In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

Month: July 2010

The Hair Journey.

As I mentioned in my ‘hello!’ post, I started a hair tumblr recently. The short reason is because I wanted to look at pictures of awesome hair. The long reason, well, it’s a little complicated.

I went natural two years ago, after having relaxed hair longer than I could remember. I don’t fault my mom for that at all — she was a working woman with a crazy commute, and my dad’s one attempt at doing my hair resulted in all of my hair being cut off. As a natural hair neophyte, I had all the zealousness one would expect. I pored over the black hair internet, reading hair boards like Naturally Curly and Nappturality, found as many hair blogs as I could, tried dozens of products, and stalked natural hair Fotki accounts whenever I had the time.

But by immersing myself so deeply in the online natural hair world, I soon became the bane of my straight-haired friends. I tried really, really hard to not push nappiness on them, but a simple answer about a hair product I use would inevitably turn into a diatribe about the evils of the perm or how heat straightening causes incalculable damage. I was that nappy.

I was at times a devotee of coconut oil. Then shea butter. Then castor oil. Then henna. I tried them all, with mixed results. I learned the lingo, and went strictly CG for a while (CG being shorthand for Curly Girl, the all-natural regimen developed by British ‘curl advocate’ Lorraine Massey). I became a no-pooer. I was fervent about my curls, and spent hours trying to ‘type’ my hair. I watched 400 Years Without A Comb.

But something happened about a year into my ‘natural hair journey.’ My natural laziness reasserted itself. I lost the wonder at each tiny curl, and stopped deep conditioning, stopped henna-ing, and started occasionally using regular shampoo (well, Trader Joe’s shampoo. I still don’t mess with sulfates). I pared down my product usage, and even though I occasionally branch out to other brands, I generally stick to three. I use two hair products a day, a moisturizer and a gel, whereas before, I was using 3-5. I decided people should have whatever hair works for them, because hey, they’re the ones who have to style it.

And I stopped reading the hair boards and blogs. I think they are invaluable for the newbies out there — they’re the best place to get answers, support, and great ideas. But a lot of angst and anxiety over natural hair still exists, and it’s played out daily online. There are women who think natural hair isn’t natural unless it meets a particular set of criteria (which, by the way, reminds me a lot of the fights over Real Feminism), and there are women who think that straight hair on a black woman is the equivalent of mental slavery. I’m at a point where I can’t deal with all of that. But I do still crave pictures of beautiful hair. It can be naturally straight, naturally nappy, colored, grey, styled, or unstyled. I just want to look at it.

That’s the long version of why I started a hair tumblr.

shorter, cuter, more honest people

you do not have a right to child free spaces.

there is this weird thing in western culture, especially n american culture, where people/adults seem to believe that they have a right to discriminate against children.
recently, i was hanging out at a bar, when a friend called and invited me to come hang out for a few drinks and chill time as the sun came up. cool. then, i heard a bit of whispers in the background and the question posed to me: is aza with you?
ummm…what? why? does that matter?

my daughter, aza, is a person. a three year old person. a funny, cute, bad-ass, curly haired person who loves to dance and draw, wearing short skirts, watching pink videos, and talking on the phone. frankly, she is probably cooler than you are. she is definitely cooler than i am. but even if she wasnt you dont have the right to discriminate against her based on her age. or her race. or her gender. or her nationality, etc.

sometimes she is loud. but frankly, she is normally one of the quieter people in a room full of inebriated souls. and since she is a person, and not a thing, it is not my job as her mother to ‘control’ her. love her? yes. model how to be respectful to fellow human beings and other sentient creatures? yes. teach her self respect, self love? definitely yes.

im not a feminist ( yeah, i said it…shrug). but i dont understand people who claim to be feminist on one hand, and on the other hand think that children should be designated to certain public and private spaces, not mixing in ‘normal’ public areas, such as restaurants, stores, airplanes, etc. cause in us culture, when you create little reservations for children, you are really creating little reservations for mothers. it is the mother who will be sent away to take care of the child. and how is that supporting all women and girls?

ive even heard people claim that mamas, like me, just dont want to face up to the fact that they are parents and still want to live as if they are unattached. ummm…nope. i know im a mama. i love being one. i simply dont believe that my mamahood means that i must be shunted away from the rest of society. nor do i believe it is beneficial to my daughter if she is not allowed to interact and explore the world as it is.

