks from strangers. It has never worked. Not once. I have NEVER told a man, “No, no thank you, I’ll get it myself,” and had him back off the way I want him to. Instead of feeling flattered, I feel ignored.

So here is my voice. This is my half of a conversation held Friday at a bar in St. Louis.If I can't be heard in person, I'll be heard here. (The stuff in parenthesis is what I’m really thinking.):

Hi.
(Oh, shit.)
Ya, I like this band, too. They’re pretty cool.
My name? Lindsay. You?
(Maybe I should have told him a fake name?)
Hi Randy, nice to meet you.
(Hi, 45-year-old man sitting alone at a bar. I’m not sure why you’ve chosen to hit on me, but I can’t see this going well for you.)
Um, I think I’m gunna order a Coffee Stout. I’ve never had it, but I thought I’d...
(Shit, that was a mistake. He thinks that was an invitation. I was just trying to make conversation!)
Wait, oh, no, you don’t have to order it for me.
(What the fuck, you just turned your back on me to “do me a favor.” Get out of my god-damned way, sir, and I’ll get my drink myself. I’ve done this before!)
No, if you’ll just let me by, I’ll order it myself.
What?
Oh, they ran out?
(Thank god. I’ll move up now and get something myself.)
Oh. OK, well, I’ve been drinking Wheach beer tonight, I’ll see if they…
Wait, no, I can get it.
(Oi! Loser! Move!)
No really, I’ll order.
Oh, thanks.
(Fuck. Now I have to awkwardly talk to you till my drink comes.)
My boyfriend?
(Really? You wanna ask about my boyfriend? I have a feeling you’re hoping I don’t have one. Why are you pretending to be interested in me?)
Oh, he’s down at the end of the bar. Our friends are playing tonight, so…
What? I’m very beautiful?
(Of course I’m beautiful. It’s dark, you’re drunk, and I’m half your age. It’d be hard for you to NOT find me beautiful in these conditions.)
Oh, um, thank you. That’s really nice. Oh, look here’s my drink, I’ll just…
(If I pull out money, he’ll back off.)
No. Here I’ll get it.
(He’s not backing off. Maybe if I shout.)
NO! Hey, no, no thanks man I can…
(What is this idiot deaf? Does it sound like I want this, dude?)
Um, thanks. Well.
(OK, there’s no way he’d go to all the trouble to get me a drink while I’m shouting at him unless he wanted something. So now what? Do I owe him something? Would it be rude to walk away, the way I want to? After all, I didn’t choose to interact with him this way. This isn’t what I wanted.)
Ya, ya gotta get back to the boyfriend. Um, thanks for the drink.
(Thanks fo’ nuthin, sucker.)

A story from the war

2008-03-20T20:21:00.000-07:00

In honor of the 5th anniversary of the war, check out this must-read blog-post from a female naval officer in Iraq and the sexual harrassment she recieves from fellow-Americans.
I have a hard time believing in a war to "liberate" the Iraqi people when our male military personel are oppressing our women.

BUST

2008-03-11T22:26:00.000-07:00

Exciting news!
This blog has been added to Bust Magazines list of links.
Thanks y'all!

Two quick hits

2008-03-04T08:41:00.001-08:00

-I walked into a gas station the other day to hear a man yell: "Git yo'self a white girl! I'm telling you. They're easier!" Shocked, I stopped and turned toward the counter to see two men staring at me. We were the only people in the store. I tried to decide whether I should turn and leave or go about getting my soda. Before I could decide, the other guy replied to his friend: "Nah, I got me a white girl. And she's still trouble."

-Went to an amazing concert in St. Louis this weekend. There was one guy, though, who kept spilling beer on me and stepping on my feet. I tried to avoid him, but about half-way through the concert, he walked towards me, took of his shirt to reveal his tattoos (one says "Creep", the other "Antisocial") and stared at me. Just stared at me. Up and down. Down and up. Eyes all over my body. Stared. I closed my sweater, hoping he'd go away, but it made no difference. I wasn't even wearing anything revealing. But he just stared.

