the c word

when we are young, we are taught that there are words we cannot say. hell is only okay in sunday school. words like damn and even crap will get you into trouble. when we get older, we realize that words like fuck are used regularly in our society (but we still should not say them around our parents). we also learn that there are new words that we Really Cannot Say, Ever. one of these words is cunt.

let's start the examination of the word with this: say the word cunt. listen to the hard consonants, the way it feels on your tongue. sounds good, doesn't it? it sounds strong. harsh. it is not a word used without conviction. now say the word vagina. listen to the nasal tones, the whiny edge the letters make when strung together. it is quite possibly one of the least sexy words in the english language. can you imagine saying the word "vagina" to your lover in the heat of the moment? it sounds so clinical and sterile, which is probably not the mood you'd be going for. and finally, the third word in the female genitalia trinity: pussy. i just can't take it seriously. it just sounds ridiculous. the double s fades off into nothing and slips off your tongue like you never said anything. it sounds like a parody of sexuality, like britney spears grinding away with a snake draped around her.

i'm willing to bet that when britney spears talks about her bits, she says pussy. my gynecologist says vagina. i say cunt.

of course, the sound of the word cunt has become irrelevant. it is one of the few taboo words in our society. you don't go throwing the word cunt around. but i am a strong believer in the power of reclaiming words. after all, the word cunt originates from a place of power. in ancient halcyon days, it was a title given to women of power. and there is still great power in this word. many people believe it is the worst word you can say. there are people who live their entire lives without letting this word pass their lips. as someone who has loved words all my life, i do not believe that a word can be inherently good or bad. for example: if some misogynist asshole called me a cunt, i would slap him silly. but to see more women take back this word and make it their own, that would be even more satisfying for me than slapping some guy.

however, not all "taboo" words can be used by everyone. for example, racial slurs. black people have recently began reclaiming the n word (that is the one word that i cannot bear to say). this is a word that only belongs to them, because they are the ones who have been persecuted by others through the use of this word. another example is fag, which is something that many gay men now use (although personally, i don't use this word. i cannot stand the way it sounds, so ugly) or dyke (i love this word as well, and sometimes use it to describe myself. words like dyke and queer seem to have a much broader interpretation of sexual identity than the terms gay and lesbian, which have always seemed a bit restricting for me)

my relationship with the word cunt started off as fairly typical. it was a word that should Never Be Said, Ever. it was the worst thing you could call a woman, and therefore it was a word rooted in evil. this all changed when i walked into a bookstore a bit after my great feminist awakening and wandered over to the women's section. i was looking through the books when i saw the spine of one book in particular. the title of the book was cunt. and my mind said,
woah.
back up a minute,
there is a book called cunt?
in the women's studies section?
what? you can't do that!
there's a flower on the spine!
why is it pretty?
don't these people know that cunt is a Bad Word?(?!?!?)
i pulled out the book and looked down on it. the cover was so simple and so complex. it was a happy looking thing, a calm blue background. there was a picture of a orange flower, petals wide open. and there's that word: cunt. the negativity i associated with this word contrasted violently with the serenity of that cover. i read the back cover. then i read it again. i went back to the bookstore three more times, always just to look at that book. then finally, i worked up the courage to buy it. i looked at the cashier with sureness. yeah, i was buying a book called cunt. i was expanded my horizons, goddammit! you looking at me, punk?

of course, my relationship with the word cunt changed completely after i read inga muscio's enlightening, moving, life-altering book. and "life-altering" is not something a term i throw around. especially not about books. i don't fuck around with my literature. seriously, if you have not read the gospel of inga then get your ass out there and get your hands on the book cunt (and when you're done with that, get her second book autobiography of a blue-eyed devil. it's about racism in america, and i am halfway through it and am unable to put it down. inga muscio is fucking amazing. i would be perfectly content to just sit at her feet and listen to any wisdom she feels like giving while i knit various clothing items). i began to fall in love with the word. i had always tried to find a word that fit me and my bits. i've already mentioned my dislike of vagina and pussy, and let me go on to tell you that i can't stand repressed terms like "down there" that are only used by coy women's magazines. now that i had gained an understanding of the word cunt, i felt like i had found the word i was looking for. if only i could find someone to say it to.

