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[personal profile] eumelia
Wow, I haven't updated in almost a week!

Well, here are a few fun things to know. On Sunday and Monday (in which [Southern!Girl] was around and much fun was had) was the annual LGBT Studies/Queer Theory conference An Other Sex.
It was great fun, like all conferences, some panels and lectures were better than others, but nothing tops seeing all the various types of dyks, fags, fag-hags, butch, femme, genderqueers, transmen, transbois, tranwomen, transgrrls, bykes, omnis and everything under the sun and rocks.

That and I got to actually be a part of the proceedings by being a simultaneous translator, along with a fellow dyke, for the Keynote Speaker (Prof. Lee Edelman) who wanted to hear the panel conducted in memory of Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick (z"l) who passed away this past April from breast cancer.

I think next year I'll feel confidant enough to maybe read a paper of my own.
Here's to hoping.

Funnily enough, one of the speakers was Prof. Nancy Pollikoff who spoke about Marriage and basically why we should be rid of it. Now, I had planned to write my own spiel about why I think Marriage should be abolished, but thanks to [livejournal.com profile] _yggdrasil, I don't need to, because she linked to [livejournal.com profile] shemale's brilliant post on the matter:
I've said this elsewhere, but never really made a post about it:

I don't support marriage.

For anyone.

Or, to be more clear, i think that it shouldn't be an institution with any legal merit. To give even more slack here, i don't think that it should hold exclusive privileges over any other kind of relationship... Although its discriminatory history and present make me inclined to think that it should be considered, legally speaking, completely irrelevant.

The exclusive bundling of certain rights and protections leaves those who can't get married, or don't have that type of relationship or family structure that they would feel comfortable with that kind of ceremony but who do need some or all of those rights and protections, in really shitty situations. And it always will.

Go read the rest.

Something else that comes to mind and that I'd been meaning to link and write about is [livejournal.com profile] rm's post about how women are really constructed in our culture(s) - because despite the various geographical and historical differences in Patriarchy this principle holds true everywhere.
Women are not themselves, they are for others.
I'd quote the whole thing but it's better to go with the link and read the comments as well:
The first time I worked clinic defense was the month after I turned eighteen. Now, most people stood in a particular phalanx by the clinic door, especially during the worst of the protests. The phalanx was designed to make sure protesters couldn't crawl through our legs, that there would still be a barrier if they stuck us with pins, which, yes, they did. Then, there were the people stationed inside the clinic, if it had interior doors. Sometimes women would pose as patients and lock themselves to the interior doors, blocking them. Finally, there were the people who escorted the women in and out of the clinic.

I did all three of those jobs at various times, but mostly I either guarded the inside doors of the clinics or escorted patients.

Mostly, the women didn't talk. But sometimes they did, either about nothing in particular or dark humour. It was strange, responding to them, and always being so careful not to reveal any particular sentiment to them.

"I hate this," one woman said. I couldn't but nod, because "this" could have been anything.

She kept talking. "Always being escorted, like I can't go to the doctor by myself."

"I'm sorry, sometimes the protesters pose as patients; it's for everyone's safety."

"But I feel like a child."

And it's true.
I know for myself that I'm asked often in an exasperated tone, "What happened to you?", to me.
Why am I no longer the happy go lucky angel I used to be.
Why am I obsessed with the fact that my hair is a cause of uproar in the family - if it's long it's beautiful, if it's short it should be grown, when it's shaved I'm being deliberately provocative and upsetting my parents and going against all the values I should uphold.

And while I don't use my hair or any part of my body to be deliberately provocative, it happens anyway, because my body being feminine is public and my heart and mind are queer*.
And so long as these facts remain true (most likely for the rest of my life) I will do my best to very deliberatly fuck with the status quo.

It makes me happy.

Happy International Pride Month My Pretties!

*Thank you [livejournal.com profile] rm for that turn of phrase.

