All You Need Is Love (and a swift kick to the...)

Those that know me are aware I have a high penchant for posting ridiculously long Facebook status updates. I'm going to try and divert those to my blog now. Maybe it means I might update this bloody thing more often (and those who know me are also aware of how unlikely that is).

So, the... problem? That's the wrong word. I don't know the right one for this situation. It's not a problem, I guess it's a good thing... Anyway, I've been breaking the social stereotype of body image and my attitude towards it.

I admit, I wasn't happy with my body for a long time. This made me critical of other's bodies as well. I guess I figured so long as there were people out there bigger than me, I was still okay and I had somewhere to direct the hatred I recieved from other people, and myself. I didn't have the best of reactions to people I thought were 'unhealthy' (unhealthy being what I deemed 'overweight'). I never called someone fat to their face, but I was very critical. I laughed at the movies depicting bigger people as these toddling, socially awkward beings. I giggled, but awkwardly, at the pictures with 'funny' captions but at the same time would defend to the death my larger friends from bullies. I was in this strange dual-mindset where I still loved my friends and found them attractive as well, but I would still hate myself, still laugh at the jokes, somewhat self-depricatingly I admit. Now that I'm older I've realized so long as you are *healthy* it doesn't matter your size.

And having to admit that I used to think like this brings a feeling of shame and disgust. That I am admitting to this, and my previous body issues, that I so thoroughly hated myself that I judged others just because they were "uglier" so I wasn't so disgusting in comparison... I'm ashamed of the person I used to be. I was a person of circumstance, but still... I'm ashamed I even looked at someone who wasn't thin and thought them unhealthy and gross. I thought my feelings of attractiveness towards bigger women was strange and abnormal (and this was after trying to comprehend finding women attractive at all). Being fat was being unhealthy. How could I find it attractive? People aren't meant to be that size, I thought. There must have been something wrong with me. After all, I was big and I was ugly. How could someone else be big and beautiful?

So I made a cutoff point. After a certain size, a certain number of rolls, or if their breasts didn't compensate for their bellies, then they weren't healthy. Or attractive. Even if my brain thought they were pretty, I wouldn't allow myself to think that. They couldn't be pretty. Because I wasn't pretty.

I know now that it doesn't matter how you look, someone finds you beautiful. Just because you don't find someone attractive doesn't mean someone else doesn't (and that is including yourself). Your personal tastes are not a reflection of what "beauty" is and has no say on other people's opinion of what is "beautiful" or "sexy".

That being said, it's making a lot of posts I'm seeing nowadays along the lines of "Oh god, that girl is fat/ugly isn't she? Here, let me post this picture, with a 'funny' caption of 'look at this ugly bitch' so we can all laugh at someone we don't know, and are judging just because we don't like how she looks" all the more hurtful.

In a way I'm grateful to myself for having the comprehension to now understand my formerly critical thinking. I'm grateful I appreciate my body more days than not. I'm grateful I appreciate other people's bodies more days than not. I'm grateful my knee-jerk reaction isn't always an appalled or insecure giggle to body-hating jokes. I'm grateful I can look at these images and not find them funny, but depressing.

But having the knowledge and the acceptance means that my Facebook feed is occassionally tinged with bitterness, hate, and pain. It means I know that even if I say anything I will not be understood by those who haven't reached that comprehension on their own yet. If I say anything, I will be accused of "taking it too seriously" or that "it's not healthy, here's statistics, they're a fat, ugly cow and should be taken out back and put down". I don't care what you or your statistics say, I'm aware that being overweight can some times negatively impact your health. But therein lies the rub doesn't it? "Some times". I'm aware that it's not the only reason and a person being overweight does not automatically equal unhealthiness.

I'm also aware as well that telling someone they're a "fat, ugly cow" is not only rude and cruel, it's demotivating and unproductive in general. Do you really think that someone who likely already has self esteem issues wants to hear about how a total stranger thinks they're ugly? Or how their best friend constantly makes them feel guilty for eating?

I've known thin people that are unhealthy, I've known big people that are healthy, and vice-versa. So long as you are *healthy* you shouldn't give two figs about your size. You are who you are and that is beautiful.

Be healthy, be lovely. How you "look" is irrelevant.

Sitting here with a broken heart right now. Fuck, being body-positive hurts like a bitch sometimes.

I need feminism because...

Pic from here!

Ah I still remember it fondly. I was seventeen, I was a month away from high school graduation, I had been accepted to go to university in the fall for Computer Science.

I was just finishing up my Grade 12 Comp class, our final project was to go through all the specs on the new laptops on the market and find the one with the best specs with the cheapest price. My comp sci teacher was a genius who taught us all about good laptops and with over twenty students was able to take his pick of which new laptop he would buy that year from our assignments. Whichever he decided on in the end, the person who's assignment he picked it from got the top mark and the rest of us were graded accordingly. He got a new laptop, and we learned the valuable lesson of researching before we buy. A lesson I'm still grateful for.

