The Other S Word

Well, here we are again.

Another month, another inch closer to the time of year when the sun actually shines and you don't have to melt your hands over a heater after a 5 minute walk to the corner store. Thank the proverbial gods, because my bike is lonely and my feet are tired of being wet and cold. I know I live in Canada and everyone is sick of hearing everyone else whine about how cold it is- but honestly, there are days when this shit is just plain unliveable. I am not a fan.

But that's not why I'm writing today. I want to talk about something that pervades society at large, from queer and lesbian settings to your atypical straight dorm room bro's to progressive communities: Slut shaming.

Wikipedia says: "Slut shaming (also hyphenated, as slut-shaming) is defined as the act of making someone, usually a woman, feel guilty or inferior, for engaging in certain sexual behaviors that violate traditional gender expectations. These include, depending on culture, having a large number of sex partners, having sexual relations outside marriage, having casual sexual relations, or acting or dressing in a way that is deemed excessively sexual. This is often done by name calling (often using the word "slut" itself) as well as covert shaming."

First I would like to state that there are many great ways to insult a person who is being rude/manipulative/unfriendly/backstabbing or any number of other things which would make you want to call that person out. If male-identified, some of the most common ones are: asshole, jerk, douchebag, prick etc. Now, think about what you would call someone who is displaying the same behaviours but happens to be female-indentified. Chances are what comes to mind are: bitch, slut, cunt or some version of all three.

'Slut' seems to be an acceptable insult even when the person being insulted has not engaged in promiscuous sexual activities. I'm not saying 'bitch' or 'cunt' (although it is one of my favourite words- see "Reclaiming Cunt- The Vagina Diaries") are any better or worse but for the purpose of this blog post we will save them for another day. Slut is considered to be one of the worst things you can call a female bodied person. It is meant in its essence to shame that person. There is no other purpose for this term, whereas 'bitch' can mean aggressive, mean, misleading etc. The purpose of the word 'slut' is to tell that person that they are to be judged solely on their sexual endeavours, and if you were raised as a female then you were likely taught that a sexual eagerness or appetite is shameful. Its the classic prude/whore or mother mary/ mary magdalene dynamic.

We are told to be sexual objects while never admitting or succumbing to our sexual desires. The media tells us we are supposed to be sexy to inspire both lust and jealousy from our peers while paradoxically being the humble virgins. Boys are taught that if a girl sleeps with you then she is not respectable, but if a girl makes you wait she is a tease.

So we are all taught to have a universal hatred of the woman who freely enjoys her own sexuality, whether this means experimenting with a primary partner or having multiple partners without the customary shame we are supposed to feel. The 'slut' is less hated when she feels remorse for her actions and her sexuality. Those of us are not repentant and feel no remorse for freely pursuing our desires are put into the 'slut' box and considered less than.

Now, noone says this right out. It manifests itself in a myriade of ways every single day, in different contexts. From referencing women who choose to wear revealing clothing to buying into the porn industry, to my straight male friends talking about how so and so is such a slut but she's so hot (at the same time), to my own acceptance and claim of the term. I've called myself a slut and challenged anyone to tell me it's a bad thing.

I have spent my whole life living with the shame of being female and the things I was taught. At some point, I decided that I was not going to shame myself for following my desires. I am a responsible, safe, adult woman who enjoys sex. I no longer feel shame over this. I am also without a primary partner so I suppose you could call me promiscuous, but as long as my actions are not harming myself or anyone else I choose to go with my gut feeling. If I feel safe, respected and I am attracted to the other person than I am not going to deny myself what could be a great experience with another human.

Some friends tell me this may be why I am still single- because I sometimes sleep with someone on the first date. Or because I sometimes have multiple lovers. According to most "dating experts" (as if there is such a thing), this is a huge no no. I disagree- I believe the reason I am still single is that I have not found someone I connect with strongly enough to make a commitment to. Regardless of whether I sleep with women, men or anyone in between, I haven't yet found someone I could see myself sharing my life with. I have though met many people whom I have shared intense nights/weekends/weeks/months with, to the satisfaction of both of us. Noone was harmed, precautions were taken, and in the end everyone walked away with a smile.

You want to call me a slut right now, don't you? Well, go ahead. But know that when you do so, you are harming yourself by pressuring me to deny my sexual nature. In my opinion, the more we all just accept our own sexuality and open the hell up from these retro 1950s religious ideals, the better the world will become. Of course, this is a very simplified blog post and the entire slut shaming contruct would take me hours to type- but I hope I've made my point.

