CONTAINS SWEARS (a warning for my relatives who may read this)

RELATIVES, See TITLE.

In general, I don’t do confrontation well.  I tend to shake in the midst of debates, especially those with people I care about.  I always end up crying when my boyfriend and I fight.

Specific instances though, when I can let a blind rage pour out of my mouth and body…. that is one intense type of a drug let me tell YOU.

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Scene:  The Old Broadway, the only place to dance to :The Hits of Today” in North Fargo.  And I am dancing my FACE OFF.

Jerk grabs my butt and I straight-up see him do it, just reach out like he owns me,  the dancefloor’s freaking empty.

I walk up to him, pinch him HARD in the belly (really let those nails dig in).  And start the tirade, devoid of fear, filled with the rage of the goddess…

“MY BODY.  MINE, ASSHOLE.  I will CUT OFF YOUR DICK.  You CANNOT DO THAT, my dad is a COP” (not sure why I said that, but whatever).

Then I rage-danced for a little while, punctuating any eye contact with pantomiming my fingers as scissors and repeating my manhood  mutilating threat.  Next time I’ll make my eyes go all crazy and say “I’VE DONE IT BEFORE”.

Eventually he tried to say it was an accident after which I swore at him some more and he actually left the dance floor out of shame or awkwardness, who knows.

Felt so good, never had a high like that.  There has been so much rage building up in me for men that think they own me, own woman in general, and can do whatever they want to us.  Sometimes I forget about them, because I have such good men in my own life for friends, family, and of course boyfriend.  But the OB always makes me remember.

I can go into this blind rage for racism and homophobia too, so nice to know I’m not limited.

Letting go of Control

This blog post: In Defense of Letting Kids Talk Back is applicable to so many areas of my life and I ain’t even child-rearing yet.

It’s hard to not exert your will over others, if not through outright ordering, then through coercion and manipulation. Sometimes I just really really want one of my friends to go to some event or class with me, something they’re not that into but I just know would be so fun for them.

I need to work on letting other people say no and letting that be enough.

Something from the comments:  “Not allowing people to say no in everyday life is basically erasing them as people.” – Speedwell.

Feel that so hard.    My parents didn’t discuss.  Their word was law.  I was a bratty kid. I always complained, argued, refused.  That wasn’t… um… that wasn’t encouraged.

And look at me now! Refusing alcohol and drugs on the regular! (Well usually just alcohol).  There was this guy I stayed with (my first couchsurfing experience actually) and he kept insisting that he had bought wine specifically for my visit so I had to drink it.  I explained why I don’t drink, I said thanks, but it will just be wasted on me since I won’t enjoy it, but he would not respect that.  In the end I took a glass, waited until he left the room for a minute, then dumped it down the drain.

People like this are one giant red flag.  Which is why I need to learn to not accept this behavior from others including and especially myself. Be the friend you want to see in the world, and all that.

I keep learning more about how awesome and important consent is.  Love it.

Found this song.. Somehow reminds me of the Postal Service.

Words are not Enough

The American media chooses to focus on trivialities, (not limited to, but certainly including, a dead lion named Cecil).  However, ultimately I do blame myself for not being more informed. 

Anyways.  A couple days ago I read this article on ISIS and sex-trafficking (TW: sexual assault).

Isis Enshrines a Theology of Rape

Awful doesn’t cover it.  It is so absolutely f**ked up that sex, this beautiful, wonderful thing, can be corrupted and used as a tool of destruction and hate.  SICK SICK SICK.

Some of this is being combated by a man named Steve Maman, who is buying these women (and in some cases, children) from ISIS to give them back their lives.

Read that story here:  A Canadian Businessman Inspired by Oskar Schindler Is Buying Back Christians and Yazidis Captured by Islamic State .

I don’t donate anything. Ever.  I am always too worried about corrupt charities, and ultimately I always decide its better to just give nothing.  That has to change.  I believe in this man.  I have to donate to his cause.  Please consider supporting him as well.

http://www.gofundme.com/liberationCYCI

again.

sorry ripped this off tumblr and CANNOT figure out who the original poster was.

