This Is My Fight

After the UCSB shootings, the Twitter blew up with two hashtags - #YesAllWomen and #NotAllMen. I am not here to talk about the man who did these shootings, in my opinion he is so clearly a sick, unhappy individual, completely deluded and not worth mentioning even his name here. What I do want to talk about is the importance of #YesAllWomen and the irony of #NotAllMen.

We live, and have always lived, in a time where the oppression against women is treated like a myth. As if women have fabricated statistics and staged scenarios to support their claims of inequality. Even worse, when women gather to talk about the times they have felt afraid, judged, held back and discriminated there is always backlash, always someone disagreeing with what is being said, demeaning it and misconstruing it as man-bashing. Women who are brave enough to speak out about their experiences are often mistreated for doing so. Eventually, it all comes down to name calling and the word feminist is bandied about with a sneer as if it's something dirty. 

How do I know? Because when you type in 'feminists are' into any search engine on the worldwide web, you get results like this: 

Yet, if you ask people 'do you think women should be treated equal?' most will answer yes. Ask those same people, if they are feminists, they will cringe, recoil, pull back and shake their heads. There is such a hatred towards feminism and I can only surmise it's because a lot of ignorant people don't have a clue what it truly is. Summed up simply, you are a feminist if you support women and their right to be treated equal. That being said, if you are going to call yourself a feminist and speak out about the inequality women suffer, be prepared for ridicule and resentment. Be ready for a fight and to be called a man hater, sexist and have terms like Feminazi thrown at you. 

The point of the 'yes all women' hashtag was not to hate on men, but to shed light on the horrible truths women live with everyday. Instead of listening to what was being said, which basically came down to women sharing their fears and desire for change, there was a surge of defensiveness (from men and women alike). The retaliatory 'not all men' response is simply proof of our society's urge to keep women as the second sex. When there should only be empathy, sympathy, and love shown towards women, why was the spotlight being tipped back to men?

It is something done unintentionally, I think, but it doesn't change the fact that whenever something 'pro-female' is said or done, someone is there asking how men feel about it. Often, the male opinions are then pushed to the forefront and women once again fall to the background. So, maybe it's time to show the fear women live with through the eyes of men. Last night I was talking to my Sidekick about being a modern women and, how despite the fact that I can vote and work and go to school, there is still such an overwhelming abundance of discrimination, like worrying about getting in trouble if I'm not pretty enough for work. How women themselves perpetuate these unrealistic expectations, especially on physical appearances, and how out of place I often feel in my everyday life. On top of that, I have this defeating fear that something bad is going to happen to me. Even though I am capable, intelligent, and independent, I worry about getting myself into situations I can't get myself out of.

The Sidekick, a kind, loving, generous man, kind of balked at what I said, as if my fear was irrational. So then, I rephrased it. "How would you feel if I was walking home at two in the morning by myself?"

Worried was the resounding emotion. And I wouldn't be walking home late at night by myself because he'd come and pick me up. Interesting, right? Where is his fear coming from? Is he worried about women attacking me? Bears? Alien abductions? I don't think so. Further more, I don't drink and I certainly don't dress provocatively, but this still didn't make me less of a target in his mind, or in my own. That being said, if I did drink, or wear a short skirt and low cut blouse, I should still be able to walk home safely, and to not be judged on my appearance if something did happen. No women is ever 'asking for it'. 

So, yeah, men fear for us. They fear their own gender when it comes to their mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and female friends. Does this not serve as validation to what women have been saying for years? And isn't it infuriating that it's almost as if the world needs to hear it from men before they believe it to be true? Well, that's oppression my friends, and it is rooted so deep and so common we don't even realize it's inside us and all around.

I live my life as I please and refuse to let anyone dictate what I can wear and when I can go out. Still, when I am walking late at night and I see a group of men, there is a voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the things I've been taught:

It isn't safe to go out at night. Always have a friend with you. Carry your keys between your fingers so you can do optimal damage. Always check your backseat before getting in the car. Watch your drink. Keep your head up, back straight. Look like you know where you're going. Don't walk down any alleys. Avoid driving in bad neighbourhoods. Lock your door as soon as you get in. If a big van is parked next to you, get in on the opposite side of it. Take the elevator instead of the stairs. Scream 'fire' not 'help'. Date a fireman, he will keep you safe!