Now, can we all just act like grown ups and stop calling women who love sex sluts?

Just Another Feminist Rant

Happy New Year folks! I hope your holidays weren't too painfully filled with family and your NYE was safe.

If you think you could indulge me here, and as you're reading this right now I'd assume the answer is yes, because I'm about to go on a rant.

This morning I was going through a music blog that a friend recommended to me for some new bands and artists to listen to. I love discovering new music but I tend to get stuck inside my same old playlist so I try my best to actively seek out new sounds I enjoy. As far as music goes, I seem to have gotten pigeon holed in a certain sound. Years ago I found what I liked and I've kind of stuck to similar things since. I venture outside of it, but I always go back to the same aesthetic. So for me finding new styles of music that I enjoy equally is a big deal and finding people who can recommend new music is key.

So I'm reading and listening to this blog. I like a fair bit of it, I'm grooving, happy that I'm getting some exposure to artists I would've never otherwise heard. It's a great start to my day and I'm looking forward to plugging some of this into my ears when I head out in the busy slushy streets of Montreal later today.

And then I get up to get coffee and it hits me. Through three pages of this blog, there is not a single female identified artist. One band has a female singer, but there isn't a solo female artist or band. And my insides instantly go GGGRRRRRR.

I understand that this blog is written by a cisman. I understand that from his perspective this is just the music he enjoys and feels like sharing. It's not him neccessarily that makes me so irate. Its the entire entertainment industry. Its the lack of movies that pass the Bechdel Test (If you don't know what this is see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bechdel_test). It's the fact that so often music written and performed by women is put into the Lilith Fair category and dismissed as something best left for the folkies. Or it's packaged and sold to the masses as airy, light, sexy dance club hits. Anyone who thinks music is no longer a boy's club need look no further than a magazine stand, radio, music blog or their local venues.

How many female identified fronted bands, solo artists or MC's do you see headlining shows? Look at the posters on the street. Check the festival lineups.

Most of all, DO NOT try to tell me that there are just less women making music. That is simply not the truth. There are women everywhere making incredible music and pushing boundaries. When a woman walks into the room and sits behind a drum kit, watch the faces of the people in the crowd. You will see more sceptisism and looks of "I wonder if this chick can actually play" then you would if a man sat behind the same kit.

I am aching for the day when women aren't cornered into only playing at womyn's festivals. So here's something you can do: go to local shows where women are showcasing. Buy the albums. If you're a musician and you know women trying to push their way into the scene, book them. Don't treat them as less than, don't instantly roll your eyes at 'chick rock' unless you want us to treat your 'cock rock' in the same manner.

If you disagree with me- show me that I'm wrong. Give me 5 local bands or artists that you love that are getting bookings, reviews and headlining shows with their male counterparts. Because I would love to go to a show and not only see a bunch of men rocking out (regardless of how awesome they are). If I go to a show where 3 bands are playing and not a female on stage in sight, I consider that a pity.

And if you're a reviewer, make sure there is AT LEAST one review of female musicians somewhere in your list of 'Best of 2012', because women are doing incredible things in the world of music. And that deserves recognition too.

-End Rant-

Here's an awesome track from Slutever, because they kick some ass.

Great Expectations

It's been awhile. How was Christmas for ya'll? Mine was just dandy, with my mother and my best friend occupying my home, complete with turkey dinner and present opening on Christmas day. I went to midnight mass with some friends on the 24th at the Basicalla downtown and it was beautiful. I missed my grandmother a whole bunch but got some pictures of her that my mother brought with her from Alberta. I don't think I've ever had such a picture perfect holiday. It was the first in a long time with my mother, and it was good. That said, I'm thrilled to have my quiet home to myself again.

Life goes back to normal on Monday. But for now I'm enjoying the 45+ cm is snow that dumped in Montreal yesterday and relaxing in coffee shops.

New Years Eve is coming up and I don't think there is a holiday I enjoy less (except maybe V-day). It's mostly due to the heedy expectations the evening brings. Just think about how many romantic comedies arrive at their happy ending at a New Years Eve gala. Off the top of my head: When Harry Met Sally and... er, well you get my drift. The pressure of being at the right place in the right attire at the stroke of midnight holds so much hype. I've had some good times on Nye for sure but never have I experienced the ultimate magic that the movies and television portray. But then again isn't that the way it always is? We seem to be fed these grandiose expectations of moments by the media that never materialise in real life and so we find ourselves perpetually disappointed. This applies to all holidays, in particular Christmas, New Years Eve and of course the dreaded Valentines Day.