I'm on a music trip with my other classmates, we're in Toronto and in the mall. There's a science/tecnology expo. Numerous displays and plenty of informed people around to answer questions.

I'm feeling pretty good. We're going to the opera tonight, I have my hair straightened and flipped out a bit, my makeup is nice, I'm wearing contacts (a rare occasion), I have my favourite dress on.

A certain display catches my eye. Laptops. Laptops everywhere. Shiny, new, whirring and humming. I think I can almost feel the buzz of running electricity and technology on my skin, in my veins. A techie at heart, I'm drawn in, and why not? I can peruse, get some updates on what's new on the market before I make my final pick on what laptop I'll buy for the start of my new program.

There's a person there, a worker with the display. He looks not too much older than me. Someone my own age who I could talk to, who could relate with me, I could build a rapport. I'm more comfortable around people my own age right now. I'm only 17 after all. I'm relaxed and excited at the same time. I'm prepared and smiling. I begin cursory introductions and talk about how I'm looking for a laptop. I don't have time to mention about my shiny, new program, my research, and what I want.

The words "I'm looking for a laptop" come out of my mouth and I instantly lose all control of the situation.

They have a newer model on the market, brand new, look at the newness, isn't it shiny? See the size. It's small and lightweight. It's under fifteen lbs, new on the market. It's not heavy at all.

It comes in pink.

Finally reattaching my brain to the rest of my body again I manage enough connection between brain and mouth to stammer "What's the bus speed?".

The reaction is hesitation, a blank stare. I repeat my question. He shakes his head and tells me the answer. I shake my head in the negative and tell him the lowest bus speed I would accept.

I ask him the RAM, tell him again the answer is unacceptable. I need 4GB. What's the chip? He haultingly answers my questions, his face scrunching up in confusion like a puppy. You're kidding right? I want dual-core. What's the laptop size? No, I want 17 inch. Yes I realize it's heavy. I'm aware of this. I want the bigger screen so I can play video games and not have to squint and on that note, what's the graphics card like?

He finally finishes answering my questions. I say thank you for your time, I was just browsing but I thought to check out the new toys on the market before making my pick for the new semester at university for Computer Science.


I watch the look of dawning comprehension. There's a hint of respect as well.

I think of the effort, and the arguing, and the sheer and utter frustration I've just been subjected to, just to finally at the end see that respect I deserved from the start.

I despair.

I've never forgotten.

Issues With "Gender Expression"

I've been getting into interesting debates, well not debates per se, discussions more, as of late regarding gender, identity and the variations thereof. 

Getting into a discussion involving the latest most-popular "Native sayings" photos to spam the feed-market (I quote-mark for not just scepticism on my part but the sheer number of these photos that have either been misquoted or entirely made up), I got into a discussion involving the term "two-spirited" which I was originally led to believe meant "one that is both male and female/performs both male and female roles". Which is not entirely true apparently. It's not an inaccurate definition necessarily, but two-spirited is apparently meant more as a broad-based term for a fluid sexuality. One that is not entirely male or female or fits into those specific solitary roles.

That's not really relevant to the point I want to make but anyway, it got me thinking. Someone that performs a masculine and feminine role...

It's interesting for me, because I have feminine traits but am also masculine in ways. I still define myself as a woman though. So there's a part of me that finds it kind of funny that we've to created these specific depictions for how a certain gender is supposed to act and then call it abnormal if someone is female but "acts like a male/is butch" or a man "acts like a woman/is femme". I mostly think, how about we all act not masculine or feminine, but just like a different, special person and keep the boxes that determine fe/maleness out of it?

Why exactly if someone defines as a woman but works construction and has short hair, she's butch? Or she's trying to be a man. If a woman defines herself as a woman, then she is one. That's it. It doesn't matter if she wears baggy clothes, or ballcaps, or works physically demanding jobs, or is even short-tempered, or strong-willed, she's still a woman. Just like a man that is soft-spoken, who likes roses, and rom-coms, and works in a hair salon, is still a man, if that is what he defines as.

And how sad is it exactly that I'm forced to relay the extreme sides as though they should be so strikingly odd?

Why do we have gender labels and definitions? Why can't a woman wear perfume but like working out? Why can't a man like boxing but also flowers? Why have we crammed ourselves into these tiny little gender boxes and live our lives in fear of trying something new, something we could be really good at even, for fear of breaking the societal norm of what "feminine" or "masculine" is? Fuck the words "feminine" and "masculine". We're goddamn people. We are women, or men, or neither, or both, or whatever. We're whatever the fuck we want to be, no matter what our actions are.

We shouldn't have to be afraid of expressing a part of us, for fear of being labelled a "butch" or a "femme" or a "fag". If I say I'm a woman, I'm a goddamn woman. If I say I'm a man, I'm a goddamn man. If I say I'm neither, I'm neither. If I say I'm both I'm both. My "gender expression" should have nothing to do with my "gender identity" and that we have a term "gender expression" actually bothers me just a bit.

