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

Good enough?

evil fizz

I hate it when Post Secret makes me teary. Otherwise, posted without comment.

Updated: if the image isn’t showing up for some reason, click the link and scroll about halfway down. The card is a black and white photo of a woman leaning against a wall and the text begins “my greatest fear…” or you can check it out here.

38 thoughts on Good enough?

  2. I didn’t write that one…but I could have. I have that thought all the damn time and wish I could get it out of my head.

  5. Egad. Well, I’ll just go pour another glass of wine now, I think.

    And you know, if we ALL fucking think that, if that’s what we are ALL going through all of the time, then I guess the patriarchy’s really done it’s job on us, hasn’t it? Because we feel simultaneously feminist-guilty and slutty if we insist on the right to be and express ourselves as whole, sexual beings, and then even when we give ourselves that permission, we still suffer from the internalized message that some of us are fuckworthy, and some of us are loveworthy, and never the ‘twain shall meet.

    I am so tired of feeling simultaneously guilty for being ho-y AND always unsatisfied sexually AND worried about how I’m the warm available one, and why doesn’t anyone want the warm available ones for anything beyond warm availability??? Except I think I’m the warm available one, and you think you’re the warm available one, and that girl in the corner thinks SHE’s the warm available one, and we’re all thinking that the others are infinitely more loveable and not just fuckable, and we’re the ones who are sluts.

    Good lord, at least now I have something to talk to my therapist about this week.

  7. Perhaps a tangent, but I felt that way exactly until the moment my father called me a slut and said that same thing to me — that there are girls men will fuck, and women men will marry, and I was the former. Then my belated teenage rebellion kicked in and I decided that if that was what was, then I would be happy with it to spite him.

    Over time that bravado actually transmuted itself into “fuck all the fuckers with smallfuckingminded opinions like that” and, well, here I am now. I can certainly sympathise, but it’s no longer a genuine fear of mine.

  8. Hmm. Gotta say this one doesn’t goose me. I think it’s because I immediately think of WHO is to be doing the fucking or loving here. And for me (and for the other het and bi girls here) that’s a guy. I know the guy will always be carrying around a head full of social conditioning telling him I’m a subhuman fucktoy/breeding machine and nothing further. He may or may not choose with his free will to think beyond that. I can’t know what he thinks. But, I tend to think…

    …that if the guy in question has decided that he feels women are fucktoys (and if he thinks one is, he thinks ALL are on some level, misogyny doesn’t confine itself to one individual or subset)- then why the blue hell would I give too shits what he thinks anyway? He’s a worthless twit.

    I think it’s clear that everyone’s a full human being, and that’s worthy of love- love being recognition and bonding from other human beings. I think that’s so freaking obvious that this doesn’t grab me.

    But clearly I’m just really effing weird, or really emotionally disconnected, or yet to be properly mindfucked and beaten into submission by the patriarchy. I’m sure they’ll get right to that as soon as I poke my head up.

    But the calculus of ‘hatred of women = fucking moron = who the hell cares what this idiot thinks?’ has served me well in the past.

  9. Well said, punkrockhoneymoon. It is totally ridiculous, but I think most women I know feel that way at least some of the time. And the ones who don’t are terrified that they’re just lovable enough to be everyone’s friend, but not sexy or lovable enough to ever have any sex or have a relationship. Me, I go back and forth between those two feelings… So yeah, that’s pretty shitty, isn’t it?

  11. I used to feel that way a whole lot…for decades, actually. Then, I turned thirty and I just stopped caring.

    It became more important to me to be respected than to be loved, and if I had to make a male partner afraid of me leaving him to make him respect me, then that was okay.

    I’ve given up on feeling the sublime happiness that comes with the initial bloom of attraction with a new partner. I’m okay just being “comfortable,” if that makes any sense.

  13. Mezosub, sounds like you’ve adopted my motto “i’m am not a vessel to be filled. i’m full enough of myself already. thank you very much.”

    still, my heart hurts for the woma(e)n who keep that secret.

  14. The postcard with the chair sculpture this week was sent in by a friend of mine… the sculpture was done by a student who committed suicide a few months ago. I didn’t understand what the Hebrew meant but I recognized the sculpture immediately and I teared up. PostSecret is amazing.

