Entries by tag: rant
I'ma talk about BOOBS here, so if you don't want to talk about BOOBS for whatever reason look away.
Now the ice is broken, commence feminist ranting. ;)
I'll come right out and say I have small boobs. Until I was about 20 I had no boobs - I got mistaken for a boy if I wore trousers, even when the trousers were girly ones with a chain belt and I had long hair and painted nails and carried a handbag with a large flower on it. Then they grew, which could be down to eating more soy stuff but could equally be down to me being a late developer. I spent a lot of time and energy angsting about this from the age of about eleven, 'helped' by the fact that this became the latest thing for other kids to give me grief about. Nevermind that no other girl my age on the estate had boobs either, and that the boys had no idea which of us did or did not wear what passes for a bra at that age. The popular pinup at that time was Pamela Anderson and it was the heyday of Page 3, partly due to a backlash against Clare Short.
Those factors place me firmly in the target demographic for breast implants. I'll admit that the idea did occur to me, but in the end the idea of unnecessary surgery bothered me more than having small boobs. At some point I discovered that being mistaken for a boy could be useful (anonymity on a protest when you don't want certain people to randomly spot you in the street, or identify you as the person who gave a statement in the press - NOT for pulling straight women) or fun. Being tied to a gender binary sucks. But that's slightly beside the point here.
My point is, I chose not to have breast implants. This does not mean I have an intrinsic moral objection to breast implants. I'm squicked, sure, but my piercings bring out that reaction in some people. I firmly believe that body modification, whether it involves metal or ink or silicone or even obtaining a forked tongue, is a matter of personal choice. Breast implants are not intrinsically misogynist.
What is misogynist as all fuck is that a company thinks it is even vaguely appropriate to cut costs by putting TOXIC SUBSTANCES that haven't been passed for medical use into implants that are going to be put into women's bodies. That just shows total contempt. What did they think was going to happen? PIP should be the ones paying for the implants to be removed or replaced, yes even the ones that haven't caused problems YET.
I don't want to hear anyone saying that the women who got implants 'deserved' to have health problems as a result. That's bollocks. Assuming the women in question followed whatever guidelines they were given in the hospital, this isn't their fault. I wouldn't blame a piercer if my ear became infected because I was shite at cleaning a new piercing or bled because I hit it with the hairbrush - I do blame Claire's Accessories for the fact that the cartlidge piercing I kept scrupulously clean for two years didn't heal in that time. The difference is it wasn't sewn up inside my body so the solution was just to take the earring out - totally free and doable at home. Removing breast implants isn't, so the company responsible need to take responsibility.
Now the ice is broken, commence feminist ranting. ;)
I'll come right out and say I have small boobs. Until I was about 20 I had no boobs - I got mistaken for a boy if I wore trousers, even when the trousers were girly ones with a chain belt and I had long hair and painted nails and carried a handbag with a large flower on it. Then they grew, which could be down to eating more soy stuff but could equally be down to me being a late developer. I spent a lot of time and energy angsting about this from the age of about eleven, 'helped' by the fact that this became the latest thing for other kids to give me grief about. Nevermind that no other girl my age on the estate had boobs either, and that the boys had no idea which of us did or did not wear what passes for a bra at that age. The popular pinup at that time was Pamela Anderson and it was the heyday of Page 3, partly due to a backlash against Clare Short.
Those factors place me firmly in the target demographic for breast implants. I'll admit that the idea did occur to me, but in the end the idea of unnecessary surgery bothered me more than having small boobs. At some point I discovered that being mistaken for a boy could be useful (anonymity on a protest when you don't want certain people to randomly spot you in the street, or identify you as the person who gave a statement in the press - NOT for pulling straight women) or fun. Being tied to a gender binary sucks. But that's slightly beside the point here.
My point is, I chose not to have breast implants. This does not mean I have an intrinsic moral objection to breast implants. I'm squicked, sure, but my piercings bring out that reaction in some people. I firmly believe that body modification, whether it involves metal or ink or silicone or even obtaining a forked tongue, is a matter of personal choice. Breast implants are not intrinsically misogynist.
What is misogynist as all fuck is that a company thinks it is even vaguely appropriate to cut costs by putting TOXIC SUBSTANCES that haven't been passed for medical use into implants that are going to be put into women's bodies. That just shows total contempt. What did they think was going to happen? PIP should be the ones paying for the implants to be removed or replaced, yes even the ones that haven't caused problems YET.
