FINALLY catching up on series 5 of Misfits! <3
Only my mother calls me doctor.
reasons Steven Colbert will aways be my favorite news anchor
Photo set by Mike Boike
Misato by Ochiba
The very lovely GoreCoreKitty as Rarity from My Little Pony. Taken at Anime Expo ‘13.
Wonderful Rarity photos taken by the very talented Jon :]
ThE WAY RANDY SAYS SHELLEY MAKES ME LAUGH EVERY TIME
I sometimes wonder if the whole reason women started the ‘equal rights’ movement was to have a reason to dress like whores and sluts. I work retail - and hey, more power to a confident woman but today more than ever I see less and less fabric covering women and the same style on men since the 1800’s. I just have no idea what to make of it. On one hand you have the strength and freedom to do as you please, dress as you please, and make your own decisions - but does it mean ‘hey, let’s wear those shorts cut so short that my pocket hangs off the pant leg and every time I sit or bend down the fabric pushes my thong deeper into my ass’. I mean, is it any wonder men stare and oogle and don’t know what to say? You’re like a real life page from playboy bunny.
Alright, Imma loose followers for this. I just had to put the confusion out there.
My two cents about the outfit? Pink and green? With black nylons? Come on. You can do better gurl.
Ok, I don’t often go to the trouble of explaining this, but here we are at a point where it is actually relevant so here I am pointing it out. In the media, women are portrayed in terms of a limited number of roles: Mother, Sexpot, Girlfriend, Spinster. Their actions move in terms of these roles, all of which are defined by sex. A mother has had sex, now has kids, and looks after them because as a woman and carrier of babies it is her job to do so. I’m using sexpot because my mom used it as a compliment and it carries different connotations than slut, but this is basically epitomised in the Total Recall remake, wherein a woman literally does not appear on camera for more than five seconds unless she is mindblowingly gorgeous- and sexy. You’ve got women who purportedly have intense combat training falling over themselves to make sexy poses while fighting, even going so far as to shoot guns in elevators at an incredible close range so that we can see that gun pose again. The girlfriend is defined by the fact that she reliably has sex with the same dude, and thinks about him constantly. The spinster isn’t getting any. You may notice that all of these roles are defined by sex. In the sexpot role, which is essentially the most common in “dude” movies, you have actresses taking on roles that let them do nothing but pose, then getting criticized because they can’t bring more depth to the character.
And it’s not just in film that women are defined by their sexualities. When people talk about women’s rights today, they talk a lot less about equal pay than they do about reproductive rights. You have men and women shooting off their mouths about how women should be careful who they open their legs to, but putting none of the same pressures on men. Every day we see another pundit or politician or lawmaker or ‘men’s rights activist’ making claims of “biological facts” that have nothing to do with science; things like women having magical toxins designed to stop rape; things like life starting two weeks before conception, before the sperm even exists. We have a society that alienates rape victims by asking them why they spent time around that guy, what they were wearing that night, why they took that drink, and essentially letting the man go. With male rape victims, we have people mocking them and emasculating them for allowing themselves to be taken advantage of, people essentially telling them that they are not men because they were raped. We think of rape in terms of female weakness, even when it happens to a dude. We think of reproductive rights issues in terms of women, even though they are just as relevant to transmen and genderqueer people. We define women in terms of sex and sex in terms of women.
So don’t tell me that, in a heteronormative, slut-shaming society that attacks anyone it identifies as women in terms of their sexuality, that this woman is not making a statement. She knows, because of her gender representation, because of the color of her skin(Something I didn’t go into here for sake of space and because I have little firsthand experience with it but that you can be sure adds an even higher level of marginalization and sexualization to her image), that people are already thinking of her in terms of sex. She knows that in a society that treats women this way, we have two choices: own it, or let it own us. She chose to own it. That doesn’t mean that the sexism she’s facing is any less powerful. That doesn’t mean that the street harassment against her will be any less hurtful or unjustified. But it makes her identity that much more apparent and unavoidable to those around her.
Women are sexually harassed whether they wear a baggy t-shirt and jeans or a corset and fishnets, so don’t blame us when we pick the latter.
I find it interesting how much various people have read into these images. And I’m reasonably content to let people hash out whatever they’d like to hash out between them.
The presumption that this is a big statement on my part is incorrect. The fact that I’m black is also rarely on my mind except when other people bring it up for their own reasons.
The story behind these photos is simple. My dear friend Caroline was back in town to visit her family and she had a very small window of time to hang out. She hadn’t really given me much notice and I had a lot of errands to do, so we decided to chat while I took care of my errands. Caroline has never seen one of my burlesque shows. She had her camera with her and asked if I’d be willing to put one of my costumes. She thought it would be fun and amusing to contrast the costumes with day to day life. I love Caroline, but I really did NOT feel like indulging her. I was annoyed and grumpy because I just wanted to get through my task list without also having to play the trick monkey. But she asked and asked and wore me down. So I put on some of the costume and crankily hurried through my errands. She ran ahead laughing and turned to snap these shots. Toward the end as I was resigned to the situation, I started to warm up and have a little fun with it, but I was very glad to be able to go home and take that stuff off.
I posted these photos because I found them in a long forgotten folder. I thought my sour expression was hilarious and I remembered how irritable I was that day. And I felt a little sad for Caroline who had to put up with me being such a crankypants when really, she was right — it was amusing. I just didn’t happen to be in the mood that particular day.
And that’s pretty much it.