you know in a lot of cultures, like the one i live in now, the lines between adult spaces and child spaces are much more porous. it is assumed that kids will be around. that people of all ages will be. because of this kids learn early on what is expected of them in various social situations. they dont expect that every space they enter will be made to cater to their age group. and they learn to negotiate boundaries with various people.

but dont get me wrong. kids will be kids. at times that means tears, loud noises, knocking things over, etc. and when that happens the worst things to do is start sending out negative energy, glaring at the mama and child, yelling, sour faces, etc. much more helpful is to take a deep breath, send warm energy toward the mama and kid, give a sympathetic smile, and maybe even start talking with the kid to distract her from whatever has her upset at the moment. a lot of times, a little bit of attention from an outsider will change the mood quickly. doing so in a way that does not overstep the mama’s boundaries and voila! you are the hero of the moment. and everyone is happier and less stressed. see, really, its that easy.

anyways, i dont live in n america, so for the most part i only have to deal with these anti child attitudes when i am around expats. most folks here when they see you walk in with a kid, smile. and say hi. when they see she is in a bad mood, they make weird faces at her, and ask me if there is anything that she needs that they can get me. we’re not talking nuclear physics here, we are talking basic human compassion for another human being.

this topic was on my mind, and i thought that maybe some feminists could use a refresher course, a reminder, that kids are people. shorter, cuter, more honest people.

ah aza just woke up so i need to go. but if you are interested in more ways to support mamas and kids, especially in activist circles, please check out dont leave your friends behind. vikki and china are doing amazing work editing and compiling ways to remind us how to support parents and kids in this world.

My Sluthood, Myself.

Last summer, I suffered the breakup of a relationship that I had thought would be permanent. Now, I’ve been through my share of break-ups, even of quite serious relationships, but nothing ever broke me like this one.

Since then, I’ve had sexual interactions of the orgasmic kind with 9 different people, none of which I was at any time in a committed relationship with.

I’m not telling you this to shock (though I am specifying the number because we all need to get over the whole “OMG! Be ashamed of your NUMBER! It’s either too big or too small!” thing). I’m telling you this because of something else that’s also true about me: I’d really like to be in a long-term, probably monogamous relationship. That’s right, folks, I’m a slut who craves a stable, loving, committed relationship. File me under “Lookin’ fer luv: ur doin it wrong.”

That’s the story we get sold, right? That women who sleep around are destroying their chances at True Love. Something to do with bonding hormones getting all used up? Or is it that we have so little self-esteem that no one could love us? Or maybe it’s that we’re all used candy wrappers or dirty masking tape. I can never remember.

Thing is: I’ve done it the other way. Until my mid-30s, I was largely a serial monogamist. Not for any grand ethical or philosophical reasons – it was just what felt comfortable to me. That’s not to say that I didn’t have some wild adventures in college, or never went to bed with someone on a first date – I did on occasion. It’s just that when I did, I’d often wake up the next day in a relationship. Let me tell you: not the best recipe for partnership bliss.

I’m thinking of one particular instance in which I had what was for me a very painful dry spell: a year and a half in which I barely got to kiss anyone, and didn’t get to do anything other than that at all, sexually speaking, with anyone. It… yeah. Didn’t feel too good. Made me feel like I would never be touched or loved again. Made me feel, in a word, desperate. You know what’s not a great emotional state for making important life decisions? Desperation.

To wit: after this year and a half of nothing, I went to bed with a woman I barely knew on our first date. Nothing wrong with that, we had a great time, and seriously, did I mention a year and a half? The problem came the next morning, when it became obvious that she was much more into me emotionally than I was at that point. Did I tell her that? And potentially get exiled back to my affectionless desert? I bet you know the answer. What followed was a two-year relationship in which we were unhappy for about the last year and a half.

Fast forward through a few more relationships to last fall. As I crawled out of the acute grief stage of my breakup and into the Land of Reboundia, I launched myself somewhat full-throttle into dating. It was comforting to me to find that there were other people I found appealing who felt similarly about me. But each person I’d meet, if there was any kind of a click at all, I’d throw myself at them whole-hog, wanting so badly for them to be The One that proved I wouldn’t have to do die alone with a shriveled-up vagina and no cats. (I’m allergic.) And then (sing this with me if you know the tune), when something would inevitably go wrong, however silly or minor, however nascent the connection was, it would feel overwhelming. Like I was dying. Like I was broken all over again.