I don't want to hear anyone saying that the women who got implants 'deserved' to have health problems as a result. That's bollocks. Assuming the women in question followed whatever guidelines they were given in the hospital, this isn't their fault. I wouldn't blame a piercer if my ear became infected because I was shite at cleaning a new piercing or bled because I hit it with the hairbrush - I do blame Claire's Accessories for the fact that the cartlidge piercing I kept scrupulously clean for two years didn't heal in that time. The difference is it wasn't sewn up inside my body so the solution was just to take the earring out - totally free and doable at home. Removing breast implants isn't, so the company responsible need to take responsibility.
Christmas is a hard time to be generous and a feminist. We all like to think that we shun the consumerism of chain-store-sanctioned gift sections, but it is becoming ever more difficult in shops to dig out anything that a real person might like among all the "gifts for him" (golf balls) and "gifts for her" (soap). And then you come to the children's presents...
Now let's get one thing straight. I don't think pink intrinsically 'stinks'. It's on the same part of the colour spectrum as red and purple, so it has to have something going for it. My Escher gang in Necromunda wear pink*, because I like the idea of pink-clad ladies with large weapons beating the shite out of a range of Enforcers, Scavvies, Van Saars and whatever else Ducki acquires. Some of the aforementioned weapons are pink and one is getting a pink sparkly heart-shaped nail art sticker when I can be bothered. My study in the new house will be pink until that (preexisting) paint gets tatty enough to replace - it'll have my usual books, desk and various accessories in rather than Disney Princess pictures, but it does nonetheless have pink walls and curtains. Not what I'd choose, but not bad enough to repaint on entry. I own various pink items of clothing, some of which are even appropriate to teach class in. I don't feel that wearing a pink t-shirt or nail varnish weakens my brain** or makes me less good at my job. I prefer purple, red and quite a lot of black, but it's nice to have a change sometimes.
What does stink like dog poo before it goes white is the idea that everything for girls - and to an extent grown women - MUST be pink. And that girls can't like anything that isn't girly, and that women have to have a pink version of everything (none of my household tools are pink, not because I didn't think the pink sparkly ones looked nice but because I'd already heard that they were considerably flimsier than plain ones of a similar price) in order to be able to use it - and that men and boys CANNOT touch any of this stuff or their willies (which in the case of white guys are ironically pink) might fall off.
It also stinks that people make sweeping assumptions about what a boy or a girl might want, right from the moment the child sticks its head out from you-know-where*** with no knowledge of that child's preferences. It's a baby. It wants lots of things to look at and make noises with and chew, Genuine preferences come later, and involve CHOICE at some stage. Don't say that outside influences don't have an impact. I hate Emu to this day because there was a replica at the preschool I went to and one of the teachers used to attack kids with it if we were naughty, and it totally stank. I have a residual impression of being chronically thick because that was what my classmates called me, even though any low marks I got were down to being too busy crying or beating them up to do the work. So if girls are directed towards the frilly pink stuff and boys away from it, then yes that is going to stay with them, regardless of what goes on at home. Even if the family avoid stereotyping at home, the time kids spend out of the house will influence them.
And now more than when I was young - as in when it is my friends having babies rather than my friends' mothers, the linked article having been posted on facebook by a colleague who has just given birth to a baby girl - everything seems more firmly divided into pink and blue, even nappies. (I can incidentally see the point in different boy and girl nappies, because lets face it the pee comes out of different places. But why do girls' ones need princesses on? I would love to let a child of mine shit on Disney, but sadly the illustrations seem to be on the wrong side.
Let's face it - tiny babies don't care what colour they wear, just how the fabric feels against their skin and in their mouth. Ducks, trains, cars, dinosaurs and other imagery popular on kidwear isn't gendered - or shouldn't be. Pink and blue are not the only parts of the colour spectrum. I came to my liking for pink (and purple, red, black, green, etc and ducks, trains, flowers, spiders, murder stories, Canaries and all things goffik) after a childhood which, while far from perfect, at least contained a full colour spectrum.