Look out for this guy!

2008-02-14T19:55:00.000-08:00

I got a horrifying email from a sorority sister today.
“Not to scare you,” she writes, but a man in a red truck started parking down the street from our sorority house. He picked a spot in front of a small house where two girls live, and he pulls up every night around 8:30.
One night, the girls looked up and saw the guy standing in their window. When this creeper saw that they had a guy inside, he ran away and put a large object in his truck.
The girls called the police. They said the man is from Butler and has been driving into town to watch them. Cops told them to call next time they see him.
(Question: Wouldn’t it be better to just send a cop car in that vicinity around 8 pm to prevent an attack? Apparantly not. Just wondering.)
Last night, one of the girls drove home to find his truck parked out front. Again.
This chick is a bad-ass. She blocked the guy in and called the cops, demanding that they come take him away.
A different cop showed up this time.
He let the guy go. After all, the guy didn’t do anything, the cop said.
“He just got in a fight with his wife and needed to think,” he said.
In the words of my sorority sister: “Conveniently outside of two cute girls’ house? Weird.”
People roll their eyes when I say that women are treated as lessser humans compared to men. But think for a minute. This police officer had testimony from two people:
A) A man who drove from Butler and parked in front of the house of some random college girls, and
B) Two young women with police reports and eye-witnesses proving the suspect was a potential threat.
And this cop chose A. In a world where women are attacked and sexually assaulted and abused, where men make up an overwhelming proportion of perpetrators of violent crime, especially gendered violence – this cop chose A.
One more day of fear for a potential victim. One more day of privilege for a potential perpetrator.
You have to ask why.
Happy Valentine’s Day.

Spittin' game

2008-02-10T22:04:00.000-08:00

Z.A.P. played a killer show last night at the Blue Fugue. It ended late, and as I headed to my car, I heard a group of guys behind me.
I was alone. I got a bit worried and crossed the street. Then, I heard it.
"Yo, dudes, check out this chick!"
"Hey, momma, whatch'u doin?"
"Girl, get over here, lemme holla atch'ya"
Imagine dealing with this every single time you go out. As a woman, I live in a world where walking alone at night means potential danger on every corner. When I walk to my car after a fun night out, I can't just relax and enjoy. I have to brace myself for assholes like these who could, potentially, mean harm to me.
The group followed me until I ditched them. But not before they got in one last pick-up line, my personal favorite:
"Watch out, girl."
When people tell me to watch out, it's because something bad is about to happen. It's because, somehow, my safety or well-being is threatened.
Therefore, I find "watch out" to be a very appropriate pick up line.

Dear "playa" spittin' your "game",
What you are saying to me (and what you may want to do to me) is inappropriate and potentially violent. So yes, thank you, I will watch out. Now, please, leave me alone.
Suffer,
Lindsay