And then a miracle occurred. Via the unlikeliest source of miracles ever: Craigslist Casual Encounters.

Read More…Read More…

Hello.

Hello all! My name is Shani and I’d like to send many thanks to Jill for inviting me to guest.

It’s always so hard to write a bio post — I never know whether to be clever or straightforward. But my about-me goes a little something like this: I currently work as the associate editor at CampusProgress.org. In my spare time I blog at PostBourgie, the place that helped me become a better writer, with former Feministe guest bloggers G.D. and Jamelle Bouie (and an outstanding group of folks). I’ve written and/or guest blogged around the progressive innanet for Ta-Nehisi Coates, Spencer Ackerman, The Atlantic, and The American Prospect. Also, I totally just started a hair tumblr (I think I may explain why in a post this week). And you can find me on the Twitter, here.

The one good thing about bio posts is that you get to talk about yourself shamelessly. If you’re into that sort of thing, that is. In that spirit, I’m just going to list some of my favorite things — and I’d love for you to do so in the comments.

Food: curry goat (my mom is Jamaican)
Song/Singer: Sophisticated Lady, Ella Fitzgerald
Book: Main Street
Musical: Jesus Christ Superstar

More of my preferences will be revealed over the next two weeks, but more importantly, I hope to have a few good conversations with you all.

(Oh, and by the way, I’ll be guest-blogging at The American Prospect’s TAPPED blog this week as well, so feel free to stop by there. And if you’re into progressive policy, you should be reading it anyway.)

Class Action Against U.S. Military On Behalf Of Sexual Assault Survivors

Just got this news via the fine folks at CounterQuo:

The DC firm, Burke PLLC, is preparing to file a class action suit on behalf of those harmed by the military’s failures to address military sexual trauma. They are interested in speaking with anyone who has been assaulted or raped while in the military or by a member of the military. They plan on filing in the near future so if you know any victims/survivors who may be potentially interested in participating in this lawsuit, please have them contact Susan Sajadi at ssajadi at burkepllc dot com.

If this is you or someone you know, please do get in touch. Here’s some context, from playwright Carolyn Gage:

According to the website of the Military Rape Crisis Center, one in three women in the military will be sexually assaulted. Two out of three women in the military will be sexually harassed. Congresswoman Jane Harmon from California has done the math: “A woman who signs up to protect her country is more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire.”

Over 90% of all females that report a sexual assault are discharged from the military before their contract ends. From the 90%, around 85% are discharged against their wishes. Nearly all 
of the 85% lose their careers based on misdiagnoses that render them ineligible for military service and ineligible for VA treatment 
after discharge.

This case has the potential to not only win some small bit of justice for the victims/survivors that have already suffered at the hands of an (at best) uncaring military (trigger warning on that link), but may also have a real impact on the way the U.S. military policy deals with sexual violence in its ranks, hopefully saving many people from ever being so traumatized.

(Cross-posted at Yes Means Yes)

from al qahira

:::waves:::

my name is mai’a. some of y’all know me, most of y’all don’t.

i am a black ndn queer mama to a three year old bad-ass princess. live in cairo, egypt. write for a few blogs like guerrilla mama medicine and flip flopping joy. run a zine distro with my girl aaminah at thaura zine distro. am a poet, outlaw midwife, anti utilitarian anarchist, visual artist, and all around dredlocked diva.

i blog about palestine and the middle east and africa, motherhood, reproductive justice and health, home birth and abortions, community building, survival, the fall of industrial civilization, and fairies.

some more quick notes:

there is no need for us-centrism

anti-mother/anti-child comments not appreciated

i have a pet peeve against straw man arguments

i am pro palestine/anti israeli government. the ‘balanced narrative’ is a delusion.

and i love a good argument/debate. emphasis on ‘good’. 😉

It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye

Today is my last day blogging with the lovelies here at Feministe. It’s been fun, and I hope you’ve found my posts interesting at the least, maybe infuriating, hopefully not boring. I’ll be taking a brief vacation and staying “home”, as it were, at my blog Red Vinyl Shoes, and then starting August 1 I’ll be over at Bitch Magazine blogging about fat acceptance/body politics for 2 months. To keep up to date with my comings and goings, add me on Twitter: I’m @redvinylshoes. If you want to get more intimate, friend me on Facebook.

Peace and hair grease,
Tasha

P.S. You can also find me at pop culture powerhouse I Fry Mine in Butter.