Luckily Ducki tends to agree with me on this point (although not every gender or childrearing issue) - luckily for him or I might have to do something regretful with a certain pink sparkly item that has been in where babies come out.****
*The Amazon Blood Bowl team, however, will be in yellow and green and have the provisional name of the Birds of Paradise. I may even come up with the Lustrian pronounciation of Delia Smith if necessary.
**Except insofar as inhaling any nail varnish is a bad idea - that's why I don't breathe it in directly... :P
***Because directly mentioning ladyparts would clearly be the last straw in a gender rant post - whoops...
**** And again ;)
Now let's get one thing straight. I don't think pink intrinsically 'stinks'. It's on the same part of the colour spectrum as red and purple, so it has to have something going for it. My Escher gang in Necromunda wear pink*, because I like the idea of pink-clad ladies with large weapons beating the shite out of a range of Enforcers, Scavvies, Van Saars and whatever else Ducki acquires. Some of the aforementioned weapons are pink and one is getting a pink sparkly heart-shaped nail art sticker when I can be bothered. My study in the new house will be pink until that (preexisting) paint gets tatty enough to replace - it'll have my usual books, desk and various accessories in rather than Disney Princess pictures, but it does nonetheless have pink walls and curtains. Not what I'd choose, but not bad enough to repaint on entry. I own various pink items of clothing, some of which are even appropriate to teach class in. I don't feel that wearing a pink t-shirt or nail varnish weakens my brain** or makes me less good at my job. I prefer purple, red and quite a lot of black, but it's nice to have a change sometimes.
What does stink like dog poo before it goes white is the idea that everything for girls - and to an extent grown women - MUST be pink. And that girls can't like anything that isn't girly, and that women have to have a pink version of everything (none of my household tools are pink, not because I didn't think the pink sparkly ones looked nice but because I'd already heard that they were considerably flimsier than plain ones of a similar price) in order to be able to use it - and that men and boys CANNOT touch any of this stuff or their willies (which in the case of white guys are ironically pink) might fall off.
It also stinks that people make sweeping assumptions about what a boy or a girl might want, right from the moment the child sticks its head out from you-know-where*** with no knowledge of that child's preferences. It's a baby. It wants lots of things to look at and make noises with and chew, Genuine preferences come later, and involve CHOICE at some stage. Don't say that outside influences don't have an impact. I hate Emu to this day because there was a replica at the preschool I went to and one of the teachers used to attack kids with it if we were naughty, and it totally stank. I have a residual impression of being chronically thick because that was what my classmates called me, even though any low marks I got were down to being too busy crying or beating them up to do the work. So if girls are directed towards the frilly pink stuff and boys away from it, then yes that is going to stay with them, regardless of what goes on at home. Even if the family avoid stereotyping at home, the time kids spend out of the house will influence them.
And now more than when I was young - as in when it is my friends having babies rather than my friends' mothers, the linked article having been posted on facebook by a colleague who has just given birth to a baby girl - everything seems more firmly divided into pink and blue, even nappies. (I can incidentally see the point in different boy and girl nappies, because lets face it the pee comes out of different places. But why do girls' ones need princesses on? I would love to let a child of mine shit on Disney, but sadly the illustrations seem to be on the wrong side.
Let's face it - tiny babies don't care what colour they wear, just how the fabric feels against their skin and in their mouth. Ducks, trains, cars, dinosaurs and other imagery popular on kidwear isn't gendered - or shouldn't be. Pink and blue are not the only parts of the colour spectrum. I came to my liking for pink (and purple, red, black, green, etc and ducks, trains, flowers, spiders, murder stories, Canaries and all things goffik) after a childhood which, while far from perfect, at least contained a full colour spectrum.
Luckily Ducki tends to agree with me on this point (although not every gender or childrearing issue) - luckily for him or I might have to do something regretful with a certain pink sparkly item that has been in where babies come out.****
*The Amazon Blood Bowl team, however, will be in yellow and green and have the provisional name of the Birds of Paradise. I may even come up with the Lustrian pronounciation of Delia Smith if necessary.
**Except insofar as inhaling any nail varnish is a bad idea - that's why I don't breathe it in directly... :P
***Because directly mentioning ladyparts would clearly be the last straw in a gender rant post - whoops...
**** And again ;)
Sorry, that *wasn't* your last dose of Gobby Vegan Nella today after all. This is because i remembered last night's intention to post on my frustration at the treatment of hunt sabs in TV shows.
