on choices

we shouldn't be surprised by the amount of depravity the internet—originator of two girls, one cup—can trot out, but the comments on this photo essay documenting domestic violence are revolting nonetheless. many call out the victim for not making better choices in her relationships. but who are these people for whom it is so easy to choose a white picket fences life with the perfect job and perfect spouse? lord knows it would behoove me, an foregone artist, to live off the earnings of a millionaire, but i wouldn't know where to meet one and certainly wouldn't make it past his/her security guard if i did. what's your secret, kate middleton? it's not easy for any of us to escape the life we're born into. some of us, like me, are lucky enough that we don't have to escape. but others seem to take up endlessly berating those who exhibit a shocking lack of free choice. perhaps they do so to fulfill the fantasy that america is a meritocracy, and that everything they want is within their reach, even as they grasp at fleeting mirages and thin air.

bossypants

i've been rediscovering the joys of reading—oh, orlando!—that pasttime where it's ok to let your body be a vegetable and have your mind's adventures count as activity (a shocking revelation to a compulsive go-getter).

there's this part in tina fey's book, where she writes about how most women come to realize they are a woman, by the sexual harassment they receive. i beg to differ. sexual harassment sends me careening backwards to being a girl and just discovering these awkward lumps on my body, whose strange formations would be used as a weapon against my sense of self. being a girl means having your life at the mercy of others, subject to their sneering battering at any moment and not having the tools to defend yourself. this is the quintessential feeling of shame and helplessness that street harassers try to elicit.

conversely, i first crossed the threshold into woman-ness maybe one, two years ago, when i was able to step back, look at my life, and realize that i had my shit together. and i realized something more, that no matter what pits of misery life would throw me into, i would never lose my ability to get my shit together, and that no one, no one catcalling from the street, could take that away from me. it took a lot of fucking up and emotional immaturity before i reached this state of zen-like enlightenment. i always thought being a woman connoted being someone with shoulder pads and no sense of humor, but actually, it's pretty awesome to be out of the girl phase of my life. i am woman, hear me roar!