I am going to keep this short today as I have to run off and love the beautiful San Diego sun, but please check out the following video shown in the opening of this website about Eve Ensler’s new project, “V-Girls”.  I promise it’s a great way to start out your day and is super inspiring!

http://www.v-girls.org

Also, the always inspiring Ms. Guava posted a link to this amazing Etsy artist and I’m in awe of her pieces.  What an inspiration!  I can’t wait to get my hands on one!

HERE’S TO LOVE, LIFE AND VAGINA!!!  xoxo

I love this poster.  It’s so simple and yet so amazing.  This morning in my attempt to track down a copy of the poster (which seems nearly impossible!), I found myself reading article after article, blog after blog of feminist, body-loving, free spirit writing.  The first article that I came across gives a simple background to the “Ruby Campaign”, the self esteem campaign put out by The Body Shop in 1998 and a little reflection by author of her own struggles with her body.  After reading the whole article, I realized that it was by none other than Kate Harding, the co-author of Lessons from the Fat-O-Sphere: Quit Dieting and Declare a Truce with Your Body, which just happens to be the book that I am reading.  The book was recently given to me by my amazing friend Ms. Guava and has really open my eyes up to a whole new notion of beauty.

I soon found myself reading more about the campaign and came to Anita Roddick, the founder of The Body Shop’s website.  Here she said something very powerful to me, she said:

Ruby [the Barbie-like doll used in the campaign] was a fun idea, but she carried a serious message. She was intended to challenge stereotypes of beauty and counter the pervasive influence of the cosmetics industry, of which we understood we were a part. Perhaps more than we had even hoped, Ruby kick-started a worldwide debate about body image and self-esteem.

Ironically enough, The Body Shop was forced to stop their campaign because Mattel sent a cease-and-desist letter, arguing that Ruby made Barbie look bad. Roddick said that she “was ecstatic that Mattel thought Ruby was insulting to Barbie — the idea of one inanimate piece of molded plastic hurting another’s feelings was absolutely mind-blowing.”  Of course, by this time, I felt my blood boiling.  I don’t know if now, 12 years later, anything is any different.   I found a moment of relief when I came across this blog and was so grateful to see someone else asking the same questions. 

And then I saw this picture:

Not a doll, but a real woman.  And I thought back to what Kate Harding said in that original article.

I did not personally want to look like “Ruby” ever again, and yet, I couldn’t stop looking at that picture of her every damned day. I loved it. I loved her. I just thought I would never, ever be able to be as comfortable in my own skin as that plastic doll. I thought I would never, ever be content with my lot as one of the 3 billion.

That is me.  I am so inspired by this ad, by seeing a real woman, loving her body and in the same breath, I am tearing her apart.  I will never be happy being a size 14, I hear myself thinking.  And I’m reminded of something frustrating that my roommate said.  She said, referring to someone else’s struggle with weight, “She could lose weight if she wanted to.  She just needs to exercise more”.  And even when I confronted her about how triggering that comment was, she didn’t get it.  She didn’t truly get that it’s not that easy.  When you have issues with overeating and your body is in physical pain, losing weight just isn’t that easy.  And losing weight isn’t really the real issue we’re dealing with here.  And so now, I feel the fury boiling greater and greater.  I do not want to be obsessed with losing weight.  I do not want to deprive and restrict myself so that I can fit into a size 8 again because even when I was a size 8, I wanted to be a 4.  I look at these images and read these blogs and think, that is good for them, but I will happier when I’m skinner.  I hide behind the notion of “being healthy”.  I’ll be healthier when I’m skinnier.  Which, frankly, is bullshit.

I want to love my body instead of grabbing the rolls and wishing them away.  I don’t want to fear running into people from my fast, afraid that all they will see is how much weight I’ve gained.  And I don’t want to look at pictures of people I knew in high school and comment in my head about they weight they’ve gained. 

This cycle, this evil, cruel, demeaning cycle, MUST END NOW! 

So the question is, in this society, can I truly be fat and happy?

What Teachers Make, or Objection Overruled, or If things don’t work out, you can always go to law school
By Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is, “What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?”
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true what they say about
teachers:  Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite company.

“I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor,” he says.
“Be honest. What do you make?”