  15. Caro:

    That’s hilarious. I sort of did have a punkrockhoneymoon. We took off to elope on Friday and then stayed in bed at home in our duplex, eating cheap fried chicken take-out and drinking boxed wine and labatts, because we couldn’t afford to take more than one day off of work…and I got married in an Adam Ant t-shirt, shorts, and a spiderweb tattoo, sporting a big black bow and bright red lipstick…

    Now, of course, I’m a lawyer and he’s divorcing me. But I still have the tattoos, and now I can go somewhere tropical by myself. šŸ™‚

    Mezosub:

    You’re exactly right. And it is more important for me to be respected than loved, and I was comfortable in my marriage– but now that it’s ending, I’m all insecure again and wondering. And even in the moment I’m demanding respect and leaving, or threatening to leave, or refusing to let him back, in the back of my head is all of that self-doubt and fear that I really am, ultimately, defined by my sexuality.

    Intellectually, I know it’s a bunch of hooey. Nine moments out of ten, I know it’s a bunch of hooey and I refuse to capitulate to it even emotionally. But there are those moments, and in them I feel just as vulnerable as the woman who sent that postcard in.

    I just think it’s amazing that so many of us experience that same vulnerability. As a matter of theory I knew that to be true, but it’s still different to see those words impact different women the same way.

  16. I felt that “comfortable” feeling. That’s what helped me get through the horror of my last marriage.

    I don’t feel that way anymore. But I feel that postcard. That’s strikes me so hard I want to spit nails.

    Probably why I am Bi, so that I can commiserate with someone else who feels the same rejection and pain I do. But I have only loved one woman and she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.

    “He” wonders why I won’t marry him. I wonder alot too, but it’s so strong sometimes I can actually say it. Other times I can’t and had no clue what I wanted to say. But to day it’s there.

    “You’re not worthy to marry me.”

    Then I get guilty and second guess myself and hide it away. That and I really REALLY don’t want to go through another divorce like I went through. I am still in a custody battle that has lasted 12 fucking years. Yeah Like I need THAT. I can’t get away from my abuser, and I can’t get my kids away from him. He wants to control EVERYTHING and he makes sure I won’t ever be alone.

    GAH, oy that’s enough I am wandering out.

  17. Nice conversation.

    That secret continues to get the most responses this week. It also seems a lot of people knew the young man who created the chair sculpture.

    Be well,
    -Frank

  18. I felt that way exactly until the moment my father called me a slut and said that same thing to me ā€” that there are girls men will fuck, and women men will marry, and I was the former.

    I have a post percolating on this topic, particularly as it relates to an acquaintance of mine and how she internalized it. I’ll try and get it up this week.

    Frank, thanks for stopping by!

  19. Pauline said:

    The postcard with the chair sculpture this week was sent in by a friend of mineā€¦ the sculpture was done by a student who committed suicide a few months ago. I didnā€™t understand what the Hebrew meant but I recognized the sculpture immediately and I teared up. PostSecret is amazing.

    The Hebrew read: Lach l’shalom, go in peace.

  20. the guy will always be carrying around a head full of social conditioning telling him Iā€™m a subhuman fucktoy/breeding machine and nothing further.

    Most of my “social conditioning” came from observing my parents’ relationship. Dad did not treat Mom as a subhuman fucktoy/breeding machine, nor did she think of herself that way. And, although I can’t be sure how they interact with their SO’s when I’m not around, all of my friends seem to have been raised the same way.

  21. I am so tired of feeling simultaneously guilty for being ho-y AND always unsatisfied sexually AND worried about how Iā€™m the warm available one, and why doesnā€™t anyone want the warm available ones for anything beyond warm availability??? Except I think Iā€™m the warm available one, and you think youā€™re the warm available one, and that girl in the corner thinks SHEā€™s the warm available one, and weā€™re all thinking that the others are infinitely more loveable and not just fuckable, and weā€™re the ones who are sluts.

    I bet Dawn Eden never feels like that.

  24. Seconded, car. I’m an overweight woman. Men don’t even look at me. That makes me unfuckable AND unlovable. I haven’t even gone on a date in five years.

  25. For what it’s worth, there’s not a single sex partner that I didn’t respect, and not one that I respected less after sex with me than before. The woman I married and have children with started as a hookup at a party; we were horny and we fucked on the first date, and it wasn’t a relationship for months after that.

    In patriarchy, it isn’t always like that. But I wanted to speak up against the notion that male disdain for their sex partners is universal. It isn’t.

  26. Most of my ā€œsocial conditioningā€ came from observing my parentsā€™ relationship. Dad did not treat Mom as a subhuman fucktoy/breeding machine, nor did she think of herself that way. And, although I canā€™t be sure how they interact with their SOā€™s when Iā€™m not around, all of my friends seem to have been raised the same way.

    Cool. That’s great that your dad treated your mom with respect. But I was referring more to the barrage of social messages we all receive, in ten zillion other ways, that tell us every day that women are not quite human, not quite worthy of self-determination or respect, not quite worthy of anything other then breeding and exploitation.

