I don’t even know what to say or do at this point. It all seems so inescapable—online harassment, street harassment, the microaggressions and the full on aggressions women face, the rampant sexual violence women face, and then our popular culture reflecting this sickening reality and asking us to consume it quietly, like good little girls.
I was a good girl for a long time and it never did me any good. We should all be done being good girls if it means swallowing sexist, toxic bullshit that will only continue killing us softly.
Right now, children’s literature is seeing an intense flare-up in the ongoing conversation about the diversity crisis in children’s books. While this conversation has been going on for decades, now social media has given the people having it megaphones, and they are using them to brilliant ends….
“Considerable debate has been devoted to the subject of the Unlikable Female Protagonist, a common pest of the natural world. While it is not our intent here to contribute to the extensive literature on her value as an object of study, we hope that by clarifying and outlining her identifying characteristics we may make a valuable and practical addition to the current research being conducted in the field.”—http://www.stackedbooks.org/2014/03/the-unlikable-female-protagonist-field.html
“And then after a few hours I looked up from my desk instead, and saw it: my favorite street cat had somehow got stuck on the roof of the apartment building adjacent to mine, seven stories up, and was howling disconsolately into the void from the very edge, framed neatly by the window over my desk. There was no escaping the hopelessness of its situation, or its desperate cries, and there was nothing I could do to get it down.”—http://www.therejectionist.com/2014/03/on-precipices.html
In Ukraine, vampires are thought to be recognizable by their propensity to speak aloud to themselves. This morning on the Q, a woman wearing headphones, having an animated conversation with an invisible partner: all about her, persons in stylish dress and sunglasses, reading The New Yorker. Secret agents, or commuters? I looked away; when I looked back again, the woman I suspected of being a vampire was staring directly at me. I see you, she said, and exited the train.