And I return back to that thought "one that performs male and female roles"

Well that's my problem isn't it? Male and female roles. What are those exactly? Men in the field, women in the kitchen? What is the definition of a male and a female role and aren't they constantly changing? As we broaden our definitions of "male and female roles" I wonder: are the terms "masculine" and "feminine" truly useful anymore? They don't describe a person's identity, they describe their expression. And considering some people's idea of a female role is to be in the kitchen, any man that cooks is no longer "masculine". Any woman that works construction is no longer "feminine". And the ideas of the two would change depending on each particular person's idea of a gender role.

Honestly, I don't think there are many people anymore that are not both "masculine" and "feminine" in ways. Feminine is used to describe an action that is seen as being female, masculine an action that is seen as being male. But men wear makeup and it doesn't make them women (actors anyone?) and women in some cultures now wear jeans and that definitely didn't make them men. Which just makes us all people doesn't it?

Which makes the words rather unnecessary. To try and actually honestly label us under two words, masculine or feminine is bloody ridiculous. Depending on your perception, we can all show tendencies of both.

Really, our identity is what we say it is and our expression has nothing to do with it.

(So long as we keep within the human spectrum. I'm sorry, but if you say you're a flying purple space monkey, that's still highly unlikely to be true, no matter how much you wish you were.)

Hi, I'm bi

Hi I’m bi:

You’re wondering why?

Well I like girls and I like guys
It’s not just something I wanted to *try*
And it’s definitely not me living a lie

If there’s someone cute I spy
Then I might give them the eye

No matter the gender if I think they’ll reply
If I don’t play shy (but I’ll probably play shy)

And it’s not a phase by the by
I’m not straight and haven’t met the right guy
I’m not gay and won’t let my rainbow flag fly

You *can* like both genders (or all or none) fyi
And your ignorance just makes me want to cry

I don’t agree with what you’re trying to imply
It’s my rage that keeps me tongue-tied

So if you think to vie
What I choose to live by
Who are you to ask who am I?

I am a friend and I am an ally
Your expectations I will defy
I’m open-minded, sweet as pie (though sometimes wry)
And no matter my choices I will testify
I will not deny

I. Am. Bi.

So I've been muddling with the idea of a musical. Here, have some song lyrics.

It's based on preconceptions and it's meant to be a comedy

Being A Blonde

Iiiii am the girl with golden hair

It tends to fly everywhere

But I don’t care

For iiiiin it’s beauty and it’s radiance

It gives me a confidence

I’d like to share

It’s briiighter than any gold

And as well I’ve been told

It could outshine the sun

So whyyyy

Because of my hue do all of you

Continue to insist I can’t resist

That cause of my hair that’s everywhere

I must. Be. Dumb?

I mean really

Is that all you see

When you look at me?

Can it be?

I mean really

Does it matter so

That my hair’s aglow?

Don’t you know?

Just because my hair shines with a wondrous golden light

Doesn’t mean that in my head I’m not very bright

Just because my hair is a particular shade or hue it

Doesn’t mean the rest of me is particularly stupid

I’ve got the grades to prove it

I suppose it doesn’t change it

I can’t really rearrange it

What you think and say

I suppose I could talk and talk and talk

Until I’m blue and you’d just walk away

So I suppose until I go and dyyye my hair

You’ll keep thinking that there’s just a peanut in there

Being Redhead

 

Because of my head
I must stay in bed
For if I should leave
I would get teased
And mocked at
And laughed at
And beaten

I must have no soul
I must be so cold
For it must be
I have no fee-
Lings at all
Not an ounce
So I get trounced

I’m a red-head
So they hit me
Til I’m senseless
Cause it’s funny
Well it’s not!

Kick a ginger
Watch her crying
Try it mister
Cause we’re not buying
It

She must be faking it
She has to be faking it
Cause she’s just cold
Cause she has no soul
So it can’t hurt at all
Here watch her fall

Again

Being Brunette

I’m a brunette
And I’m pretty
I’m a brunette
And I’m witty

So guess what?

I’m a slut

I’m a brunette
And I’m kind
I’m a brunette
And I speak my mind

So you know what?
I’m a slut

I can’t just be nice
I can’t just be sweet
In a paradise
Oh it would be neat

If I wasn’t a whore
Because of my col“ore”

No matter how many no’s
No matter how many but’s
As far as it goes
I must be a slut

Can’t have guy friends
I must be doing em
Can’t have girl friends
I must *want* to be doing em

...Or I *am* doing em

I can’t deny it
No ifs, ands or buts
They’ll say I’m lying
Cause I’m just a slut

Being Gay (unfinished)

Hey I’m gay!

Watch me be fey!

Utterly fab and a-ok!

Have to be grand!

Can’t be who I am…

I don’t like sparkles,

I don’t like flounce,

don’t wanna prance,

don’t wanna bounce!

‘Tween grey and pink,

sure, I’d choose the latter,

but why does it matter?

Just cause I like dudes,

I have to choose

between ratty jeans

and high-top shoes?