Sexual Intimidation

•10/09/2011 • 1 Comment

Hey guys! If you’ve been missing me, I’ve been running a daily update blog at Stefani Daily (Kinda). I realized I was having a habit of poppin in every couple of weeks, updating on my life, and missing the point of this blog entirely, so I just made a different place to rant and have non-related thoughts. I’d prefer this blog have quality to quantity.

I was eighteen years old. I had stopped by my campus on a weekend to work on something, but I found I had gotten there before stuff opened. So I was walking around, and I ran into a guy in my friends group. Note that I am not saying, “a friend of mine.” He was a guy I knew to be weird, to be a liar. I also knew he raped my guy at the time’s ex, a girl I genuinely liked. However, I was too nice for my own good, mixed with a bit of “it could never happen to me” and so I sat and talked with him.

He flirted with me, but I discounted it lazily with comments about my boyfriend. But none-the-less, he felt the need to pin me down on the grassy hill we sat on and hold his face within inches of mine.

Despite the fact that he never kissed me, despite the fact that it took some simple lies to get him to let me up, he was six feet tall and ex-military. I felt intimidated and violated, and I didn’t talk to him for a long time. The only reason I ever did again was because the group around me essentially pressured me to forgive him.

-/-/-/-/-

A friend of mine, who I’ll call Tamuril, texted me the other day with (what I feel is) a rather disturbing story. A guy in her group of friends made a comment about biting her. She said, “no, that would hurt,” and changed her body language to cover her neck and self. He made some comments about how if it hurt, the other people were doing it wrong. He could show her the right way.

He dropped it, but brought it back up after a few minutes. So I can bite you, right? You said no, but you never actually asked me not to. “Okay,” my friend says, “please do not bite me.” Some things were said after this, but he eventually dropped it.

The next day, he brings it up again. He says he notices her discomfort and then proceeds to explain why he is into biting her. His explanation, cut down from the six minute version he gave, is “it makes you uncomfortable and I like that”. Then, later in the day, he says that he tends to over analyze, but he thinks his description just made her even more uncomfortable.

This is when I ask who the guy is, because now I’m going to be super feminist and get involved.

This man is at least ten to fifteen years her senior. He is ex-military, a black belt, and bigger than her; and, he is very good friends with her ex of two and a half years, basically being his free (untrained) relationship counselor. So, he also has the knowledge of her emotional and sexual weaknesses to play off of.

-/-/-/-/-

I spent last night at Women Take Back the Night in Sacramento. Side note, this may be the only cool thing about Sacramento, they’ve had their TBtN annually for 32 years, the longest consecutively running TBtN in the country. So, in the morning after, I find myself thinking about consent issues, especially since my friend’s issue is very recent. I know, in some difficult to explain way, that I need to be involved. As much as I adore Tam, she’s not very good at being assertive in situations of her comfort, and I feel like in this situation, she shouldn’t have to. In fact, I think the responsibility for this issue lies on her ex, but he’s “not one to burn bridges,” to the point that I know better than to even ask this of him.

I feel like if somebody doesn’t get in this grown man’s face and tell him how to behave, that my friend’s safety is in question. But what exactly do you threaten an ex-military blackbelt with?

And what is this, anyway?

I think the term would likely be sexual intimidation, but I just want to call it social rape. After my incident with the “friend” years ago, I think I have some level of understanding of how off-putting it is. Your safety comes into question, especially with the person. When your friends don’t back you up, your sanity comes into question. When you’re trying to find some words with mutual cultural understanding, and anything you come up with feels extreme (even if it may, on some level, describe the emotions after) even to the most supportive people, you feel … invisible. You’re aware of a spectrum between safe, innocent and violated, raped; and the world around you acts like it’s an A or B bubble question.

So how do you handle a situation that nobody acknowledges?