Date: 2009-06-03 06:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_yggdrasil/
OMG, stop reading my mind, bb.

Also, did you catch the comment in [livejournal.com profile] rm's thread that I replied to, the person who started arguing with me, asking why do women let themselves be oppressed? I laughed.

Date: 2009-06-03 06:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
OMG, stop reading my mind, bb.
Other way around m'dear!

And no I did not! Linky please! What? The?! Fuck?!?! o_O

Date: 2009-06-03 07:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_yggdrasil/
Anonymous comment on the fourth page.

Date: 2009-06-03 07:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
Rhetorical question... why are people so effing stupid!

Date: 2009-06-03 07:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_yggdrasil/
So if I assault you and bash your face in with a brick, why would you let me do it?

Date: 2009-06-03 07:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_yggdrasil/
Btw, you reminded me ... I need to write an entry on why the word feminazi needs to get defenestrated, stat.

If I ever swing through Israel, you know we're hanging out, yo.

Date: 2009-06-03 07:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
Ugh! I hate that word! So fucking much. I have much to say about the use of Nazi and Fascism in the various contexts in which I just wanna go Inigo Montoya and shout:
That word doesn't mean what you think it means!!!!

Dude, I'm coming back to the States at some point in the next few years (hoping it'll be less than five) and we so are!
Israel is a very fun place to visit, I'll feel compelled to take you to that not awesome places... just so you and prepare yourself for that!

Date: 2009-06-03 07:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_yggdrasil/
It's on like Donkey Kong, haverah.

Date: 2009-06-03 09:34 pm (UTC)
ext_8002: (Default)
From: [identity profile] tinyrevolution.livejournal.com
oh wow, do I wish I was at that conference!!!

Is it actually named after a Dana International song or is Sex Acher just a common phrase?

Date: 2009-06-03 09:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
I'm sure the name of her song was an inspiration, but I'm not sure if it's actually named after it.
It wouldn't surprise me if it was :)

Date: 2009-06-03 10:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] quicksilvermad.livejournal.com
I read through the post (and the comments).

...

Okay, I'm 23 years old, straight, pretty attractive (so I've been told), and I have super long hair. There are a couple places I'm going with this, so bear with me.

First off, I agree that it fucking sucks to be escorted all over the place. And we are. Because I've done what a few of the others have commented about—the whole thing about cars. I know how to check my oil, change my tires, and re-fit loose belts. I learned how to overhaul my engine. How? My mom's grandfather owned a mechanic shop and she used to work for him. So my mom taught me. And my dad taught me some of the other stuff since he used to work as a mechanic at Texaco (WAAAAAAAY back when every gas station offered full service including tune-ups). But I still get that "get the fuck outta here, you're a chick!" face when I start talking cars. Even with guys who've been my friends for years.

Because they see a pretty face, long hair, and a set of tits and think: "Nope, she only knows how to giggle cutely and get herself free drinks." (which I have NEVER done)

This information—the fact that I'm well-versed in "guy talk" is something that actually terrifies most men. To the point where, despite that pretty face, long hair, tits, and slender build, I've never even been on a date. I'm 23 and I've never been kissed. I'm 23 and I'm still a virgin.

Then there's that. Why is there all this pressure for women to lose their virginity? Why do I feel obligated to go around, grab the first cute guy I see, and have a meaningless fling just to get the damned experience out of the way? I can't... It just doesn't make sense. I really like guys—because I can talk to them. I can swear and joke all I want and that's what probably scares them away. Because all that packaging I'm wrapped in disappears and I just become one of them. And I hate that I have to change myself in order to appeal to men. Sure, I love dressing up and looking pretty—but it's a fucking hassle. I shouldn't have to do these things. The fact that I can speak "man" should be something that draws men to me, not away from me.

What was my other point? *scrolls back up* AH! My hair.