So i've been watching this show called The Chase. It isn't about hunting, despite the dubious name. The main theme is a family of vets who seem to spend their time getting off with each other's husbands and wives. I watch it for a bit of harmless escapism with the odd cute moment. However, last week's episode (which i just watched last night on dvd due to having been off being Hard-working Vegan Nella at the Big Green Gathering) really pissed me off, especially as part of a long string of BBC dramas where sabs and animal rights people have been portrayed badly.
The general storyline involved one of the older vet nurses, Margaret trying her hand at some internet dating, and meeting a guy called Alan who had listed on his profile that he was an animal lover. Then, when they are in the pub with two of the other nurses, he reveals that he is against hunting (the other three people in the conversation were all on that weird boundary you get a lot in the countryside, of not supporting it but also having friends and customers who hunt and not being able to really condemn it either) and goes 'monitoring'. Now, for anyone who doesn't know, monitoring is at this stage in England's history a case of going out and filming the hunt to make sure they stay within the law. (They aren't allowed to send the hounds after a fox and are instead supposed to be following a dragged scent. Yeah and your mum's a virgin, as we said at school. They go on just the same as they did before the ban, unless constantly watched.) Now, Alan persuaded Margaret to go 'monitoring' with him, and it turned out to be sabbing after all. So far, so good. Nothing wrong with a bit of sabbing. Quite a lot right with it, in fact.
The sequence started out fairly sensibly, with Alan showing Margaret how to spray citronella where the hounds are likely to go. This is a common sabbing tactic, to stop them smelling fox. You can use little garden spray bottles, or huge tanks of the stuff squirted from the back of a van. So, yeah, fairly accurate. THEN the hunt turn up, and Alan goes mad waving a claxon around and screaming. In the ensuing chaos, a hound is kicked by a horse and collapses on the ground. Alan tells Margaret to leave it, and runs off. Margaret unmasks herself, and goes to help the dog. The MFH threatens to have her arrested if she doesn't leave, but she insists on helping the dog and taking it to the vet practice where she works. Then, the kennel huntsman turns up to pick up his hound and asks her out.
So the moral of this story turns out to be that sabs don't care about animals, manipulate innocent nurses into breaking the law, and are the last people you'd want your mum going on a date with. Er, thanks BBC.
So i've been watching this show called The Chase. It isn't about hunting, despite the dubious name. The main theme is a family of vets who seem to spend their time getting off with each other's husbands and wives. I watch it for a bit of harmless escapism with the odd cute moment. However, last week's episode (which i just watched last night on dvd due to having been off being Hard-working Vegan Nella at the Big Green Gathering) really pissed me off, especially as part of a long string of BBC dramas where sabs and animal rights people have been portrayed badly.
The general storyline involved one of the older vet nurses, Margaret trying her hand at some internet dating, and meeting a guy called Alan who had listed on his profile that he was an animal lover. Then, when they are in the pub with two of the other nurses, he reveals that he is against hunting (the other three people in the conversation were all on that weird boundary you get a lot in the countryside, of not supporting it but also having friends and customers who hunt and not being able to really condemn it either) and goes 'monitoring'. Now, for anyone who doesn't know, monitoring is at this stage in England's history a case of going out and filming the hunt to make sure they stay within the law. (They aren't allowed to send the hounds after a fox and are instead supposed to be following a dragged scent. Yeah and your mum's a virgin, as we said at school. They go on just the same as they did before the ban, unless constantly watched.) Now, Alan persuaded Margaret to go 'monitoring' with him, and it turned out to be sabbing after all. So far, so good. Nothing wrong with a bit of sabbing. Quite a lot right with it, in fact.
The sequence started out fairly sensibly, with Alan showing Margaret how to spray citronella where the hounds are likely to go. This is a common sabbing tactic, to stop them smelling fox. You can use little garden spray bottles, or huge tanks of the stuff squirted from the back of a van. So, yeah, fairly accurate. THEN the hunt turn up, and Alan goes mad waving a claxon around and screaming. In the ensuing chaos, a hound is kicked by a horse and collapses on the ground. Alan tells Margaret to leave it, and runs off. Margaret unmasks herself, and goes to help the dog. The MFH threatens to have her arrested if she doesn't leave, but she insists on helping the dog and taking it to the vet practice where she works. Then, the kennel huntsman turns up to pick up his hound and asks her out.