This question is two sided: one, how do you handle it in the moment (or aftermath) in relation to your safety; and two, how do you handle it in the cultural sense, making people understand that treating women this way condones rape in a slippery-slope sense? When inch by inch your personal boundaries are pushed and peer pressure makes you respect it every inch of the way?

Busy, busy, busy.

•09/24/2011 • Leave a Comment

Y’all should be proud of me. Currently, I am the second highest grade in my psychology (aka feminism) class. If I had a way to find the person with the highest score, I would seduce them.

It’s been so long since I’ve written for this blog that I don’t even know what to write about. The only thing I really know right now, readers, is I’m on the right track. I’m being exposed to the right things at exactly the right moments and it’s taking me somewhere, somewhere great. I’m finding myself setting goals leniently, because the information I have on my life, the world, and myself is so ever changing that only a fool would take one thing and stick to it unconditionally.

I’m very newly post-breakup. Like, a week ago sort of new. There’s a little part of me that knows I should be totally crushed. Here’s a year of my life, invested in another person, and I’m starting over. Yet, I’m not. Don’t be mistaken, I’m sad to see him go, and I know that this one is likely the real deal, no going back or trying to make it work, end.

But, break ups have a reputation of breaking me. Sad for weeks, or months, trying to get them back, trying to not be treated like an ex-girlfriend, trying to not gain fifteen pounds in misery food. And what happens in that whole time? I lose myself. Maybe because I never had myself in the first place.

This one’s different. I get sad, I miss the good times, and then I go back to the long to-do list I have. I’m an adult now. I can’t lose what little I have as a young person in this world because I want to go back to times that are past. Plus, I don’t have that thing that I had as a late bloomer. Every break up I felt like I wasn’t gonna find somebody again, because I always had pretty thin charming friends who only spent time alone if they wanted it, but I was bigger, and odder, and louder. Being with Cody made me realize though, hey fuck that mentality. I’m with somebody funny, and attractive, and sexy, and tall; I can do this again, this isn’t a fluke.

So I can take this time post-break up and, instead of freaking out that I have to be with myself for awhile, I can work towards my future. I’ve never planned my wants out of life with another person in mind anyway, so why now, when I have classes to pass and people holding me accountable?

Wow, this wasn’t really where I thought this was going at all…

It’s Been So Fuckin’ Long!

•09/07/2011 • 1 Comment

Ohhh. Myyy. Goooood. I always try to not be that d-bag whose like “sorry I haven’t written blahblah” BUT this is really more of an apology to me. Sorry, self, that you’ve been too busy being a student to let your feminist flag fly in it’s natural habitat!

Not that it’s been completely shoved away dying. I’m taking a class right now, it’s technically “Psychology of Women” but it’s really been “Feminism and Why It’s So Fucking Important”. Three weeks ago, I felt like a pretty informed feminist in training. Today, I feel like I’ve learned a lot … and have by far a lot more to learn.

See, I grew up in an, I now know, abnormal dynamic. My dad was the only male in my household – my mom, my sister, myself, even all but a small amount of pets (who were themselves dominated … literally, the male bunny in my pair was a bottom) were female. And my father was, is, and never will be dumb enough to try to be the authority. My. Mother. Is. The. Boss.

I remember, to the great amusement of at least my mom, telling my dad one day while jokingly being forced to pick my favorite, “I’m sorry, I do love you, but I have to pick Mom. Women are just smarter, she told me so yesterday.” I was eight. And seriously, “women are just smarter” was the way I was raised. My dad never really disagreed. Not to say that he was some beacon of forward thinking feminist man, but he at least had enough brain to always see the three of us girls for our potential – as humans, not women. As I got older I got that men were smart too, but I always got how women were amazing, smart, beautiful, more potential than giving birth and getting pregnant again, people.

Now I’m learning that it’s 2011 and researchers still ask the question, “why are women not as smart as men?” Did you know this? Did you know, that the study done that “proved” that gay men have smaller hypothalami than straight men was done on people who died from AIDS, a commonly brain eating virus? I didn’t until five or six hours ago. Did you know that there was a study in the late 19th century that showed that the women were faster, more effective readers than males; and that those results got turned into “well people who can read fast can because they’re liars”? Yeah, and I thought the 19th century was just funny for the (mildly rapey) invention of the vibrator!