You don't know me

2008-02-04T08:30:00.001-08:00

I haven’t posted in a while because there’s been nothing to post. It was kind of wonderful.
Then, this weekend happened, and I paid for my months of freedom with a night from hell.
I went to a party Saturday night. I was bending down at one point to put my coat away behind a table, when there was a burst of pain and I felt myself sprawled out on the floor. Some guy at the party kicked me in the back so hard that I’d launched forward and landed on my chest.
At first, I thought I was being attacked. I got up, shocked and frightened, looking for the person who’d kicked me over. I think I knew who it was, but mostly I just saw a crowd of faces swirling around me asking ‘Are you OK? Are you OK?’
I was not OK. I was hurt and scared. I went into a bedroom to calm down for a minute.
Once I’d stopped crying, I went back to the party. I guess I’d missed a LOT of drinking, because suddenly everyone was either throwing up or laughing at the people throwing up. I tried to help, putting clothes on the friend passed out naked on tile, wrapping my hair tie around the friend puking into her bangs.
At this point, I had a brilliant idea. I went into the kitchen to find a chip-clip to hold my friend’s hair back so she could puke in peace.
This is the part of the night I can’t believe I escaped.
I was scrambling through the kitchen drawers without finding anything I could improvise as a hair accessory when two guys walked up. They blocked the entrance and started to talk.
“Hey, I know you,” says the first. “I was your Summer Welcome leader!”
He introduces himself as John Anderson and says he remembers me from when he helped me “get acquainted” to college.
Two things:
A) My summer welcome leader was a girl. I think her name was Kristi. Her name was not John.
B) I know (of) this guy. He was an MSA president at one point. And he was not my Summer Welcome leader.
I ignore the guy and try to snake my way out of the kitchen.
He grabs my arm and stops me.
“No,” he says. “I remember you. I remember your beautiful hair.”
Reader, let me put this in context for you. He did not say this sweetly with a smile. He said this sternly, blocking my exit from the room. He said this as he kept me trapped in the kitchen. He said this threateningly.
All I could think to do was apologize. That must have been wrong, because he got mad.
“No, I remember you! I remember you’re hair! Aren’t you listening? I remember your beautiful hair! I go though all this work to be a huge part of your first college experience, and you can’t even remember me?” he yells. He looks at his friend, exasperated.
“Nah, dude,” says his friend, knowingly. “I know her. She’s a Chi O.”
Now, I am a Chi Omega. But I still don’t know this guy. And he offers no explanation. So I ask…
“Oh, do I know you?”
“You should,” he says. “I know you. You’re a Chi O. I’m a (fill in some frat here). I know you. I knoooow you.”
He says this like he’s trying to tell me something. He says it while lifting his eyebrows like he’s suggesting something we both know. He says this like he’s seen me naked. He hasn’t.
I am scared out of my mind. I can’t get out. They won’t let me leave. They keep getting mad when I say I don’t know them. But I don’t! I don’t know them! And my friend is sick and she needs help and I need help and no one is looking and I’m trapped in the kitchen with knives and other potential weapons with two strangers who want to “know” me.
So I giggle. I bat my eyelashes. I feel filthy and awful, but I run my hand down John Anderson’s chest and promise to be right back. He lets me out of the kitchen.
These guys expected me to be grateful for the way they treated me. They wanted me to be flattered that they were paying attention to me. They wanted me to thank them for the compliments about my hair.
But I am not stupid. I am a woman, I have a vagina – and I am NOT STUPID. Those were not compliments, boys. Those were strategic attacks. You were getting something out of me, or trying to. You wanted me to be so flattered that I fell to my knees and stayed there. You wanted to put me on a pedestal so I would go down on it. You used force and coercion and anger and unspoken threats to keep me from getting away from you.
You assaulted me. Fuck you.
After I drove home that night, I broke down. I spend my life fighting the social norms and mindsets that let nights like this happen – and they still happen. They happen to me and to other women. And sometimes, violence happens. Rape happens. I don’t know what I escaped that night, but I was one of the lucky ones.
How fucked up is that.

Truckers

2007-12-22T17:23:00.000-08:00

It took me 12 hours to get from St. Louis to Dallas on Thursday, but I made it. It was a nerve-racking drive. After all, it was raining, my tires are old and ready to pop, and I'm technically on some kind of probation from all the speeding tickets I've gotten on this drive.
I'm heading down I-44, and a trucker honks at me as I pass him. He starts flashing his brights over and over in my rear-view mirror. I get nervous. I'd just stopped for gas. Was my gas tank open? Were my tires in trouble? Was something wrong with my car?? What?!
He passes me and honks again. Scared, I look over at him to figure out what was up. But instead, he passes me, turns his blinker on, and tries to lead me off the highway. That's when I realized...nothing was wrong with my car. This was a pick up attempt. This trucker found me attractive and decided to get me off the road and into his...cab.
Is it safe to flirt at 75 mph on a highway? In motor vehicles? In the rain? What about that situation was supposed to turn me on?