This hits me.  I was not taught this.  I was taught only one thing:

No sex before marriage.

Okay I thought teenage boys were just horny and it wasn’t *really* their fault if they just pushed and pushed until you gave in.  I wish I wish I wish I would have known, when someone doesn’t respect the word”No” kick him the hell out of your life.  Once I left for college I never had problems with this again.  No one pushed it, because….

I make a point of ridding my life of anyone who is not good for me.  I have made a business of leaving people behind.

I guess learning things the hard way is the best way to make the message stick.

No.

“The first time a man slapped me on the ass, I was fourteen years old, bussing tables at a family restaurant.
Catcalls make me jump out of my skin. I have never figured out how to take them as a compliment.

When I learned that “no” did not always stop slipping lips and wandering hands, I was sixteen. I was told that it was my fault for being tempting. I haven’t left the house with shorts on for years. It makes me nervous to be alone somewhere with another person when I have a dress on.

I always get uncomfortable when men make jokes about why women go to the bathroom in groups. Nobody likes to hear that we are taught from the youngest age that we should never go anywhere alone.

The second time that “no” did not stop someone, my date pulled up in front of my house and hit the door lock, wrapped his hand around my throat because I told him I just thought we should be friends.

The third time, I was sprawled out on a hammock in the front lawn with a man I’d been out with a handful of times. When I first said “no”, I thought maybe he didn’t hear me. “Please no, please don’t”. “Please no, please don’t.” “Please no, please don’t.”

Once I was told by a man that it was my fault if he ever went too far because his brain was wired like an animal. I didn’t argue. Can you believe that I didn’t argue? I wanted to say that even my dogs recognize the word “no”, but I was afraid of how he would react. I had to sit through the rest of the date with a smile on my face.

I carry my keys just to walk to the mailbox at night. I’m too paranoid to jog down my street alone.

I have been groped on the sidewalk. I have been groped at the bar. I have been groped on the bus.

The time I was followed all the way to my friend’s car by a group of men who stood around laughing and jeering and banging on the windows, not letting us pull out of the parking garage, was the last time I ever let a man buy me a drink at a bar.

I have men in my life who would call themselves my friends who have put their hands on my hips and my thighs without my permission. There is no question. They do not think they have to ask. They laugh when I bristle.

It took twenty-two years to realize only I had a right to my body.

I used to bite my tongue, but I do not say “no” quietly anymore. I bark my discomfort like an old dog, weary and uncomfortable even in its sleep.”

“this is not a fucking poem; it is an outrage (I Spent Twenty-Two Years Trying To Be Nice About It)” Trista Mateer

I will make MYSELF a sandwich in the glorious kitchen of "I don’t need no man"

A Facts Sheet:  Aggressively Single
Alternative Title: why I won’t date you.

In High School I:

  • had a job as a Certified Nurses Assistant
  • did my own laundry
  • bought my own clothes
  • did my own taxes
When I started college, I received no financial help from my parents.  I still don’t.  Also, my family doesn’t really do presents.  Gum, sometimes. Or when my brother made me Indian street vendor food for my birthday.
THUS

When it comes time to win my heart, you cannot do so by spending money on me.  I will become paranoid that you are trying to force me to become dependent on you so that I can’t leave, addicted to the things that you buy for me.
I do not intend to relinquish my independence, not for a very long time.  Men that try to do things for me freak me out.
If I’m being honest, men with money in general freak me out.
I like being single.  I like traveling, and being able to do whatever I want without “checking in” with someone all the time.  
I mean, come on, I’m freaking YOUNG.  Still almost a year away from even being twenty-two, not to mention my passport doesn’t expire for almost a decade.    
Accept that I want to belong to myself. 
Sorry for the rant. Actually, not sorry. That’s what blogs are for.

also here is a good song.