But I also have moments where being myself has been … awfully difficult. There is no way to concisely describe my political beliefs to a non-feminist classroom of journalists in the making who have their own damn interests. The one time I tried, I got a look from a man my dad’s age that about said, “a feminist who likes sex in culture? How the fuck is that a feminist?”

Yes, I’m still debating with my insides about when the time will be right to publicly lead my feminist life. The one that says, “fuck yeah a feminist can love sex and porn! If you don’t think a woman can like sex and porn, you’ve obviously never seen the way a woman does sex and porn. Hint, we do it better than you.” Instead of “well … um … I don’t know how to explain myself to you without taking up an hour of your time … and I’m already burnt out on debates for today … just, fuckin think whatever, I don’t care.”

When does a person have the right to be aggressive with their knowledge, and expect people to take them seriously? Is it an age? A degree? A moment? Whenever you have the God damn mojo to expect people to take you seriously?

Barnes and Noble Infuriates my Uterus

•08/21/2011 • 1 Comment

No Links Out Sunday today. The only thing I really feel a need to link, I have a long rant about, so … just expect that link tomorrow?

Also, you may notice my writing style change – hopefully for the better – in the following months. Fate has landed me in a class geared for Publication writing, which I am very excited for and think will help me loads and lots. I want to be able to communicate more clearly in my writing, stop blurring that line between what I know and what others know, and ultimately become skilled enough to be a published writer. So, hope y’all are excited for a better blog to come!

So I’m unsure that I discussed it in this blog, but the resignation of Anthony Weiner – and the disgusting behavior around it, by the watching public – inspired me like nothing else to have my own feminist book collection to research from. That day, I got right on the bus and went over to the nearest bookstore, B&N, to gather some books on the topics of feminism and sex.

It wasn’t an easy search, my instinct was to look in sexuality and found a lot of books like the Kama Sutra. Eventually, I got smart to ask for the section where Jessica Valenti lives and found two bookshelves of Women’s Studies – shoved literally all the way to the back corner. Miffed me a little at the time, but hey, look at all these book options! It took much self control to not walk out of that store with well over a hundred dollars worth of books in my arms, and I barely whittled myself down to three.

So Friday night, I’m hanging out with a couple friends, both guys, both into metal work and blacksmithing, both boring the crap out of me. So I decide, hey, I’m gonna refind that Women’s Studies section and consider what books to get when I’m done with the three I bought (as a book nerd, I feel the need to note that I’m usually a fast reader, but I live in a place where it gets so hot so regularly that the energy is all but literally sucked out of me. I’ve been baffled at the fact that it’s taken me months to get through Slut!). I go back to the section … to find three bookshelves on Sports. Yes, you may have a second to let that irony sink in.

I search the shelves, but all I can find is Cultural Studies. I’m sure Women’s Studies is near here … so I go to the front desk and ask for help in finding the section.

I get led back to Cultural Studies, to a single shelf on the case. Very few of the books have doubles. I am offended.

Oh, but it gets better. Then, amidst Women’s Studies, I find this gem: The Flipside of Feminism. Let me summarize this book for you. “Feminism has made women sad, even if they are powerful and successful; because we are REALLY suppose to be successful as housewives and inferiors to our husbands. Don’t ask feminists about womanhood, ask conservative women!”

Seriously, Barnes and Noble? You get one shelf to pack all of feminism on, and you don’t choose, I don’t know, Gloria Steinem, but THIS JOKE? I literally threw the book off the shelf, placing it face down on an abandoned shelf.