My hair comes down to the middle of my back. I prefer wearing it shorter, but there's that caveman mentality that prevents me from cutting it all off again. I remember talking about getting a haircut with a group of my friends (this was back in high school) and one of the guys piped up with "NO! Jesus, don't ever cut your hair!"

Excuse me?

Back then, my hair was almost waist length. I went to college the next year and chopped it all off. Result?

Guys didn't like me as much.

So I'm changing myself like a peacock to get attention. It's desperate and sad and I hate myself for it, because I don't want to end up alone. All my friends are meeting and marrying and leaving me behind to become that spinster aunt whose nieces and nephew play video games with because she's not like Aunt Becca or whatever my brother-in-law's sisters' names are she's the "fun" aunt.

I HATE GETTING CUT OFF LIKE THAT!

Date: 2009-06-03 10:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] quicksilvermad.livejournal.com

I had a "fun" aunt.

She met a guy at the mall who "treated her nice for once" and married him right away. The guy's an asshole. He's a slob, in all definitions of the word. He weighs over 360 pounds and makes her work for their income. I hate him. He's a complete jackass.

I don't want that.

And I don't want to be escorted.

My sister married her equal—they both believe the same things and I have not once seen them angry. Snarky, yes, but not ever angry. And never escorted. She makes her own decisions and goes with them—she doesn't need to discuss things at length with her husband before going ahead and doing them. And I can't say he "let's her do it" because it isn't his say. She's still got a mind of her own.

Why can't I take what I want? Why am I so afraid to be the one to ask the guy out on the date? You know why?

Because society has drilled this fact into my head: It is the man who does the asking. When the woman does it, it's too forward. Too abrasive.

Fuck that. It's because men are scared of women who can speak up. And I need to find that guy who isn't afraid of me. When I do, I'm gonna do all the asking.

*sighs, hangs head, and feels a headache of magnificent proportions coming on*

Ugh. This comment has gone on so long... Fucking LJ cut me off.

Date: 2009-06-04 01:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilacsigil.livejournal.com
What's with the fat-bashing? What difference does it make what weight your aunt's husband is? I've weighed that much and it didn't mean I was a slob or an abuser.

Date: 2009-06-04 03:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] quicksilvermad.livejournal.com
I did not mean to offend. I'm not fat bashing. But I am saying that in this singular instance, the man is an abusive slob. He could weigh 210 and I'd still hate him because his attitude would not change. It's not the weight that makes a person, it's their actual personality.

I can understand how my comment could offend since I didn't go into severe detail about his character.

He's a creep.

Not because of his weight. Because of his personality. My dad is pushing 325, but his personality problems don't add up to "creep." My own personality problems happen to add up from "insecure-emotional-depressed-anxious-obsessive-compulsive-generally-nervous-and-scared" to: Emotional Wreck, and I had a really hard time expressing myself in my comment... I apologize. I was trying to get some point across and I guess nothing really got through...

I'm just...

I'm tired of being alone.

I don't... I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. Anywhere.

I'm sorry that I came across the way I did.

Date: 2009-06-04 03:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilacsigil.livejournal.com
That's cool, I just get sick of people saying "bad person=fat person" so saying "a slob in every way" and mentioning his weight pushed my buttons. It's so common for "fat" to be shorthand for evil/lazy/slob so I try to point it out when people use that shorthand, just like people using "gay" to mean "thing I don't like". I can see it's an emotional situation for you.

Date: 2009-06-04 03:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] quicksilvermad.livejournal.com
I understand.

I wish I could go back up and edit so it's really saying what I mean—I just was typing so fast because [livejournal.com profile] rm's post really nailed everything on the head and got me thinking about my entire life up to this point.

It was a hard blow to the cranium.

Date: 2009-06-04 04:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
I feel everything you say about the hair. Our entire bodies are public, but especially the hair. People feel comfortable touching it without permission, commenting on what hair cut (or not) you should have.