and then: march, this year. a restaurant fifteen minutes from my high school, with amazing pasta. prep and i were having lunch, having a discussion on words we hated. a said, "you know what i can't stand?" she darted her eyes from side to side, leaned forward and mouthed the word cunt. ah. "i hate that word", she said emphatically. and then again: may. prep driving the car, me sitting shotgun. all of a sudden, the word cunt pops up in her sentence. she went onto say, "i love that word!" "so do i!" i said excitedly. i don't know how it happened, but prep had suddenly discovered the power of cunt. the word shows up in our conversations now and then, and every time i say it i feel the same strength inside. and one of my favorite memories of prep: a sleepover at my house, some time after we had discovered our mutual love of the word cunt. a sudden thought strikes my mind, and i rush over to my bookshelf with excitement. "looklooklook!" i tell her, and she does. she looks down and sees the bright blue cover, the orange flower, the title: cunt. her eyes opened with surprise, her mouth broke into an open grin, she was stunned speechless in an almost comical way. but i didn't laugh, because seeing her amazement was like watching a little kid at disney world. if that is not proof of the power of cunt, then i don't know what is.

state of the union

things that i am fond of right now
-rewatching buffy. i'm still in the beginning of the first season. everyone's clothes are so weird. lots of plaid. lots of miniskirts. lots of sarah michelle looking incredibly young wearing lip gloss and a push-up bra in bed. i'm watching teacher's pet now, with the big-ass bug in it. it's always funny when giant animals show up. like all the snakes! they really wanted to put that snake costume to use, huh? must've been expensive. and there's heavy metal in this episode too! i forgot about that. hahahaa. can't believe i found angel so attractive when i was fourteen. i must've had some sort of iron deficiency that caused that. i find myself now lusting after his leather jacket instead of him.
-woxy and the current. so much good music, go listen now. seriously, i was having some sort of musicgasm when i first was recommended it
-lolcats. the lolcat bible. my cat. garfield without garfield. cats in general.
-my friend prep being inspired to start a blog! http://thepreposterous.blogspot.com go check it out!


things i am not find of right now
-katy perry. i'm sorry, i don't get the appeal. she's a cute girl, though
-fox news. referring to michelle obama, wife to barack and mother to two girls, as "obama's baby mama"? not fucking on.
-a six-foot long black python being found in an australian toilet. thisclose to snakes on a plane, people.
-stephanie klein's new book, moose. loved her first, straight up and dirty. love her blog, greek tragedy (wish i had got that name first). but this one...not so much. her style is still great. but i just can't bring myself to care about fat camp and her being overweight as a child. i get that it sucked for her, but it's just kind of boring. i dunno. it's not horrible, i'm just disappointed. why couldn't she have just picked a more compelling story? she doesn't seem to really go into her feelings deeper than "this really sucks". i would've been happier if she had just published a book of baby pictures. seriously, her twins are so freaking cute.
-and about babies, what the hell is going on with me? all of a sudden i have baby fever. i think up names for my children and coo uncontrollably when i see babies and think about how cool being pregnant would be. what the fuck is this? i don't even like children! i'd be a shitty mom even if i wasn't, you know, sixteen years old. i shouldn't even be thinking about babies. this is really disturbing. i think one of my ovaries exploded and released all this estrogen into my body that's making me consider kidnapping small adorable children. previously mentioned friend a went through this period a year or so ago where she desperately wanted a baby to the point of actually planning to have one right then. so maybe i'm not being completely abnormal. but still, you guys. can ovaries explode? i'm guessing i would feel it if my ovary exploded.

i am not a kitty

so the other day prep and i were walking down an alleyway. it was bright outside and we were traveling in a pair, so i felt pretty safe. we walk past this guy fixing his car and he looks up and sees us. he calls out, hey ladies how ya doing? i'm a bit startled, as i always am when i get a catcall, so i mutter out, fine. we pick up our speed, walk a little faster. then he meows at us. yes, i am serious. this grown man fucking meowed at us.

now, this story is pretty funny. every now and then prep will meow at me and we'll burst out laughing. but i can't think of this story without thinking of another one:
i was younger, fourteen with skinny spider legs. it was one of the first warm days in a long time. spring was coming, and i was out of school early that day, and was content to just sit on a park bench and sip my drink and read my book. just minding my own business. trying to ignore the shifty looking guy who kept looking at my little kid legs and my new pink miniskirt that i had loved so much on first sight. a strong breeze pulled the skirt back, and i hastily covered up my exposed thighs, my pale moon skin. and this man with his eyes all over me, this man who could have been my father's age, said, "nice thighs, baby". i was fourteen, so much more fragile than i am today. and his words crawled inside me like a cancer. i felt shame. i threw away my drink. i walked away from the bench. i went home. i never wore that skirt again.

why did i feel ashamed that day? that was not my shame to bear. an older creeper made a sexual, completely inappropriate comment to a young girl. it is obvious that he was in the wrong. but that shame, it stuck with me. i still feel it in my gut whenever i come up against a street harraser, an animalistic reaction that seems almost out of my control. by the time it passes, the harasser is long gone and i'm left stewing, with a thousand responses in my brain, all the comebacks i will never say. the logical: i could be your sister. i don't deserve to be talked to that way. the emotional: fuck you. get away from me. but nothing comes out. all silence. and that? pisses me off. to be intimidated into silence for no reason other than i'm a girl. just a girl trying to make her way from point a to b.