It’s frustrating for me, because I’m not in a financial state to buy books off the internet; and why would I want to? There’s something about going in a section, and being free to pick up a book and look in it based on title, cover design, size. It forces me to be more open-minded about my choices; and in fact, had I been able to find books my first time in B&N that were solely about sex and feminism, I would have missed some great reads that were perhaps more relevant than my “desired” search would have obtained me.

But what is there to take from one shelf? How many questions can that list of books ask, if crap like Flipside is being included? To be fair, they did also have two by Valenti, but they STILL didn’t have Purity Myth – the very book I was looking for the first time I went in, the one that spells out how damaging virginity approaches can be in cultures.

Then I get mad because I know that choices like that aren’t just made by the stores; in fact, they’re probably mostly made by sales. Meaning I’m probably one of the ONLY people in Sacramento who decides to go into a Barnes and Noble and barely refrains from cleaning them out of feminist reads.

It shows up in my own friends. Just last night, as my friend said on facebook “I applaud that this woman thinks – weird statement for discussing a porn star” I debated to myself, do I correct her? It all came to me to say, hey, that’s a myth, a very unkind one at that, that plays on the fact that we feel once a woman is sexualized she can never be unsexualized which HEY IS THE WHOLE POINT OF THE DAMN ARTICLE I JUST POSTED (you’ll see tomorrow). I want it to be my literal job as an adult to correct people’s thoughts on things like this – I desire having an education to back up the claims that porn stars are often educated people, or using it to become educated. Is it my job now, though, to correct my friends? At what point do I stop being Stefani the Sexy Feminist and start being Stefani the Naggy Feminist? Am I to accept that these things go hand in hand and be willing to piss a few friends off?

Somebody needs to make a guide or something. How To Be An Angry Feminist Without Scaring All Your Friends.

Links Out Sunday

•08/14/2011 • Leave a Comment

Let’s just dive right in today, yes? I lack feedback about … anything, really.

Nobody’s Buying This “Men Wearing Pregnancy Suits” Idea by Whitney Jefferson of Jezebel. Maybe it’d be more feminist appropriate of me to post and write on Gloria Steinem’s interviews with Stephen Colbert and Comic-Con, because 1) they’re awesome and 2) it’s freakin’ Gloria Steinem, but I’m posting this quote and story summary instead. I’ve never seen anything so amazing at hitting the nail on the head.

Tim Pawlenty is, Unsurprisingly, A Moron by Bridgette P. LaVictoire of Lez Get Real. Ok, the actually headline is “Feels LGBT Americans are Second Class Citizens” but come on, can we just say these are the same thing already? I mean, if the argument is always “you’re presenting me facts, but I don’t like them, so I’m going to swing around a book of fairy tales and say we should politely disagree” what ISN’T moronic about that? Had #sandyriosisacunt been more of a success, I’d try to follow up with #timpawlentyisamoron. Can I just be frank and put #republicanextremistssuck?

5 Things That Totally Unrelated to Hot, Hot Lesbian Sex by Gladstone of Cracked. This is a good time to mention that I totally didn’t go on a date with a girl this weekend. We didn’t have a good time, it wasn’t awesome, and I’m beyond able to get her out of my head.

Barefoot Gen, English Dub on youtube originally created by Keija Nakazawa. I would normally not post something like this. I’m not much of a movie watcher, this movie has nothing to do with my blog, and I’m not even linking to where it can be bought. See, I read about this movie when I was a young teenager, and knew I had to see it. But it’s difficult to find, especially the english dub, and I had given up on seeing it until a friend posted it on his facebook (which is surprising when I found just how common this story is in Japan, between the manga, the movie, the live action remakes, the musicals, etc etc).

All that being said, this movie is amazing. I don’t want to say too much about the plot, except that it’s autobiographical to Keija surviving the Hiroshima bombing at six years old. It’s haunting. It’s the most successful anti-war piece I’ve seen ever, mainly because it’s a child’s account of being an innocent victim of it all.It will most likely make you sick, make you cry, make you angry at how fucked the world can be – but you have to watch it. Period. It’s also a rare time wherein the melodrama of japanese animation works, because well it’s fucking Hiroshima.