I'll admit I'm a sucker for it all. I have a soft spot for romantic idealism, things like the big gesture and the kiss at the perfect moment. Maybe I've watched too many rom-coms (which, if you know me at all, is very likely. I have an aversion to horror and thrillers, ok. Don't judge me.) but I get all worked up about these days. Still, the older I get the less I believe in happy endings, even if I'd like to. Reality has a way of creeping in and clubbing that idealism like a tiny baby seal (too soon?). I no longer believe that the person who doesn't call me is just too busy but really does like me. I no longer fantasize about running into my ex when I look so amazing that they suddenly realize they made a huge mistake and beg for another chance. Rejection might be tough to swallow but tougher still is constant disappointment. I'd rather take the hit to my ego and move on than pretend I'm going to get a movie worthy ending.

The truth is this: NYE is just another night. Don't spend more money than you can afford on a new dress or shirt, don't sweat it if you don't have a date to the party, and most of all leave when you're tired. Don't stay at the party until four AM waiting for the miracle to happen. You might only get a bad headache and a day in bed for your trouble. Dance when you want to, go where you want to (even if it's not the 'coolest' place to be) and enjoy your friends. I know that's what I'm gonna do, anyway. This year I'm going to leave the expectations to my dream world and take the night for exactly what it is; another night. Oh, and party my face off sober style because that's how I roll.

Dance floor, here I come. Party safe everyone.

Here's something fun to listen to/ watch while you wait for the new year:

Thin Lines- A Question of Health

Happy Friday afternoon everyone.

Thanks to American's celebrating the colonization of native land this week, I'm off work today. I guess that's the bonus of working for a company who's clientele is mainly American. We have to work on Canadian holidays, but we get time off when everyone else is finishing out their 9-5 week. 

I'm not going to go on a rant about how sick celebrating "Thanksgiving" is, I'll save that for another time.

Today I want to talk about health. 

See, the thing is, I think I have a very blurry idea of what being "healthy" means. I know the old 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away' adage, but what does that really mean nowadays when even apples contain mass amounts of chemicals? Yes, buy organic. Yes, buy local. I know these things, and even on my wire thin budget I do try. My biggest problem is that I don't put effort into cooking, ever.

I live alone and frankly cooking for one is a drag. When I get home from work I'm tired. I don't want to spend an hour chopping and stirring and waiting. Its the waiting that drives me crazy. So I go for quick. Or sometimes I don't eat anything at all at night. Then theres the fact that I smoke like crazy and I drink way too much coffee. I probably don't get enough water or vitamins or iron. I get sick alot, from stomach aches to flu's to other random ailments that make no sense. I lose my voice. I walk alot and in the summer I bike everywhere, but in the winter its harder to get exercise. I recently joined an indoor soccer team and we had our first game on Wednesday. I nearly fainted within the first five minutes.

I remember a time when I had boundless energy and was fit. Hell, two summers ago I was a roofer for five months. I was ripped! My muscles were crazy, and I ate more than I think I've ever eaten in my life. Now I work a desk job in an office. My old eating habits have returned, times a hundred.

And heres the honest to god truth: I've struggled with eating issues since I was thirteen. Its come and gone and come back in many different forms over the years. Now I'm all grown up. I eat one meal a day, sometimes only a small one and usually at work because people would notice if I didn't. The people at work actually joke about how much I eat and how its crazy that I'm so small considering what I consume. What they don't know is that I don't eat when I'm not there. What they don't know is that I constantly obsess about what I've consumed, how much I'm consuming, how small I am. I feed on it when people tell me how thin I'm looking, even if its with a tone of concern. In my twisted brain it means I'm doing something right.

I know this is the reason I get sick so often. I know that I am not healthy. I know this and so much more and yet it does nothing to change the behaviour and the thinking.

So here's my question for you guys: What do healthy habits look like to you? What do you do to take good care of your body? What do your eating habits look like?

I'm looking to get some perspective.

Lists of vitamins and supplements that help you are welcomed.

Easy recipes are welcomed.

If you've battled this, suggestions of things you've done to overcome it are doubly welcomed.

This is  Sonya Renee performing her poem "The Body Is Not An Apology".

The End Could Possibly, Maybe, Be Near

Hey guys.

So, there's alot to talk about tonight. I've missed a whole bunch of weeks, and a whole genetically modified super size bushel of things have happened in that time.