These are actually pieces of advice I have received, from being a kid, to a teenager, into my twenties. The general vibe is that I need to be careful. It makes me wonder if this is really living? To be this afraid? To have these precautions the norm?  For the only way for me to feel safe is to have a big, burly man in bed next to me, someone who can protect me.

We understand that 'not all men' are abusive, misogynistic, oppressive jerks. It doesn't even have to be said. It's common sense. We know there are so many amazing men out there, men who want to help, who want women to be equal, but there are far more women who are afraid, alone, and need help. Every single woman I know has been on the receiving end of unwanted attention. Every single woman I know has felt that fist around her heart when she finds herself confronted by an unsafe situation. Every single woman knows what it is like to be second. Like me, every women I know has experienced sexism. 

This is why 'yes all women' is important. There is a struggle here. A fight. The battle of a fear that runs so deep it's considered normal. This is my fight because I lock my doors when I get in my car and I think twice about going for a run at night. This is my fight because I want my sisters and friends to be safe. This is my fight because I am horrified that spurning a man's advances could result is women dying.

It Isn't Love

Every single day of my life I see, read, hear  pieces and blips of people's relationships. With all this social media in our lives, we get a front row ticket to a lot of intimate moments, private thoughts, flirting and romantic philandering  We see the saccharine beginnings of new love and, most horrifying for the soul that has been wronged, the unhinged ends of tainted relationships. Both of these can be fairly embarrassing,  not only for us, the person witnessing it in the comfort of our pyjamas at eight o'clock on a Wednesday as we consume a pint of chocolate chip mint ice cream, but for the parties involved. Maybe not in the moment but, most likely, after the fact.

You hear so much about love and how it is supposed to make you feel. The elation. Being one with the person. How you don't get bored looking them. Electrifying kisses. Never feeling alone. Having a best friend and amazing lover in one. There is a list and it goes on and on and everyone can tell you when it is love. When you are head over heels.

Except...no one wants to tell you when it isn't love. It's like people are afraid to speak up and say, "You shouldn't be feeling that way." I see it in status updates, tweets, Instagram photos, and text messages. We want to offer support and a shoulder to lean on when times get tough. Yet, we are terrified to tell it like it is. No one wants to be the jerk who drops the truth bomb. It's hard to be honest when someone's bleeding heart is making a terrible mess of their Facebook account.

I know they will regret it, probably in a year when they've picked themselves up and put themselves back together again. To be honest, I came very close to being one of these people. As it is, I share a lot of personal details here on this blog, especially through my journey of self discovery and trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be. I know the feeling of looking back and shaking my head over the miserableness I felt. Thankfully, I have yet to have an emotional breakdown on any social media platform, I like to keep those contained to the privacy of my own bedroom or, at the very least, a local park.

But wouldn't it be nice if someone, somewhere, could help us out in the moment. Instead of telling us six months later, "Yeah, you should never feel that way." Well, how about we talk about when it isn't love so we all have a reference point as to what isn't okay.

It isn't love when you are left alone to wonder where your girlfriend or boyfriend is. When they don't tell you where they are going, fail to come home or check in when they know you worry. And it isn't love when they go without a goodbye and come home without a hello, especially for long periods at a time.

Sure, it may seem ridiculous to say it, but we take our loved ones into consideration. When we extend ourselves and truly fall in love, that person becomes our family. Our point of contact. An in case of emergency call person. They are are our 'go to'. And we consider them, what they need and want. If you are not being considered, it isn't love because love is, above most everything else, considerate. You count. And you should feel like you count.

It isn't love to feel like a piece of furniture. Disposable. The same as the aged and battered recliner they have had around forever - familiar and boring. Serving a purpose but never really being seen or used to your fullest potential. Great to have around when company comes over but kind of in the way most days. Love doesn't make you feel used or abused. You should feel important. Wanted. Cared for. Wood polished. Cushions fluffed. And a bunch of other sexual innuendos that pertain to furniture.

Your body. Your face. Your entire being should be accepted as is by the other person and appreciated in the same way. It isn't love to be constantly guessing what the other person thinks of you. Trying to dress nice and not getting a compliment. Waiting to simply be noticed. It isn't love to feel as though you should hide a part of your body or a fragment of your personality. To doubt you wit, intelligence, attractiveness when it comes to your partner is wrong. Holding back isn't love.