    If you’re arguing that this societal backnoise isn’t enough to make anyone sort of passively think of women as sex toys and breeding animals, that one has to actively make that leap in their thinking themselves, then that’s interesting. I was operating under the idea of passive sexism: that the default for guys was to just absorb the sextoy/breeding animal line without much thought or question. That is- that this was the passive option and that realizing it’s bullcrap requires active effort.

  27. I apologize in advance for the really, really absurdly long comment. Hopefully someone finds it at least a little interesting.

    Thomas, I don’t think anyone said male disdain for partners is universal. In fact, I think the comments and the discussion demonstrate that even the internalized self-doubt and fear created by the madonna/whore dichotomy isn’t universally experienced.

    Sorry if this comment sounds a bit harsh, and I most definitely don’t mean to aim it at Thomas directly (your comment was just sort of a springboard for my thoughts, not irritating in and of itself) but I would hate to turn the discussion over that postcard to a discussion about how guys act. To me that misses the point, or moves it (and then look, we’re talking about men).

    I think it’s important to recognize, though, that neither that postcard nor, I think, this discussion is about any particular male disdain for his sex-partners. What’s going on inside of me isn’t about any man’s actions or beliefs. For me, this discussion is more about the patriarchal tropes imposed on all members of this society and what effects those have on women oppressed by them, internally. I think the best thing about this comment thread is that we’re recognizing the responses we have to that imposition and that we’ve all responded in some way–whether by internalizing, by refusing to internalize, both, neither, all of the above, something different–and even those of us women here who don’t FEEL what the author of the postcard is feeling nonetheless understand what it is, and where it comes from, and why it’s about something a bit more universal than concern over what any particular guy is going to think about my warm availability.

    Maybe that’s a little convoluted, but at least my internal vulnerabilities, when they surface, are frankly deeply ingrained and far beyond any guy’s response to my sexuality. In fact, there have been times where the current man in my life at the time has been feminist, respectful, supportive, and all manner of fabulous, and unable to draw me out of that particular funk when I get in it. Individual guys can impose that dichotomy, but those who do are enacting the societally imposed dichotomy. I’m not “looking for a good guy” who won’t treat me that way, I’m looking for ways to keep fighting the pressure to internalize the slut-shaming mechanisms imposed by the “umbrella” of patriarchy.

    Also, it’s really het normative. Women and men impose these sort of feminized slut shaming things on each other, in and outside of relationships, shit, when we just see a woman in a tight short dress walking down the street. The belief that you’re only good for f*cking isn’t limited to hot people, or people who f*ck a lot, or people who f*ck in a manner deemed inappropriate by the culture…in fact, the power of the trope is this: if you f*ck, if you want to f*ck, if you masturbate, if you enjoy it, if you don’t enjoy it but you wish you did, if you get aroused when you’re talking to some guy, if you get aroused when you’re talking to a woman, if a guy harasses you on the street, if someone tells you that your skirt is too short or your dress is too tight, if you like the way you look in a tight dress, if you don’t like the way you look in a tight dress…all of those things and more, many of them contradictory, get you slut-shamed, internally and externally.

    The author of the postcard, and the women here commenting about their reaction to the postcard, are essentially talking about their reactions to sex-class oppression, and no one man is the reason they feel it. It’s everywhere. We’re immersed in it. So some of us worry we’re only f*cktoys, some of us worry we’re unf*ckable, some of us worry we’re neither sexy nor lovable, some of us refuse to internalize the messages, some of us refuse to see sex as anything but a tool of oppression, and some of us completely internalize they hype, drink the kool-aid, and oppress other women and men with the accepted norms (“Ms. Eden, your car’s arrived!”)–and some of us do any combination of all of those, or something completely different. But we’re all recognizing the impact of being submerged in and surrounded by and beaten with these ideas for years.

    No prince charming in feminist clothing (and believe me, I know they’re out there, I’ve loved them, I’ve f*cked them, I hope to find more of them in the future), simply by saying “Well, I like it that you are a sexual being, and I love you and respect you not despite it but for it and apart from it simultaneously,” can negate the impact of a lifetime as a member of the sex class.

    Or, and maybe I should have said this instead of a days’ long rant: My feminism is not about finding or making better men, it’s about “woman” being defined as “human” without reference to men (be they good or bad, feminist or misogynist) and independent of her sexual behavior or identity.

  28. This is why I’ve stopped reading Post Secret. Now need to curl up on the couch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues.

    The REALLY scary part of that nagging thought is that one day, eventually, you won’t even be fuckable anymore.