Book Buy Guy

2007-12-12T16:34:00.000-08:00

At the end of each semester, a textbook buy-back stand sets up in the Domino's Pizza parking lot across from the J-school. Students can sell their text books to these guys for more cash than the bookstore will give them.
This year, the stand is run by this guy who decides to yell come-ons at me every time I walk by. Every time. It's pretty common stuff: "Bye baby! I'll miss you! If I'd known a beautiful lady was coming by, I'd have (fill in blank here)." Terribly clever.
What reeeeeeaally pisses me off is that he treats me like I'm the bitch for "ignoring" him! The first time he yelled at me, I was so taken aback by his assumed familiarity that I physically stopped and stared at him. It wasn't till he yelled something about my brown owl bag that I knew he was talking to me. He treated me like he'd known me for years and like he was sick of me turning him down.
He wasn't even hitting on me! He was acting like he was frustrated at me for being...prude! I DON'T KNOW YOU, BOOK BUY GUY!
I am sick of men lumping me and all other vagina-bearing beings into one inferior category. Yelling at me is NOT hitting on me.

Bubye, sugar

2007-12-08T20:12:00.000-08:00

The roads are icy tonight, and there's a big storm on the way. I didn't have an ice scraper, so I ran into Wal-Mart to buy one. I got to the automotive section to find long stretches of white shelves and two small boxes of 97 cent plastic (and semi-useless) scrapers. I bought two.
I walked back to my car slowly, scared to slip in the icy parking lot. I walked past two men saying good-bye to each other. One of them sees me and says, "Hey, buddy, take this cutie-pie with you."
The other guy turns around, laughs and starts whispering "Hey there, sugar," under his breath.
I keep my head down, annoyed. Then, I hear crunching on the ice. He's actually coming at me.
And I'm alone in an icy parking lot where I can't run.
I try to walk faster without slipping as I hear Guy#2 continue coming at me. All I could think was: "Don't fall don't fall don't fall, this guy might be serious about taking you with him."
Just as I got to my car, I heard the guy slip on the ice. I only looked at him once I was in the car. He'd stood up and was looking at me.
"You ought to be more careful," he says. Guy#1 laughs and drives off.
I take a breath and start the car. As I leave I hear him yell.
"Bubye, sugar."

Trops

2007-12-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

Went to Tropical Liqueurs with the boys on Friday night. When we got out of the car, it was freezing; so I ran inside quickly.
Once I was through the doors, I stopped and looked around. I wasn't getting anything, so I was just waiting for Mike, Jim and Stephan to catch up with me.
Some guy at the bar turns around and looks thrilled to see a real-live female walk through the door.
"Hey there, baby. How are you? What's up?"
I just stare back at him, too annoyed and cold to respond. Then my boyfriend and his two friends come in the door.
Immediately, his face falls. "Oh," he mumbles, and turns around.
Excuse me, sir, are you hitting on any woman who comes in to Trops alone? Is that your plan?
I'm sick of being seen as worthless just because I'm with guys.

Airport

2007-11-25T11:43:00.001-08:00

As I flew out for Thanksgiving, I stopped at a news stand to get some magazines. The sales clerk was very friendly to everyone in the store, so I thought nothing when he greeted and tried to help me.
As I checked out, he asked me to fill out a 'customer satisfaction survey,' which I was happy to do. He'd been friendly enough, I didn't mind giving him a good review. I filled it out, but left the optional parts asking for name and address blank. I handed the form to him and left.
Then I heard a shout from behind me. The clerk was calling me back in, saying I'd forgot to put something down. I walked back, annoyed, (I was trying to catch my flight, after all) and asked what I'd forgotten. He pointed...to the spot for my phone number. When I looked up at him, he smiled and winked.
What could I do? I told him no, angrily, and went to go through security.

Wine and Assholes

2007-11-25T11:40:00.001-08:00

Rebekah and I went to Top Ten Wines before Thanksgiving Break to catch up. We were sitting by the window when a guy walks by. He was pretty cute...until he started gesticulating at us. From his wild hand gestures, I assume that he wanted us to invite him inside so he could, well, you know, 'hang out' with us.
Who gestures inappropriate things on the street? In the open? By yourself? This is NOT what I wanted when I told Rebekah we should people-watch.