I’m going to attempt to watch the documentary White Light/Black Rain and not cry too much.

My Tumblr. Gonna try to keep my non-sex/porn/gender/feminist/equality/gay/queer/etc-related writings here. Here you’ll get more of a sense of what’s on my mind and in my life.

August 4th, 2011 … the Trashiest Day of my Life

•08/08/2011 • 2 Comments

So I have an ex, he’ll be known on this blog as Cody. You may know him from vague previous mentioning; he’s the one I impulsively fled to Arcata for a week for. He’s adorable, and I like him way more than I should considering he’s an annoying butt and the biggest failure of a gay I’ve ever met.

Anyway, we still hang out pretty regularly and eat sushi like it’s nobody’s business. And hump like it’s going out of style. Usually nothing inform-the-blog worthy, but I had to agree with him when he said this was blog worthy.

I totally have a thing for public sex. When we were together, and even some time after, I’d lament my secret dirty desire for bathroom sex.

The fantasy, what I had in mind, went one of two ways. Way one, we were at my favorite night club, early in the night when the private bathrooms were still open. We’d sneak in, lock the door, and go to town. I’d get bent over the sink, thrown up on the wall, maybe even take advantage of the space and privacy and just go for it on the floor. The club plays industrial and goth, so there’d also be this perfect mood setting of freak music with heavy bass. Then, when it was all done, we’d get on out and party like nothing ever happened.

Except for the whole I’d-totally-be-high-fiving-all-my-friends thing.

Way two, the dirtier way: we were somewhere, maybe the same club. We somehow managed to get into a stall together. For the sake of limited space use, I’m bent over just enough. I have to bite down on my favorite part of sex, the screaming, because people are coming in and out and we have to go unnoticed.

So Thursday, I’m hanging out with Cody. We haven’t had sex in like a month at least, due to some personal issues with how we had been getting along. The goal is to go to his apartment and “play”, but first he has to stop at the Dollar Tree and get some small stuff for his chore list. I find that I really have to pee, so he walks me to the women’s room, which is oddly out of the way. The bathrooms are down a hall, and the women’s is at the end. He takes a chair outside. It occurs to me that the placement of this bathroom, the emptiness of the store … these are perfect conditions … but, no way.

I text him with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. He knows my attraction to public bathroom sex, and I figured he’d appreciate the humor.

I open the door, and wiggle my eyebrow. We share a “heyoh.” I close the door, and open the door to show off my pants under my ass. I close the door, put my pants back on; but he’s come in, pulls them right back down, and puts his penis in me. Holy shit, I think, this is happening. No. Freaking. Way.

He decides where we are isn’t good enough. I start to move into a stall, but instead he grabs me and bends me over onto the sink. Normally, I’d hit a red flag right now. This is major get busted risk, without being in a stall. Yet, I can’t think clearly enough. It feels too good, not to mention my still running disbelief that this is even happening.

He says he’s about to cum, so I turn around and start to suck his dick. He’s always been a real stubborn cummer with anything that isn’t sex or masturbation, in fact in the year that we’ve been regularly boning he hasn’t cum from a hand or blow job. I thought if he was so close now was his chance … yet he just went right back to stubborn. We decided to close up shop, get his things, and finish up at his house.

Then, dick still out, situation still obvious … the door opens.

Yes, you read that correctly. We got caught.

What does the mother fucker do? “Oh, hey, how’re you doin ma’am?”

She closes the door. I stare at him in shock.

“Excuse me,” I say, “I must fake my own death in this stall.”

He leaves, I guess makes brief awkward conversation with the woman who is politely waiting, and I go in a stall. The moment I hear her enter and lock her stall, I run out of the bathroom like a loser. We decide the line is too long, considering our circumstances, and decide to get out.

“Let me get this straight,” he says in his car, “we just had sex, in a Dollar Tree bathroom, and got caught? We, Stef, are officially trashy.”