  29. I feel like Iā€™m neither. Iā€™m an extra sad lady.

    Me too, Bianca. I have a feeling that there are a lot of us out there.

    That’s why even though the site can be tough to take sometimes (a lot of the time, actually), I find some solace in visiting. It’s comforting to know that you’re not the only one. And especially comforting are the occasional posted messages from people who managed to get past their issues and let go of the baggage. It gives me a little bit of hope (which is big, because I am a natural-born pessimist).

  31. If youā€™re arguing that this societal backnoise isnā€™t enough to make anyone sort of passively think of women as sex toys and breeding animals, that one has to actively make that leap in their thinking themselves, then thatā€™s interesting.

    Yeah, like all my good friends, I learned at a young age that women were people, deserving of my respect. I’m not going to argue that the world is not full of assholes, though — just that it’s not universal.

    Thinking about this: what kind of guy would think you were subhuman yet wanted to fuck you anyway?

    Thomas Jefferson.

  32. Pingback: I knew it came from somewhere. « The Geek Side

  33. punkrockhockeymom, you’re making me happy today, and this is why:

    My feminism is not about finding or making better men, itā€™s about ā€œwomanā€ being defined as ā€œhumanā€ without reference to men (be they good or bad, feminist or misogynist) and independent of her sexual behavior or identity.

    Hot damn, woman, you’re on fire! *applauds*
    (Apparently this stuff is catching too, because I got into a rip on my own blog halfway through your comment, and I’m pleased to report that final summation applied to both your comment and my post!)

    evil fizz, thank you for bringing this PostSecret to our collective attention. This has been one of the most productive discussions I’ve ever encountered on teh interwebs.

    HectorB, I’m glad you had a childhood full of good examples. I know there are men who exist who did, but as punkrockhockeymom pointed out, this is not about individual men. To make anything about this PostSecret card about men is to entirely miss the point.

    This is a woman talking about her reactions to the patriarchy’s expectations of women. Individual men don’t figure in here at all.

    I can’t say this enough — making this discussion about men is capitulating to the patriarchy’s function to make everything about women actually about men. Their lovability, f*ckability, what the postcard writer said, everything the women who have commented about here, every worry about being considered (un)f*ckable or (un)lovable or whatever — is the manifestation of the patriarchy’s illusion that Women Derive Their Value From Men.

    Which is complete and utter BS. See also: punkrockhockeymom, quoted above.

  35. Bianca, car, “Anonymous, please” and Kristen –

    me too. I’m turning 23 this month and I’ve never had a relationship; I didn’t even get kissed till I was 21. I go back and forth on whether this is due to being “the fat girl” or some fundamental personality flaw.

  36. All I can say, is I deeply regret the many many years I spent feeling like this. Utter waste of time. If I could go back and redo my late teens/early 20’s with some degree of sexual confidence:

    (a) I would have had a lot more fun, profitable casual sex, since I wouldn’t have felt like I was “selling myself cheap” or opening myself to criticism by simply seize an opportunity to get some physical pleasure with an attractive young man who otherwise wasn’t important to me (nor would I play a head game with myself where some dude thoroughly unsuitable for a relationship became a ‘goal’ just because my pride insisted that he think of me as ‘more than just a fuck,” )
    and (b) I would have had a lot more meaningful relationships as well, since my fear of how I was being perceived wouldn’t have colored my every action and reaction until i was so cautious I just dealt with some men, even some men I really liked, by *ignoring* them. Yup. I was that mature.

    I would have seen what was right under my nose: that interesting young men were interested in me, for both sex and relationships, and that I should have let myself experience some of that rather than living in terror of a misstep and letting low self-esteem sabotage many a potential relationship, be it a casual one or a more serious one.

    Utter crap, the partriarchy’s set of sexual rules for women is.

    Happily partnered now, I’m lucky I was self-aware enough to recognize that one of the hallmarks of a real relationship that stands a chance of working is that there is none of this bullshit.

  37. WishyWashy – Yea, I just went through my late teens/early 20’s in the manner you describe and now I sit here, reeling. Utter nightmare. I wish I could have seen what was right under my nose, I wish I could choose both (a) and (b).

  38. I’m fortunate that I’ve always seen men as equals, and I know I can’t be loved, or love, if I don’t love myself and stand up for my needs. If a man can’t love me despite my receptiveness, I can only remind myself that I don’t want men in my life who don’t want me.

    I’m lucky, though, to have met and shared my life with so many wonderful men who appreciated me and encouraged me to be strong and independent. I’m still lucky, to have the best man I’ve ever met promising his entire future to me. I only know I deserve it because I love myself as much as I love him. I know I’m fortunate because I’m painfully aware of how rare my circumstance is.

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