You know how there’s a theory that no two people see a colour the exact same way.
Does that mean colour is like
a pigment of your imagination.
From seanan_mcguire’s posting on Sexism, the current SFWA kerfuffle, and “lady authors:” in the comments, via jenk, a long lovely passage from Dorothy L. Sayers’ 1947 essay, “The Human-Not-Quite-Human”. Read the whole thing. The perception of this problem is nothing new… (via dduane)
I love me some Dorothy L. Sayers.
dudes who equate feminism with equality with being allowed to punch ladies are so fucking scary. like, how badly do you want to punch girls, dude? how is that the first and most important part of equality for you?! WHY DO YOU WANT TO HIT LADIES SO BAD?! how often are you thinking about this?! i am terrified.
For months, every morning when my daughter was in preschool, I watched her construct an elaborate castle out of blocks, colorful plastic discs, bits of rope, ribbons and feathers, only to have the same little boy gleefully destroy it within seconds of its completion.
No matter how many times he did it, his parents never swooped in BEFORE the morning’s live 3-D reenactment of “Invasion of AstroMonster.” This is what they’d say repeatedly:
“You know! Boys will be boys!”
“He’s just going through a phase!”
“He’s such a boy! He LOVES destroying things!”
“Oh my god! Girls and boys are SO different!”
“He. Just. Can’t. Help himself!”
I tried to teach my daughter how to stop this from happening. She asked him politely not to do it. We talked about some things she might do. She moved where she built. She stood in his way. She built a stronger foundation to the castle, so that, if he did get to it, she wouldn’t have to rebuild the whole thing. In the meantime, I imagine his parents thinking, “What red-blooded boy wouldn’t knock it down?”
She built a beautiful, glittery castle in a public space.
It was so tempting.
He just couldn’t control himself and, being a boy, had violent inclinations.
Her consent didn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like she made a big fuss when he knocked it down. It wasn’t a “legitimate” knocking over if she didn’t throw a tantrum.
His desire — for power, destruction, control, whatever- - was understandable.
Maybe she “shouldn’t have gone to preschool” at all. OR, better if she just kept her building activities to home.
I know it’s a lurid metaphor, but I taught my daughter the preschool block precursor of don’t “get raped” and this child, Boy #1, did not learn the preschool equivalent of “don’t rape.”
Not once did his parents talk to him about invading another person’s space and claiming for his own purposes something that was not his to claim. Respect for her and her work and words was not something he was learning. How much of the boy’s behavior in coming years would be excused in these ways, be calibrated to meet these expectations and enforce the “rules” his parents kept repeating?
There was another boy who, similarly, decided to knock down her castle one day. When he did it his mother took him in hand, explained to him that it was not his to destroy, asked him how he thought my daughter felt after working so hard on her building and walked over with him so he could apologize. That probably wasn’t much fun for him, but he did not do it again.
There was a third child. He was really smart. He asked if he could knock her building down. She, beneficent ruler of all pre-circle-time castle construction, said yes… but only after she was done building it and said it was OK. They worked out a plan together and eventually he started building things with her and they would both knock the thing down with unadulterated joy. You can’t make this stuff up.
Take each of these three boys and consider what he might do when he’s older, say, at college, drunk at a party, mad at an ex-girlfriend who rebuffs him and uses words that she expects will be meaningful and respecte, “No, I don’t want to. Stop. Leave.”
The “overarching attitudinal characteristic” of abusive men is entitlement.
It’s just really fucking upsetting, that you can have a totally ok day, but then come home to find comments on your facbook, people saying that they wish they could scream at fat people for doing things that EVERYONE does, like taking elevators and just existing in public in general. And then you just end up feeling like the grossest fucking thing on the planet. Because they seem to believe shit like fat people never hear critisism. Like, they make a comparison that you can tell a smoker that smoking kills them, but you ‘can’t tell a fat person that fat kills them’, and, like, not only is that not always true, but FAT PEOPLE ARE TOLD THAT DAILY. BY EVERYFUCKINGONE. FUCK YOU.