Mad Max

2007-11-14T16:05:00.000-08:00

Saw a friend of my boyfriend's on campus today. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was headed to class.
"What class?" he asked.
"Sociology of Sex Roles," I said.
"Hm, sounds like something you'd be good at."
Hold up, what? Does that mean what I think it means? Was that a "You'd be kinky in sex positions/role playing" innuendo joke? REALLY?
I just want to go to class!

TGI Fridays

2007-11-14T16:01:00.000-08:00

Rebecca and I went to Friday's to have a drink and hang out. She ordered some crazy drink where they give you a shaker and a glass and you make your own cocktail.

As the waiter gave Rebecca her drink, another waiter walked by. He eyed us, eyed our waiter, and then goes, "Shake it!" provocatively under his breath. Becca was mad. So was I. Was that necessary

Dem Stock

2007-11-03T01:58:00.000-07:00

Rebecca and I were talking at a table at the Blue Fugue. Some jackass walked up to us, put his arms around us, and said he was leaving and wanted to say goodbye. I have no idea who this guy was.

In his wake, another guy walks up and asks what we’re talking about. We told him some ridiculous guy just hit on us, sort of. He asked a really interesting question:

Do I feel like I've been getting hit on more often in the last year?

Hm. No. I feel like I’ve always had unwanted male attention, especially since I came to college. But only in the last semester has the attention been particularly asshole-ish, I told the guy. I was interested. He seemed like he had a solution, or at least an explanation

He proceeded to tell me about a book published in 2004ish by a guy who is sick of striking out with women and comes up with a fool-proof method.
"It was on the best sellers list and everything," this guy says. He talks on and on about this best-selling, well-read book that he also read. He says this book may be changing how men hit on women. But he doesn’t tell us what it is or who wrote it.

Three seconds into this diatribe and I know two things:
A) This guy is talking about the book by Mystery, of VH1's The Pickup Artist fame.
B) This guy is an asshole.
Why is he assuming that I didn’t read a book that was on the NYT best sellers list? This is going nowhere good.

So I ask him if he is talking about Mystery. He is thrilled I brought up the name, and started delving into Mystery's "method". I assure him that I am not an idiot and had indeed heard of Mystery before he bestowed this knowledge upon me. I tell him that I have one problem with Mystery: The pickup artist's method treats all women as having the same "turn-on switches." In my opinion, I am more than a turn on switch and a vagina. I even have a brain. Plus, my turn on’s may be different than other women’s. For example, some one who likes Mystery's method is not going to turn on my switch.

He starts explaining to me the difference between a one night stand and real love. (Ya, thanks, I hadn't understood until this moment, asshole. But please, continue.) He tells me that by relegating women to the emotional capacity of a switchboard, Mystery keeps men from being rejected for real love.

Here is the problem with meeting women, he tells me. Women are approached so often that they start shutting down every guy they see automatically, without giving him a chance. (You would think the fact that he and I are still talking would negate that premise, but let's continue) But this guy isn't blaming asshole men who hit on girls in skeezy ways; he is blaming women for not welcoming every single male advance in the hopes that one might be from a nice guy. So, shame on us women, for not welcoming every guy who hits on us during the day. Next time a construction worker tells you that you are a fine piece of meat, remember he is only saying that because he was turned down by some cold hearted bitch. She was probably even a feminist.

This is when it gets interesting.

The guy tells me that men have it hard because they have to initiate all romantic interactions. (My boyfriend would find this hard to believe. The reason we are dating is because I asked HIM out.) Then he tells me that men are naturally leaders. Like this guy, for instance. He is offended by my term 'asshole,' he says, because he would call them 'Alpha Males.' This guy is a leader. Alpha males are natural leaders looking for a woman to follow them.

At this point my friend Stephan comes up. I turn and smile at him, wondering if I can ditch Mystery Man over here. This is where Mystery Man tells me he is the oldest child in his family and, therefore, a natural leader. Stephan says he, too, is the oldest. Mystery Man tells me that the reason I am a follower to Stephan is because I am the baby of the family. (Yes, he used the word baby.)