We drive a block over to the 7/11.

“Hey,” I say, “we can’t get any trashier … wanna finish the job in a 7/11 bathroom?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Links Out Sunday!

•08/07/2011 • 1 Comment

Welcome again, to another week of Links Out Sunday! I’m going to use this time to demand a comment, should you happen to be reading: what would you like to see out of this blog? I’ve been a bit slow around here the last couple weeks, even though this blog is always on my mind, and I figured that I could use some reader help to get the writer juices flowing.

I’m planning a couple updates to this blog for this week, including a crazy sexual experience I was DEMANDED to write about, and my totally-not-sexual-but-still-scary trip to San Francisco. On the other hand, I’ve been a little unsure lately what to write about here, especially since two pieces I wrote and loved I don’t have permission to post just yet.

I think my topic list will broaden in my near future, since I’m taking a sociology-eriffic semester this fall and will be surrounded by The Gays again, but that’s at least three weeks, and I really feel like I should be posting more than these once a week links out.

Should I make a weekly occurrence of discussing crazy personal sexual experiences?

I considered a Porn Star Crush of the Week regular, should I do it?

Is there maybe a legal case relating to polygamy or human rights or sex rights that I should follow?

Come on, reader, be my muse! Especially a certain somebody who I know is reading this on his phone through his e-mail … hem, hem.

The 5 Most Depraved Sex Scenes from Important Cultural Myths by Jim Yew of Cracked. My favorite quote to paraphrase is, “I love the bible … more sex, violence, and crazy than an afternoon soap.” And Cracked, in my mind, never gets enough credit for being freaking awesome. So, awesome article, read, learn!

New Law to Clear Prostitution Convictions for Human Trafficking Victims by Erin Gloria Ryan of Jezebel. Maybe my standards for fellow humans are too high, but I’m kind of mad that they were charged in the first place. VICTIMS, HELLO? Wouldn’t it be like prosecuting Elizabeth Smart for being a sister wife, and then being like “well we’re going to retroactively clear her record, so we’re okay!” Also, I’m learning that Ryan writes nearly every article I love on Jezebel.

Ok, this rant is a little narrow sighted and ignores the psychological damage of pimps who kidnap girls, and boys, who end up in human trafficking. Can we just agree to legalize prostitution?

Lily LaBeau: Our Favorite Scenes On Demand! by Ottimo Massimo of Fleshbot. LaBeau is fucking gorgeous. I’m posting this because I want every porn mentioned on that list. Except maybe Party of Feet.

Sandy Rios is a Fucking Cunt. “The White House is going to cover birth control, breast pumps, abuse counseling, what next, manicures and pedicures? I think that’d be a great idea.” Totally, because abuse counseling is a rare treat in life we like to have after a particularly difficult work week. Makes us feel girly, downright sexy. Help me in starting the hashtag #sandyriosisacunt on twitter. Why? Because in my opinion, this is a fucking ridiculous quote and just because it came from a Fox News Contributor doesn’t mean it should be ignored. If the non watchers aren’t commenting on it because they ignore the medium, and the watchers aren’t commenting on it either, that means there is a whole tv station following full of people who think that abuse is NOTHING.

To respond to a friend of mine, and I’m sure others who don’t get my attitude: he said, “when I saw it not get any notice, I figured it was like people were laughing it off and leaving it be. Like, when you have a severely autistic child, and they smear their own shit on the walls, and everybody around them goes ‘oh, muffins.'” Yeah, it’s true, when you have a child that can’t learn like that, you pretty much have to let it happen, and I’m sure learn to find humor in it. But not only do you have to clean the shit off the walls, but you also have to explain to the other children who saw it happen that they can’t up and start smearing shit on the walls.

Young Pilgrims originally by The Shins, covered by Kelsey Bryant. I’ve loved this girl’s voice for years, and it sort of amazes me that she doesn’t have a larger following. So yeah, check some of her covers out … or her originals for that matter.