Let's start with right this minute before going into the past.

There's a super storm hurricane rocking the east coast of the U.S. Have you heard about this thing?! There calling it Frankenstorm because its basically a hurricane from the tropics mixed with a crazy storm from the north all whipped together with a full moon (which causes higher than usual tides on its own). It has shut down and evacuated huge parts of the eastern seaboard, including New York. The friggin' New York Stock Exchange is shutting down, and you know what it means when the big guys decide not to make money off of everyone else's backs for a day dont'cha? It means they're too scared to make money. And for those greedy fuckers, thats basically the equivalent of a cold day in hell. Which means we're all in for some crazy shit.

Montreal isn't expected to get the worst of it, only some 90km winds and massive rain. Yes. I said only 90km winds. Because you know what they're calling for in some parts of Southern Ontario near the lakes? 115km winds. Holy crap. Thats enough to blow down trees, lift over cars, and throw your daschund to the moon. ( Okay, maybe those last two were exaggerations but you get my drift. Get it- drift! ha.)

Now, I'm not making light of a very serious situation. Quite the opposite. I'm just coming to terms with how big they're saying this storm is. You know some folks at my office today hadn't even heard about it?! They had no idea what was happening. When I mentioned it they freaked out a little. I mean come on people! Listen to the radio or a news blog or sooooomething.

Because if you've been paying attention lately you'll also have noticed that big earthquakes are happening nearly everyday, everywhere in the world. Even coastal BC had a 7.7 earthquake on Saturday, the largest on record since 1949. Thats crazy. They're still feeling aftershocks from it. My friend in Costa Rica said they had a big one last week, Quebec had one earlier this month.

Now, I'm not one for conspiracy theories and superstition. Not at all. I tend to be very skeptical of everything, not just religion and fairy tales. But honestly, it kinda feels like 2012 might be happening. Freak storms, massive earthquakes and financial bankruptcy across the globe are happening so close together that it honestly feels like mother nature is laughing at us. And she's chuckling and smirking in that way you do when you're arm wrestling someone, only giving it half your strength and they're already sweating and breathing heavily. You know you're going to win, and you figure why not just let them struggle for a little while.

It kinda feels like mother nature is taunting us, knowing that at any moment she could just wipe us out like a kid with a bleach bottle in front of an ant hill. And all the while, we kind of know we deserve it.

And you know, we do deserve it. I'm just wondering if I should spend all my money on a trip somewhere before it all ends.

Heres a poem by my dear friend Jillian Christmas who currently resides in Vancouver. The last line slays me, and all this talk of natural disaster made me think of it.

Good news/ Bad news

Well holy crap.

Theres less than a week left until I fly off to Saskatoon for the Canadian Festival Of Spoken Word with the rest of the Montreal Slam Team. We've been prepping like crazy, and I think we're solid. We're ready. Its time for an intensive week of poetry, competition, old (and new) friends, and a little vacation. I'm excited to see all the poetry family from across the country come together. I think this year will be a great one. I like that Saskatoon is small, and we can walk everywhere we need to go (unlike last year in Toronto- which I've nicknamed the festival of taxi's). I'm really looking forward to this. Not to mention a week at home in Victoria with my people! Oh man. I need to lay on my waffle's (itsalongstoryi'lltellyouanothertime) couch and eat soup while hashing out all the gory details of the last year and a half. I can't wait to see them.

And I need a week of poetry. I need to be rejuvenated. I need to be on fire with passion and love for my people and my art.

I know, I'm emo. Whatever.

Because lately I feel like my life is at a stale mate. Its not terrible, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining (too much) about my lot right now. It's alright. But still, creatively at least, I feel stagnant. Like my heart needs to be shocked alive again. It feels frozen, or at least lazy.
Yeah, maybe that's it, I have a lazy heart right now.

I'm not much liking it. So I'm hoping like hell a week of poetry will cure what ails me. Or at least remind me of why I do the things I do. Lately I've been thinking it isn't enough, to live like this for those moments when I get to do what I love. To quote Ani DiFranco; "It doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define". She's talking about art, so I think it applies here.

To make matters worse; I lost my writing job today. Not because my work wasn't good, but because of cutbacks. Financial matters. They can't justify having two full time writers on staff, and I'm the newest edition so I'm the one to go. They've been letting people go left and right for a couple of weeks. Six people lost their jobs on Friday alone. Scary shit, man. And today was my turn. The company is keeping me on staff, but in a different capacity. I get to be a receptionist - jump for joy! Or not. 