So the moral of this story turns out to be that sabs don't care about animals, manipulate innocent nurses into breaking the law, and are the last people you'd want your mum going on a date with. Er, thanks BBC.
Ok, so i'm out of the 'no blogging while supposed to be working' phase and into a 'maybe this will give me some writing practice and wake my brain up' phase. Don't know how long it will last...
Anyway, 'alternative'. What does it mean? (feel free to contribute here) I don't know what my 'alternative' credentials are, or if i have any. I certainly don't look alternative most of the time. But i'm not convinced i fit the evil, capitalist, tory, tankist, stalinist pig-dog mould that seems to be, if you like, the alternative to alternative.
( Cut because this got angrier than intendedCollapse )
Anyway, 'alternative'. What does it mean? (feel free to contribute here) I don't know what my 'alternative' credentials are, or if i have any. I certainly don't look alternative most of the time. But i'm not convinced i fit the evil, capitalist, tory, tankist, stalinist pig-dog mould that seems to be, if you like, the alternative to alternative.
( Cut because this got angrier than intendedCollapse )
Two stories of vital scientific studies reached my eyes in the last few minutes. Because we clearly cannot live without knowing the conclusions of this crucial research, here is a quick run-down.
Courtesy of Echidne: Tinfoil hats don't really protect you from government surveillance. (Abstract: Among a fringe community of paranoids, aluminum helmets serve as the protective measure of choice against invasive radio signals. We investigate the efficacy of three aluminum helmet designs on a sample group of four individuals. Using a $250,000 network analyser, we find that although on average all helmets attenuate invasive radio frequencies in either directions (either emanating from an outside source, or emanating from the cranium of the subject), certain frequencies are in fact greatly amplified. These amplified frequencies coincide with radio bands reserved for government use according to the Federal Communication Commission (FCC). Statistical evidence suggests the use of helmets may in fact enhance the government's invasive abilities. We speculate that the government may in fact have started the helmet craze for this reason.)
DK, meanwhile, shares the wonderful news that "One of the greatest female sartorial dilemmas - 'does my bum look big in this?' - is to be answered by a team of researchers." I'm so glad to hear it. Apparently "Female volunteers wearing hundreds of different types of clothing will have their rears photographed for the study." Hmm, i would doubt very much whether this is really about women's physiology - maybe we should look at male reactions some time? Or, indeed, why exactly we live in a culture where it matters how big women's bums look in the first place? (More commentary from Twisty, where i'd suggest anyone in search of this sort of story look first. She does an annual holiday reading of the SCUM manifesto.)
This week, for anyone able to be blissfully unaware, has been anti-bullying week. I don't know why anyone would want such a thing. Being bullied is the best way for a fat, ugly, stupid kid to learn what lies in store for an adult with similar qualities. Thanks to the nice normal people who highlighted and made me pay for my faults all the way through childhood, i am now perfectly prepared for an adult life where people either dislike and avoid me or believe they are doing me a favour by speaking to me. I have a finely-honed attitude of not giving two shits whether people like me or not, and if it slips then it rarely does so in public. I'm very good at apologising for everything i will inevitably do wrong, up to and including my very existence. It also makes me appreciate the exceptions a lot more. Who could want more?
On the other hand, it would be nice if future generations didn't have to adopt this attitude.
On the other hand, it would be nice if future generations didn't have to adopt this attitude.
This may seem like a weird thing to get het up about, but if you know me you'll be used to that. The latest thing in advertising is for people to rent out parts of their body for ad space. I can't express how fucking sick i think this is. As if consumer culture didn't invade every aspect of our lives already, now we face the prospect of seeing it on the faces of those around us. In ten years time i will be teaching situationism to a class of students with adverts on their faces, trying to explain concepts of resistance to people who are already assimilated. Or maybe there will be a division based on background and financial status - the better-off students with corporate logos on their clothes and those with less money with logos tattooed on their foreheads. Either way, it doesn't exactly sound like hope for the future. And note that the first person to 'wear' the new advert (for the advertising company) is a waitress at Hooters, someone who has already been commodified to the hilt - surely that says SOMETHING? *grr*
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