i realize that street harassment isn't as monumental a problem as racial genocide or forced sterilization. but you know what? women have enough bullshit to deal with in their lives. why should we have to put up with this? these men who think our bodies are pieces of meat that they can look at and comment on and touch and have for their very own. so we don't let them intimidate us. we do not give them the power to silence us. we don't let them get away with this shit. and here's how: holla back. it's a project that originated in new york city and has now spread to many major cities. women snap pictures of their harassers and post pictures on the holla back blog (the original is at http://hollabacknyc.blogspot.com/). awesome. check out the site, laugh at the silly pervs and their stunning lack of originality (with the exception of meow man), and next time some idiot on the street tells you that your dress would look so much better on the floor of his bedroom, don't let it ruin your day. snap a picture of the idiot and post it up.

oh, and to the truck driver who called me a puta the other day? fuck you.

blub

these are pictures of lesbian activists phyllis lyons, 83, and del martin, 87, at their first legal wedding. they were wed last night in san francisco's city hall. they have been partners for 55 years.

this is such an amazing day. and pictures like these make me cry a little (okay, more than a little). congratulations to all the couples who are now able to marry in california. i wish you joy for the rest of your lives together.

the nature of marriage

so the other day i read something that's been stuck in my mind ever since. an old classmate of mine has a facebook application stating his political beliefs. on the subject of gay marriage, he said that he was for civil unions, but not marriage. he said that "marriage is a privilege, not a right". what i want to know is, what exactly have gay people done to miss out on the "privilege" of marriage. what have straight couples done to be awarded this privilege? other than, of course, be "normal".

i could go on for ages debunking all the shitty arguments against gay marriage. but what about the arguments made by gays themselves? let me explain: i read an article in bitch magazine (loooove) about how some gay right activists argue that gay people don't need to get married. their logic is that marriage is inherently an oppressive institution and that gay people don't need or want to be like straight people. i'm not sure what exactly i think of this. when i first started reading about feminism, i decided that marriage might be for some people, but sure as hell not for me. it seemed terrifying, to throw yourself into a relationship and commit for life and then be faced with a 50% chance of failure. and if you're in the unlucky 50%, then there's a big old scar on your heart that never goes away. but i've never truly bought into the belief that marriage is by definition an oppressive thing. as for gay marriage, i don't believe that making gay marriage legal means that gay people will become conformists. i see it as an issue of legal equality. gay marriage should be legal for those who choose that marriage is right for their relationship. that, for me, is the bottom line.

bonjour

so. first post.

i should probably start with an introduction, yeah? my name is alexandra. i'm sixteen years old, and i live in a small midwestern town. i have lived in said town all my life and have recently discovered how homogenous and conservative it is. i don't really blend in here. this used to bother me, a lot. it doesn't so much anymore.

i think that i've always been a feminist, even when i was a kid. but it was only fairly recently that i got my "feminist wake-up call" as i think of it. on a whim last fall i picked up a copy of susan faludi's backlash. things just seemed to click after that. i read jessica valenti's full frontal feminism, which was like the gateway drug to feminism. i started reading books, blogs, magazines, getting as much information as possible. i began to develop opinions and then voicing them, louder and louder as my confidence grew. when i became op-ed editor of my school newspaper, i used the space to write about sexism in the election and plan to write a lot more next year.

basically, last year was the year i came out of the closet in most aspects of my life. i came out as bisexual to my family and to an extent, my school, when i started dating my first girlfriend. i started to refer to myself as a liberal and a feminist. although i still struggle to have the courage to show my true self, especially as an extremely shy person, it's so much easier for me to stop hiding and start talking about the things that are important to me.

however, talking to my family proved difficult. my parents took my bisexuality very hard, and would much prefer to stay in denial about it. they also are not fond of hearing of my political beliefs and my "obsession" with feminism, as my mother once put it. friends are difficult as well, as many kids at my school are pretty apathetic about politics. my best friend (who i will be referring to as "prep") is probably the only person who i can talk politics with, although that too is difficult as she's a staunch conservative and we usually end up frustrated and yelling at each other. so i need a place to express my opinions, make my voice heard, and work on my writing, which is something that has been inportant to me all my life. so i decided to throw my hat into the blogosphere. so, here it goes. here's what i have to say. you can like it, you can hate it, but all i ask is that you listen to it. and hopefully some of it will resonate with you.