Hi there, new readers.
Since my humble lil’ blog stats have quadrupled in the last couple of days, thanks mostly to Twisty, I suppose I should introduce myself again. So, Hi! I’m Sarah.
If you actually care, there are lots of posts that explain where I’m coming from. If you don’t, you could refer to the title here, which a recent commenter called me.
“Naive,” because, well, as you probably heard, there’s a picture of my ass in a pair of boyshorts below. Hustler brand boyshorts. Never mind that it’s not a thong and you pretty much see no skin, I’m “naive” for posting it.
Well, here’s the thing. First off, I’m probably older than you think. Been around the block a few times. Been a freelance writer for quite a few years (written for BUST and SuicideGirls.com, two places you probably hate if you’re coming from Twisty’s, but I don’t particularly care), and I currently teach classes at a university. Yeah, I’m one of those overeducated types who think it’s “empowerfulizing” to show my ass to a group of strangers, right?
Wrong.
I didn’t put that picture up to empower myself. If I’m seeking validation on my ass, all I have to do is walk down the damn street–I’ll get catcalled plenty, and it’ll remind me that women get sexualized whether we like it or not.
I do, lately, take a certain pleasure in wearing items of clothing that my controlling ex-fiance might have called “slutty” if he hadn’t known I’d punch him in the mouth for using that term around me. While it’s not necessarily “empowering,” it sure is nice to know that no one except for some radical feminist bloggers whom I usually don’t read will be shaming me for my choice in clothing.
(I also find it funny that one commenter said “when guys approve, it’s a great guage[sic] of whether or not something is feminist at all.” By that token, me wearing a low-cut shirt and short shorts is indeed feminist, since my ex would heartily have disapproved. But what happens when teh mens agree with the radical feminists? Because you know, I’m pretty sure James Dobson would agree that strippers and sex workers are terrible people…so doesn’t that mean you’re pleasing the patriarchy too?
Twisty’s right that you can’t avoid the patriarchy. So I choose to not give it even more control over my life by trying to do everything the opposite of what men want.
I certainly don’t give it any more power over my life by letting disputes over what it wants lead me into tearing down other women for how they look or how they choose to perform their sexuality (more on how sexuality is inherently performative later, with added intellectual thoughts on blowjobs! I promise!). And I definitely don’t let it limit my pleasures.
To quote Lydia Lunch, “I do exactly what I wanna do.”
What I wanted to do with that picture, below, was to tell a group of people being judgmental exactly what I thought of their judgments. I’m not “naive” and I didn’t think it was going to make a bunch of people go “Oh! Now I see! Porn is great!” or anything like that. So, annoying? Yeah, that was kind of the point.
The point was also to illustrate that you never know what people are hiding under their clothes. I’m not a sex worker, never have been. I have been assorted other things, including bicycle mechanic and teacher at a nonprofit literacy program. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that when I came to feminism, it led me to stop judging other women, not to find a new way to do it.
In “Cunt,” Inga Muscio talks about her project to make her stop hating on other women: reading autobiographies, or at least biographies. I’ve done a good bit of that, too. It can be fascinating. I read Poppy Z. Brite’s biography of Courtney Love, and Traci Lords’ autobiography, plus Antonia Fraser’s excellent volumes on Marie Antoinette and the queens of Henry VIII, just to name a few faves.
It opens you up to understanding other women as women. To stopping before you pass judgment.
So, naive about showing my ass on my blog? I’ll let you in on a little secret: I did think twice about putting it up there. This blog is under my real name, and is hosted on the same site with my professional resume and portfolio (which are in desperate need of updates…). But you know, I decided I wasn’t going to let people’s decisions of what is ‘appropriate’ and ‘obscene’ or ‘derive[s] a lot of your identity from your conformance to patriarchal expectations.’
That last commenter continued, ‘And if you talk about it in public, you are necessarily inviting people to “judge” you.’
No, actually I’m not. I was inviting you to kiss my ass. But you can judge me all you want. I’ll let through any comments you want to throw at me on this post right here. Call me a slut, a whore, a patriarchy-pleaser, a naive young dimwit. Hell, bring out some racialized and ableist language if you want. It’s not going to hurt me any. Do you think it’s the first time I’ve heard it? And it won’t say anything about me. It’ll just say something about you, and where you derive your validation from: tearing other women down.
But I sure made y’all look, didn’t I?
