I ♥ Sluts

The other day I was coming from ballet and walking back to my car. I'd taken off my tights and was just in my leotard and spankies. This old lady looked at me and said, "Oh honey, don't dress like that. You're gonna get raped."

Really? It's over 90 degrees outside, but I'm supposed to be wearing tights and a sweater because something about my leotard inspires violent and misogynistic crime?

Really?

There is this terrifying culture of "slut shaming" that I see around me, and it pisses me off. When it comes to rape, we as a society are so quick to blame the victim. "She was asking for it because she was dressed that way." I see where this comes from. For one thing, there's the need to paint the victim as being somehow different from us. We need to distance ourselves from her so we don't have to face the fact that we could be her. Then there's the more salient fact that to admit the victim is blameless is to admit that there are problems in our society that make it dangerous for women to walk home alone at night, or wear tight clothes, or even just exist. That's crap.

We need to place the blame where it belongs: with the rapist and the patriarchy who created him. Because if we don't address the actual problem and keep blaming women, we'll never fix that problem and the cycle of violence will continue. As it has. I see it all the time. Men hit on me all the time on BART, on the street, on the bus. They talk to my chest or just stare at me. And I'm not even wearing "slutty" clothes. But even if I were, that's not ok. I don't stare at men's junk through their cargo shorts, do I? It's not ok for women to stare at men's crotches because it's rude, but when men look at me and make me feel really uncomfortable, it's just "boys being boys." Which is just one step away from, "Rape is just boys being boys." Which is "It's men's right to look at you. You're just an object, a pretty thing for their amusement." No. I'm just trying to get to school. Fuck off.

So head high sluts, ballerinas, high-heel lovers, and anyone else. And I will be dressing in my shorts and a low cut top when I feel like it. And I will walk back to my car without having a man accompany me. Why?

Because I should be able to.

Open Letter to My Nemmy

This is an open letter to my dear friend and second mother, who left seven months ago and hasn't been back since.

Hey.

You've been gone a long time. And now you're coming back, I think, but I'm not sure. This wouldn't be the first time you were supposed to come back into my life and didn't. But that doesn't matter. I know that it's just a matter if time before we're forced back into each other's lives and there are some things I wanna say. Starting with this.

I'm sorry. I did things and said things that, looking back now, are abominable. I'm not going to make excuses and I'm not going to explain, because there are no excuses and there is no explanation. I'm sorry.

I miss having you in my life. You have missed so much. I have too. Makes me sad. 

I'm not angry with you. If I said I didn't feel some anger, though, I'd be lying. But I don't hate you. I have never been angry at you. I've been angry at your actions, your words, and your choices, but never with YOU. Please know that.

I do want you back in my life. I don't know if that can happen but I want it to. At this point I guess it's up to you. If you were standing in front of me now, I don't know what I would say about this. And I don't even know what I want to say now, sitting in front of my computer and typing this. Great.

I'm glad that you were able to reach back to me. It gives me hope. I'm not sure what I'm hopeful for, but I know there's hope there. It's out of our hands now :)

I love you, I promise.

Why You Crying?

The other day I was having a terrible day, the kind that makes you feel like the entire world is crashing down around you and you can hardly breathe. I was sitting on a stoop outside the Ballet School when a well-meaning passer by came up to me and asked, "Why you crying?"

I'm crying because Bush initiated the Patriot Act and now my entire Iranian family is on the "no fly" list.

I'm crying because I live in a capitalistic society that measures the value of my person by the value of my capital.

I'm crying because my grandparents don't speak English and I have no way to connect with them.

I'm crying because I'm starving myself in order to feel feminine enough in my culture.

I'm crying because my dearest friend is stuck in a patriarchal relationship in which her fiance won't let her see her friends.

I'm crying because I don't know how much of me is me and how much is constructed.

I'm crying because fix it.