This is hard to admit, because I've been there before, but it isn't love to lie next to someone and wonder where they are because it's so clear they aren't sleeping with you. To feel alone though a body is literally two feet away. And to be afraid to wake them, to talk to them, to ask to be held. This isn't love.

Need isn't love. Wanting is. You don't need anyone other than yourself. And you don't need to feel needed. You needed to feel wanted. Like they want to be with you. To hold your hand. To talk. To share everything no matter how silly or inconsequential it seems.

Use your senses. And if you feel as though you aren't being seen, heard, tasted, touched or smelled then it isn't what you want. Love commands all the senses.

It isn't love to be a shadow. To follow. Stalk. Sneak about. It isn't love to read emails. Hack Facebook accounts. Snoop text messages.

To feel unsupported isn't love. You should have dreams. And no matter how ridiculous they may seem to yourself or others, they should be supported by the one you love, the one who is supposed to love you. They should be interested in what you do. They should care.

More than anything, it isn't love to feel sad and alone. To be broken. And doubt the person you are or the one you are becoming. You shouldn't lose sight of who you are or where you are going. The anger, pain, self hatred isn't love.

It isn't love to have your wings clipped. It is love to fly.

It isn't love to wonder where you stand. To feel like a secret. Hidden away. Uncertain whether you should post a picture or write on their wall. Curious to who they are talking to online. Unsure of their relationship status. You should do as you want and relish that the other person will appreciate what you've done and celebrate your relationship. A relationship is like a car. You shouldn't be in the backseat.

It isn't love to hurt constantly. Fear has no place with love. You must know if you let something go it will come back to you or else your nails will start digging in and scars will form. One must give but also take - without both you can become empty. If you are always giving and feel as though there is nothing being given to you, it isn't love.

Sometimes we are the rule, but once in awhile we are the exception  You are exceptional.  Special. One of a kind. Original. Never let anyone tell you otherwise, not even the one you love because...if they do. It isn't love.  

In the end, do not allow yourself to be held down by what isn't love. Open your heart and mind. Allow yourself to be guided by what love is.

Restlessness

Every once in awhile I get this this nagging feel of uneasiness. Restlessness. Not being sure if I want to sit, stand, dance, walk, laugh, cry or sit like a blob and do nothing. Chances are, I'll do the later. Mostly because it's almost eleven at night and the town went to bed four hours ago. It isn't safe to go for a walk. A bear might eat me. Or a cougar. These aren't real fears. Just excuses.

These bouts of restlessness bring with it the ability to make me uncomfortable in my own skin. This happens once in awhile. I look in the mirror and am not too sure I'm pro the girl looking back at me. All I see are cons.

Don't get me wrong, I love myself, I'm relatively happy, life is fine, I'm okay and blah, blah, blah. Do not jump to any 'oh, she must be depressed' conclusions. Not everything is so dramatic. Actually, most things aren't.

Hormones. Can I blame them? It feels like a cop out.

Whenever these moods creep up on me, I end up disenchanted. With life, myself, writing, where I'm going to be in five years. The last year was a roller coaster ride, and not in the good way. The valleys out numbered the peaks about two to one. Some days, three to one. Then again, it's all perspective, isn't it? Through it all, I kept myself together. I reasoned. I kept a smile in place.

For the most part, I remain positive, looking to the bright side, being thankful, and walking around with the knowing smirk of a person who has most of it, if not it all, figured out. For the most part, see, that's the key. We cannot be positive, upbeat, happy, go-lucky, things are coming up roses people every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every...you get the point. It's just not humanly possible. Not without drugs, at least. And, frankly, it's annoying.

People are allowed to have bad days. Hell, people are allowed to have bad weeks. We are allowed to be in bad moods. Just don't let it take control and consume your whole being and smash apart your common sense or rationalization because...well, because that's bad. But it's almost as though, on my path to finding love and light and happiness, I forgot that there are downs. Oops.