And I wish he hadn’t done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you get a drink of water?
Because you’re not thirsty, you’re bored, that’s why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, “Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?”
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?

And so, I find myself in a conundrum.  Who am I to change the history of salsa dance?  And I recognize that there is a great deal about the history I do not know, reasons why the dynamic is the way it is and there IS a since of partnership in the dance, in that the follower has to hold up a certain degree of resistance to be able to follow the lead of the leader.  And so, I am open to discussion and more than willing to retrack all of these statements if proven wrong, if shown that salsa is not a sexist dance.  But yet, the practice is still there in the way I am being taught and it leads me to ask myself, “how do I partake in a dance that I think is sexist and still feel proud of myself?”  Is it enough to say that I think it’s fun?  Is it naive to hope that I can learn salsa well enough to be able to continue the rise of gender nuetral dancing?

To make the whole situation worse, last Sunday my teacher used an analogy to teach all of us some basics of the dance that was so insulting and sexist that my mouth dropped to the ground and I found myself stepping back, unable to stand up and say, “what the fuck!?”  His analogy was that the woman is like a car, like a beautiful red sports car.  She needs to be low to the ground like a sports car to have the speed and agility to freely move.  She needs to not be wound up too tight, but also not too loose.  Her hands are the steering wheel that the guy needs to turn.  The guy needs to tell the woman where he wants her to go, like driving a beautiful red corvette.  I am not exaggerating!  I understand the analogy that our hands are the turn signals and the leader cannot move then around crazy like because the leader uses their hands to tell the follower which direction is coming up soon.  I get that analogy, but that analogy does not insinuate that either person is a fucking car!  My friend says I should tell him how upset his comments made me, but of course, I’m afraid of the confrontation and have 4 more classes already paid for, so I’m back to the conundrum.  How do I participate in such a sexist practice that I just happen to be in love with?  :D

But finally, enough was enough.  I want to be able to say I shave because I do it for me, because there is some reason that I want to shave and not because we are programmed to believe the sexist notion that women are dirty or gross if we choose not to shave.  I came to realize that I am angry. I am angry at our society for making me feel as if my right to not shave makes me be seen as less sexy, less feminine, or less attractive in the eyes of the majority of the people.  And so, I threw out my razors and have been free from shaving for the past month.  It’s  been a struggle.  Taking a salsa dance class and twisting around, baring my new lovely hair, brought up a whole mess of insecurities.  It forces me into a space of  constantly questioning how others are perceiving me.  And that makes me angry!  But I refuse to be part of such a sexist, cruel, unforgiving establishment.  And slowly, I’ve started to build up pride and love for my hair.  I am beginning to enjoy the natural scent of my body, to appreciate the way it looks and feels and to start reevaluating how I view my own beauty.  It’s not an easy fight, but it’s one I’m feeling very proud of.

Long live beautiful hair!

And then tonight, I drove to Irvine to see lovely Ms. Guava’s directorial debut of The Vagina Monologues and I fell in love with vaginas all over again.  Many times the performances brought me to tears and I was ecstatic to finally get to see the transgendered monologue.  For years, I’ve been upset that that monologue is not often in the performances, as I think it opens people’s eyes to a whole different community that is often not included with the traditional vagina empowerment movement.  And so, it brought me to tears.  I was also in love with their dance number and was happy to see that they had incorporated that into the piece.  I was very pleased with UCI’s entire production and was happy that they spent so much time focusing on trying to get the audience to understand the necessity to not just shrug and leave the messages of the show at the door, but to share your knowledge with every friend, family member and stranger.

I strongly believe in the V-Day movement and am proud for all fo the beautiful men and women who have stood up to fight to end violence against all women.  I am going to start holding Vagina Empowerment Craft Days at my house, and perhaps at a local Sex Shop.  I am hoping to provide a space where people can come and talk about their experiences, their feelings, the politicals, the fights, and the appreciation of Vaginas!  I’m excited about the idea as I haven’t really seen many of these workshops being done around here and I for one, would like to see more of them.  Let me know if anyone has any clever names for the workshops.

If you haven’t check out the V-Day website at: www.vday.org and find a local performance of The Vagina Monologues as it will change your life!

xoxo.  Here’s to loving the cunt!  Viva la Vulva!