I'm trying to be positive. At least I still have a job, a paycheck coming in and there are good people there that I sincerely like. I like that company so for now I'll do what I have to. But seriously- I thought things were really turning in my direction when I landed that position. I thought all the time working shitty jobs and praying like hell for something, anything where I could write for a living had finally paid off.

(my new panhandling face)

Guess I still have some more dues to pay. Unless you guys have some suggestions?! Anything? Keep in mind I live in a city where I'm not completely fluent in the local language. Options are limited.

This is why you should always have a back up plan. I really need to make one of those.

So whats your back up plan if things in your life ever go seriously awry? It can be anything, carreer-wise, relationship-wise, financially- anything. I need some inspiration. For a creative person, I can't seem to get creative with my own life. And words just aren't cutting it anymore, ya know? I need action.

Sorry, I don't have any poetry today. Here's a song I didn't write by an artist I really like.

Red pill/ Blue pill

Fall. What a season.

Autumn makes me nostalgic. It makes me miss faces I haven't seen in years and old familiar places. It makes me nest like an animal going into hibernation. Fall is a season to get your affairs in order before winter sets in and its time to buckle down through the parkas and the almost frostbitten toes.

I am getting my affairs in order, folks. 

Here's a little story;

When I was 16 I was diagnosed with acute Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This basically runs the gamut as far as "symptoms" are concerned; depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, eating disorder, flashbacks and dissasociation. I had them all. I was in need of serious help and so I was placed in a mental health facility for youth for a long time. I don't remember exactly, but it was almost 10 months I believe. Before that, I had spent a month in an adult ward at a different hospital waiting to be transferred. So in total it was about a year. This all happened in the fall.

I was on medication already for depression and the doctors spent that year figuring out the perfect cocktail to at least keep me stable. I hated it. I hated the institution and the doctors telling me that I needed to talk. I didn't want to talk, not to them at least. I had never talked to anyone about anything except for my best friend K. I was utterly beligerent and defiant as a teenager who certainly didn't trust anyone. I had good reason not to trust anyone.

When I left there, I stayed on my meds and did good for a little while. Then I fell harder into drugs and drinking. That had always been my fix, my cure. As far as I was concerned, the doctors and shrinks and social workers and counsellors could go to hell. I was going to do things my way, period.

Somehow, I think I stayed on my meds though. I kept taking them.

And then I sobered up. I got clean and two years after I decided that I had more tools to deal with life and came off all the medication.

Its been four years since then. I have mostly fought the overwhelming highs and lows to keep my life somewhat manageable. I have convinced myself that I am fine, that whatever happens I can deal with it. I have been adament, even through bitter lows and really bad decisions while I am on "ups", about never going back on medication. It's one of the accomplishments I am most proud of, to be free of these little pills that the doctors told me I might always need to take.

And then my bubble burst last week. I had a moment of clarity and I was able to be honest with myself for the first time in a long time. I am not ok and my emotions are far from manageable. They haven't been in a long time. I have extreme mood swings. I can have a great day, be in a great mood (which is always more "ecstatic" and "excitable" than just a good mood) and then crash so hard that I want to go back to doing drugs and drinking just to escape this cycle. I do impulsive things. Sometimes dangerous, impulsive things. My compulsions when I am happy have led me to things which I don't recognize. I don't recognize my own behaviour, because they are things I wouldn't and don't want to do. But yet I do them, over and over and over.

So I went to a doctor and told her my history, told her what is happening now. I feel weak, scared, and ashamed. I know that these things are not my fault. I know that I need to surrender and admit my powerlessness over my mental health issues, at least as far as "managing" it on my own. I can't do this alone anymore. So I went back on medication and I'm feeling only the side effects. It takes a few weeks for these things to balance out. I hope it will. I'm so tired of this cycle, of this tornado of emotions I am constantly in. I want to have a relationship, I want to maintain consistent friendships, I want to not cry at work or feel so excited that my skin is crawling with anxious energy. I want to be able to to rest normally, instead of swinging back and forth between insomnia and sleeping 14 hrs a night.

I know its going to take more than medication. I know they're not magic pills. I've been refered to a psychiatrist for re-evaluation, since the last one was over 10 years ago. I'm looking into therapy and counselling. I feel like I am going down another mental health services rabbit hole.

Except this time I'm willing to talk. And willingness just might be the key.