In the end, the simple truth is, I feel sloth-like. And there is nothing wrong with a sloth. Actually, on any normal day, I'd embrace being sloth-like. I mean, those guys get to eat and sleep a lot, like up to twenty hours a day. Not to mention they only have three toes and are the slowest moving creatures on earth, so slow and sedentary algae actually grows on their fur. I mean, come on. How cool are these mammals.

Now I feel bad for comparing myself to these beings in a negative fashion.

The anxiousness is worse than thinking I look terrible or being agitated with everything I come in contact with. Sitting, bouncing my knee, and trying to think of a way to bring myself out of this state is most frustrating. Nothing really helps. Except, sleep. (See, sloth-like) And maybe cake. It's touch and go in these scenarios because I might end up feel like an even chubbier bunny after divulging in a cakey goodness with icing and some sort of jammy filling.

That said, I haven't had cake in like two months.

Oh, I think I just figured out what the problem is.

And here's a baby sloth, just because:

 

Feel The Fear

And do it anyway?

I don't know. It seems too easy. Is it really that simple?

Hundred of thousands of people are going to be pretty ticked off it is.

Lately, some big life decisions have been staring me down. And I'm afraid. It's true. I am.

It's not so much the change. I know it's a normal sort of thing to fear change, but this time, I'm not. If I could snap my fingers and have it all done, I would. The fear is coming from how much work is facing me. Whether it's the right thing for me. If I've actually thought it through.

Ugh. And I'm such an over thinker.

The thing is...I know I want most of it. It's the whole kit and caboodle that's worrying me.

My mom recommended the book Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway. So, I've been reading it.

A lot of it makes sense.

There's this whole knowledge that once you put the ball and motion things will just work out.

Except, I've noticed, things don't just 'work out' for me. They are a struggle. Hard work is involved.

Then I start thinking. Am I simply lazy. Is it because I don't have the energy and money to make these changes happen. Is that why I am balking at it?

I'm not sure.

I tried talking about this the other night, but it lead to me being mocked about something different and put me in a bad mood. Now I'm spouting it off here.

Don't get me wrong. I understand the importance of taking the leap. I understand sometimes we must leap to get what we want. But is it supposed to be this hard?

I guess I'm just conflicted. The doubts are there, but they are actually fairly small. It's the fear it won't work out. Fear it will be a complete failure. And fear I will be doing the majority of the work on my own.

It's easy to stay in your own shell and not venture forth.

That's true.

But people keep telling me it isn't as rewarding.

Signing off,
Unsure In Vancouver

S Is For Skulls

A lot of these posts often reflect on when I was a little girl and have a tedious amount of yammering in them. I fear it's boring. Well, I don't fear it. Honestly, I don't give a crap. Lately, I've come to realize the posts and videos I do are more for me than anyone else. And that isn't because the lack of interaction. Or maybe it is. Mostly it's because I use these spaces as a way to clear my head, kind of like how teenagers use diaries. In this day and age, blogging and vlogging is like having a diary. Except you show the world.

And really, when it comes to mine, the jokes on the world.

Wait, what am I talking about? Oh, right, skulls.

Bones excite me. Whenever I find them at the beach or in the forest, I want to know what kind of animal they are from, or person. Unfortunately, I'm not scientificy enough to be able to tell if it is avian, reptilian, human or from another mammal. Unless there's still skin involved, then it isn't about the bones and more about the flesh and guts. Or if there is a wing. If a bony wing is involved I can put my deerstalker on and figure out it's from a bird.

That said, I have a lot of skulls, fake ones, around my house. Instead of writing about why I like skulls, (becuase they are cool and everything should appreciate what holds and protects the brain, I have decided to give you pictures. Here are some of the skulls and skully things you can find around my house:

Cat Skull:

Sidekick Skull. This is not my Sidekick's skull, (a little small for that) but he gave it to me: 

Snowglobe Skull: 

Glass skull:

Candle Holder Skull: 

Mr. and Mrs Skull:

Pirate Ship Mast Skull:

Necklace Skull:

Bracelet Skull:

Keychain Skull:

Fruit Bowl Skull:

Coffee Cup Skull:

As you can see, I have a healthy amount of skull stuff around the old homestead. This isn't really even the half of it, but I didn't want to do too much digging. Skulls are a key component to any good Halloween. And, apparently, home decor.

If all goes as planned, I'll see you tomorrow for 'T'!