My hair has finally returned to a length in which it looks like I deliberately had a short hair cut and now I'm asked to keep growing it, so that it can go back to this (this is from 2006): http://eumelia.livejournal.com/35947.html#cutid1
I shaved it all off a few months later and was lauded as "brave", though I was told I looked like I had cancer or looked like a holocaust survivor - basically being shamed back into the feminine paradigm.

It sucks.

Date: 2009-06-04 05:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] quicksilvermad.livejournal.com
Exactly. It's my goddamn hair—not yours! It's always men or the grandma-types who scream at me about cutting my hair (not to, that is).

Short, long, choppy, kinked, straight, or shaved. If it's attached to your scalp it should be your decision when it comes to how to "do" it.

I've had people touch my hair before, too. Braid it without my permission (or knowledge) even. It's like (but not as invasive as) when people randomly approach a pregnant woman and feel her belly. You don't do that. And it's not like there's a equivalent to such a thing with men. Maybe shaved heads—but pregnant man-bellies? No.

My sister hated it when people did that to her (all three times she's been pregnant) but didn't have me next to her to say: "dude, would you think it's appropriate for me to feel up your penis through your trousers? Because that's basically what you're doing." Or perpetrate the physical violence on her behalf.

No one respects that personal bubble anymore.

Date: 2009-06-04 01:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilacsigil.livejournal.com
Go you!

but nothing tops seeing all the various types of dyks, fags, fag-hags, butch, femme, genderqueers, transmen, transbois, tranwomen, transgrrls, bykes, omnis and everything under the sun and rocks.

This is why I miss living in a city! Not that there's no visibly gay people in the country (*waves*) but the vast majority move to the city. I miss seeing that variety of people.

Date: 2009-06-04 04:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eumelia.livejournal.com
It was great fun! Especially hanging out with the lecturers and the proffs after the panels :D

Yeah, "Sexual Migration" is what the Gay Historian Demillio calls the phenomenon.
It not really that possible to do that in Israel, 'casue it's do effing tiny, but there are definitely bubbles in areas that don't exist in others - but it's not that difficult to hop on a bus or any other mode of transport and get to a Big City (which would be four hours away Tops wherever you are).

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Eumelia

January 2020

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V and Justice

V: Ah, I was forgetting that we are not properly introduced. I do not have a name. You can call me V. Madam Justice...this is V. V... this is Madam Justice. hello, Madam Justice.

Justice: Good evening, V.

V: There. Now we know each other. Actually, I've been a fan of yours for quite some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking...

Justice: The poor boy has a crush on me...an adolescent fatuation.

V: I beg your pardon, Madam. It isn't like that at all. I've long admired you...albeit only from a distance. I used to stare at you from the streets below when I was a child. I'd say to my father, "Who is that lady?" And he'd say "That's Madam Justice." And I'd say "Isn't she pretty."

V: Please don't think it was merely physical. I know you're not that sort of girl. No, I loved you as a person. As an ideal.

Justice: What? V! For shame! You have betrayed me for some harlot, some vain and pouting hussy with painted lips and a knowing smile!

V: I, Madam? I beg to differ! It was your infidelity that drove me to her arms!

V: Ah-ha! That surprised you, didn't it? You thought I didn't know about your little fling. But I do. I know everything! Frankly, I wasn't surprised when I found out. You always did have an eye for a man in uniform.

Justice: Uniform? Why I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. It was always you, V. You were the only one...

V: Liar! Slut! Whore! Deny that you let him have his way with you, him with his armbands and jackboots!

V: Well? Cat got your tongue? I though as much.

V: Very well. So you stand revealed at last. you are no longer my justice. You are his justice now. You have bedded another.

Justice: Sob! Choke! Wh-who is she, V? What is her name?

V: Her name is Anarchy. And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none. Unlike you, Jezebel. I used to wonder why you could never look me in the eye. Now I know. So good bye, dear lady. I would be saddened by our parting even now, save that you are no longer the woman I once loved.

*KABOOM!*

-"V for Vendetta"

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