I recently came across a Youtube video entitled “Shrinking Women,” which is a piece of slam poetry written and performed by Lily Myers. It discusses the topic of bodies and the space they take up. I found this piece to be profound and it immediately reminded me of this course.
I was reading an article on the internet the other day. It was about a young girl in Towson who had been raped while she was walking back home. I scrolled down to the comments and there had been a few comments that had stood out to me. One comment stated “Not trying to be rude, but why was this girl out walking alone 1 in the morning?” this comment was followed by a reply basically agreeing with the comment above saying that if you’re going to be walking alone at 1 am, you’re asking for problems.”
Why is it, that a woman can’t be safe while she is walking home. Why can’t a woman be as independent and as free as she chooses. Why as a woman should we be forced with a curfew as to when we can and cannot walk to places? As a woman we have so many societal restrictions and hazards we face every day. We are always looking over our shoulders making sure we are not in harms way. Is this a new norm in society where we can’t trust the people walking around us? If so that is is a ridiculous social norm that really needs to be changed. As women we should be able to do what ever it is that we want to do even if it is a simple as walking home at 1 in the morning. As for our male counterparts, you need to learn that when a woman is walking down the street at one in the morning please don’t rape her. If you have some sick sexual desire please seek some help for it, do not take it out on the woman walking to her home
The other day, I had my sister come visit me at school (it was under the pretense of free grilled cheese afterwards, so I was all for it). After the small 2-room tour of the entire apartment, we came to my room and settled in for a chat. Nothing serious, just the normal “How are classes going?”, “How are things at home?” type of talk. However, a few minutes later, her eyes glanced over to my open closet where a few button up polos and some sweatshirts were the only hanging garments.
“What are those?”
I silently sign my name on the sheet telling the front desk staff sitting at the computer that I am here, and sit down in a generic, but expensive-looking chair.
Aiming for comfort.
Women are glued to their copies of Parenting or Marie Clare. A couple sitting cattycorner to each other look up at me, and then glance back at each other talking. An instrumental version of Memories from the musical Cats plays softly in the background. I don’t have a magazine, so I take up Candy Crush. After 10 minutes the woman at the front desk calls my name.
“Hi, Amelia! We just need to get a urine sample from you, so if you could just go down the hallway and to the second door on the left and leave that for us in the metal cabinet, then go to room number two, that’d be excellent!”
Anyone who frequents or even casually plays online games are likely to be familiar with the stereotypes and vitriol surrounding the “girl gamer.” If she exists at all, which very often she does not, she is in your games and responsible for your team’s loss. She’s probably just a “casual” gamer who should stay out of the “big leagues.” She probably isn’t a real gamer at all.
![tumblr_m4s3tvjXWd1qfq9sno1_500[1]](https://unruly-bodies.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/tumblr_m4s3tvjxwd1qfq9sno1_5001.jpg)
Am I doing it right?
Of course, on the internet, and in particular in the forum of a game where you have maybe an hour to construct your gender to a group of strangers who will likely never know your face or body or even name, being a “girl gamer” is less about bodies and more about gendered expectations. Bodies certainly are involved with those expectations, though.
TW for slurs, mentions of casual binarism, mentions of homophobia
Every morning I make the same breakfast sandwich: two eggs and cheddar cheese between two slices of toasted bread. As a kid I never ate breakfast, but as an adult I look forward to it. Breakfast not only tastes good, it also gives me energy I need to start my day.
Today isn’t like the other days. On any other day, I would wash down my breakfast with a glass of milk. Today I feel brave, defiant; today, I feel like taking a risk.
Before making my breakfast sandwich, I open the fridge and peer inside. I could have milk, with its comforting pH of almost 7. It’s not much different from water, which in its purest form is a perfect 7. Courage, or maybe stupidity for all I know, floods me as I reach past the milk and pull out a bottle of orange juice.
‘Yes,’ I think to myself, ‘This will work.’
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the issue of women’s bodies being viewed as public property. From cat calls to groping, it seems that many men have a clear sense of entitlement to women’s bodies in public spaces. This way of thinking and acting is incredibly prevalent in our society, and the cultural encouragement of this behavior is especially disturbing. I recently watched several videos by Stuart Edge and Andrew Hales that completely condone this type of behavior by harassing women and then playing it off as a fun joke.
I’m very passionate about pursuing graphic design/animation, but I can’t help but wonder if it may consume me like a parasite when I finally reach my ambition. As with any career or job, people are immensely dedicated and motivated by the drive or salary that career/job provides them. But at some point or another that same “drive” may cause their mind, body, and soul to cling ONLY to that one job or career. What about family, friends, and “me” time? Will that all just fade into the background? Or will it even matter at all once one gets to the top?
I know, I’m probably overthinking all of this, but it is quite possible. Growing up, I’ve witnessed my Dad working overtime every day except on Sundays, and one could tell that he was devoted to his work. He is self-employed and owns his own appliance business, and his body became “one” with the machinery that he repaired and sold daily to his customers. His life revolved around carrying heavy refrigerators, squeezing inside limited spaces to repair washing machines/dryers, stuffing himself inside the grossest stoves to get them cleaned for delivery, etc. It was like he was sent on this earth only to work with these appliances. I know his drive was to provide for the family, but it seemed like the business was his first priority.
Same can apply to certain friends and acquaintances I know that either have full-time or part- time jobs. All they are focused on is getting to work in order to get that weekly paycheck. The majority of their minds dwell on their job, and nothing else. It is like they are enslaved mentally, almost oblivious to everything in life around them, becoming lifeless and transforming into “job zombies”.
I will continue pursuing my ideal career with great stride, but it seems like in today’s society, human beings are only sources of labor, physically and mentally. Does one need to become a “job zombie” in order to remain at a comfortable financial status? Or can one also fit plenty of life’s other values into the picture as well? Oh well, all that I know is, I have to find an answer to that second question, because I refuse to become a lifeless human being that only commits to my career; my religion, family and friends share a great value as well and greatly deserve as much attention in my life as possible.
The guy I went to prom with called me a waste the day I came out to him. He looked me in the eye and said this with a smile on his face as if it what he were proud of what he just said. This wasn’t the last time something like this had ever been said to me. On multiple occasions I have been called “selfish”, “unfair”, and “a waste” by a number of men because of my sexual orientation. And on every one of these occasions I ask them all the same question, “Why?”. Continue reading
I feel I can safely say that the majority of women I have crossed paths with throughout my lifetime have, at one point or another, completely obsessed over the locks on their heads. What a woman does or does not do with the “filamentous bio-material” that grows from follicles in the skin on one’s skull seems to carry heavy social messages to the world around us.
I believe my hair tells a long and continuous story. The really ridiculous and really awesome things I have done to my hair are like little mental chapter markers; the hairstyles I’ve had are connected to memories of personal struggles and important events that have taken place throughout my lifetime. On one level, the long story of the obsessions I’ve had with my hair and what I have chosen to do with it is purely personal. Yet on another level, a much larger level, this post about the relationship I have with my hair can reflect the many struggles and external pressures that a large number of American women share.
Unruly Bodies 