Two things:
A) I am the oldest of four children.
B) I’m sorry, but when was I a follower to Stephan?????

Apparently, I 'took my cue' from Stephan and changed myself when he entered the conversation, Mystery Man says. I countered that the way I interacted with Mystery Man, whom I didn’t know and found annoying, was different than they way I interacted with a good friend.

That wasn’t good enough. Mystery Man said I looked to him for a way to act, AKA followed. This is my question: Since Stephan crossed the room to come talk to me, wasn’t he following MY lead? Didn't I initiate where we would be located in the bar? By smiling at a friend, am I being lead by the male next to me, who is a natural born leader and oldest child? Or am I just being a person at a bar with a friend.

This is dumb. I left before I lost it on this guy.

I came to the Blue Fugue tonight to have a good time. I wanted to drink some beer, make some jokes, listen to some music and take a break from fighting patriarchy all the damned time. Instead I meet a guy who makes false accusations against me:
1. I haven’t read Mystery's book, nor have I heard of him, because I am not smart enough because the brain is located in the penis.
2. I never initiate contact with men. I am a damsel in distress, always.
3. I turn down all men who try to talk to me, even if they just want to get to know me.
4. I am the baby of my family.
5. I am a natural follower.

I cant tell if this guy was hitting on me, or if he just wanted to impress me, or if he just wanted to preach to me. How can I make this shit stop happening.

Halloween

2007-11-03T01:54:00.000-07:00

I didnt get hit on much on Halloween. But at Quinton's, a guy at the bar started stepping on my feet. I yelled for him to stop it. He smirks and says, "Hey baby, how are youuuu doin?"
Why are you hitting on me, idiot. You just stepped on my feet. I just pushed you. Leave me alone.

Neutral Colors

2007-10-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was in line to get a burrito at El Rancho. The guy behind me awkwardly and loudly gruffs: "Hey, you going out tonight?" I spun around, shocked and a little scared, before realizing that he was just trying to talk me up. He invited me to MoJos that night, where he was going to see some funk bands. After all, he told me, he didn't have a job in St Louis, so me may as well drink in Columbia, where he can walk home. He showed me the outfit he'd just bought at the mall and asked if I liked them. He wanted to make sure I liked his "neutral colors." What the fuck.

Later last night, I went to buy a pitcher for me and a couple friends. After I shelled out the money for it, a guy walked up offering to buy my pitcher of Killiens. I corrected him, telling him it was Fat Tire. His face fell, he grunted, and he walked away. Very weird. Why can't he just leave me alone?

Well, hello there

2007-10-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

So this is the thing.
People have a hard time understanding why I get frustrated when I get hit on by men. The other night I was out at Shakespere's with the boys when I went to the bar to get a drink. All I wanted was a beer, but the guys at booth behind me had another idea. Two of them came up, trying to talk me up. At first they seemed harmless, asking me where I was from and why I was at Mizzou. Then, they talked about how amazing it was that they were talking to a beautiful girl. They asked to take pictures of me so they could prove it to thier friends. They bought me a shot so they could take my picture.
I took the shot so I could leave without being rude. But first, I tried to get my beer. After all, that's what I wanted...
Instead, the rest of the guys from the booth behind me tried to start talking to me. The first two started pushing them away, telling thier friends that they were "working on it." I was furious and ordered a Boulevard Wheat from the bartender so I could get out of there. One of the guys slammed his hand down on the counter, told the bar tender to disregard my order, and bought another round of shots.
I took the shot and left, citing the bathroom as my excuse. The guy who bought the shot followed me to the bathroom to continue talking to me and to make sure I wasn't ditching them. Once I was inside, I counted to ten and ran back to my friends and my boyfriend, who dont understand why I was frustrated.
After all, they said, I got two free shots. And isn't that what it's all about?

Ive decided to track instances like this when they happen. I'm interested in recording for myself and others how often I am hit on in a way that reduces me to a sex object, ignoring my abilities, personality, competancies and humanity.
Plus, I hope this will keep me from strangling the next ass hole who thinks shoving two shots down my throat means I'll let him shove...something else...