Sluts vs Players

So I was on the train the other day, casually minding my own business, when I heard a small group of girls a few rows down from where I was sitting (who looked to be in their late teens) talking about a “slut” they knew. Not bothering to keep their voices down – I’m assuming it was because there weren’t many people in the carriage – they gossiped with abandon about how this girl had supposedly been with many guys, and how people had found out and bullied/bad-mouthed her about it.

Now, I know what they were talking about is nothing out of the norm, but what was unsettling was that they seemed to relish the fact that she was being bullied. I won’t elaborate on how the girl was apparently bullied or to what extent, but the fact is that she was, and that these girls felt it was justifiable. At that moment, two things simultaneously popped up in my mind; I suddenly thought of pop artist Lily Allen’s latest single, Hard Out Here (where she sings about the inequality in treatment between promiscuous males and females), and mentally asked myself if these girls would relish or at least relish it as much if a promiscuous male was bullied, or bad-mouthed etc.

Lily Allen has a b***y p***y.

Lily Allen has a b***y p***y.

The answer in my mind was most likely not.

Because judging from other times that I’ve seen or heard people talking about similar matters, such males are only called reasonably offensive names and more often than not, they’re simply regarded as “players”. Whereas with females, the words “slut” and “whore” are often used with a heavy intent to denigrate them, and in some cases, almost make every word or action of hurt that comes their way seem justifiable.

So it’s obvious they earn heavier societal repercussions than their male counterparts do, and that is something I fail to understand. If, for example, both a male and female were to have the same (large) number of sexual partners and/or encounters – and the word “large” is very subjective here – it would most likely be the female who gets degraded and vilified more heavily. Lily Allen candidly sums this up with her lyrics, “If I told you ‘bout my sex life, you’d call me a slut…When boys be talking about their bitches, no one’s making a fuss…”

I know this topic/issue is nothing new, but having seen and heard people slut-shaming (as it is casually referred to) every so often, it’s irritating to see the discrepancy in treatment between both genders – especially when we’re supposed to be living in an era where males and females are equal, in a sense. I mean, I know it’s obvious that religion, culture, society/social norms and upbringing etc influences or helps to shape our views and opinions on these matters but to be honest, it’s simply unjust and demeaning to females, to say the least. Allowing males to do as they please in terms of sexual ventures and having any number of sexual partners without the harsh condemnation sets females back by far – in a way, it’s like restricting a right.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from being a misandrist, and I’m not going to inject my own views on promiscuity here either – as it is both unnecessary and irrelevant – nor am I aiming to sway other people’s views on it as it is a quite a complex and subjective matter – for example, people have different opinions on what it means to be promiscuous, or if it’s morally right or wrong etc. But what certainly needs to be pointed out is that in this day and age, females should have more rights than they have had previously, and having the right to be treated as equally as males in terms of sexual ventures and experiences is one of them.

– by Rosemary Nguyen

A Feminist Against Feminism

Now don’t let the heading fool you.

I am a pretty chilled (male) feminist. I believe women should be paid the same amount as men for doing the exact same job. I think women should be allowed to wear whatever they want without men feeling the need to sexually assault them. I even sometimes have issues playing a video game where you are forced to be a male because really, I’m pretty sure a kickass female could do the same job just as good if not better than Michael, Franklin and Trevor from GTA V.

In saying that, there are some times where feminism just gets absolutely ridiculous. This type of feminism is sometimes referred to as “radical” or “extreme” feminism. Whilst looking at cute pictures of Prince George – who could possibly rival the total cuteness of my nephew Drake – I stumbled upon this image which made me laugh because: A) It was so stupid that there was no other way to react and B) I didn’t think people thought like this anymore. Click on the picture to enlarge it and see the ridiculousness:

Like really?

Like really?

The cute little baby hasn’t done anything to anyone (besides be a freakin’ adorable baby)! His parents are full of class and poise and are doing a pretty solid job as their role as “Aesthetically Pleasing Royal Couple of Cambridge”. They haven’t done anything to women. The matriarch of the commonwealth is a woman for sobbing out loud. I don’t understand why people would have an issue with the Royal Baby being a male.

I was listening to a radio show a while ago (actual time length not determined) and the radio DJ was interviewing a feminist whose name has left me at this point in time. My interest sparked because, being a feminist, I like to listen to other feminists speak strongly of their beliefs. However, I was majorly disappointed. She had a problem with women wearing skirts and would snidely refer to them as “skirt wearers” and she also felt that women who shaved or waxed their body hair were “unnatural” and “were only doing so to please men”. Oh, and she felt that pads/tampons were unnecessary and thought women who wore them were subjecting themselves to be slaves to men or some crap like that.

I did not think that there were people like this still out there but apparently there is. I’m all for freedom of speech and people should be able to express their opinion without being absolutely shat upon for saying what they believe, but when opinions are this close-minded and come off as, quite frankly, stupid, I lose a tiny bit of hope in humanity.

If a man said half the things that these extreme feminists have been saying, they would be lynched immediately whilst insults such as “misogynistic pig” and “sexist fuck” would be thrown at them. The media would have a field day and would turn that man into a criminal. An extreme feminist says these things? Sure, people will think bad of him/her, but that’ll be it. No lynching. No coarse insults. Just a few bad thoughts.

In 1968, extreme feminists protested a Miss America pageant by throwing typically feminine things into a garbage bin to “represent freedom”. Women fighting against other women to demand equality. Yeah. Nice logic. How dare people live their own lives?! I don’t have a problem with a woman who wants to participate in a beauty pageant as much as I don’t have a problem with a woman who wants to be a scientist or a police officer. Let’s get serious, everyone.

I want women to be equal to men but some of these extreme feminists act is if they want to live on a planet called Amazonia where men are put in prison if they look at a woman wrong. Yes, that was a Josie and the Pussycats reference. Quite frankly – and I hope I don’t offend anyone by this – I think these extreme feminists are ridiculous.

– by The Black Widow

Bad Days: Understanding Assholes

Everything is making you upset, bad things seem to be following you, and the stress of it all is transforming into a silent and sad rage. It’s just another day, except you’re pissy at the universe and the universe is retaliating. It isn’t really though, because I’ve lived through this day; in fact, I experience this phenomenon two to three times in a good week.

"My hair looks like crap? I hate everyone."

“My hair looks like crap? I hate everyone.”

It can be akin to a child who ruins their day at Sea World because they’re still grumpy about not riding shotgun on the way there. When you wake up upset, everything in your path will make you more so as the day goes on, and when it’s over you feel like the irrational and idiotic person you hate other people for being. It’s the hindsight that really kills you, and you end up having a string of thoughts similar to this:

‘You idiot, you got upset over that? You’re a real shit-head. Here, have this big reality check.’.

But even if you’re flipping tables, or cussing-out your mother, or death-staring strangers on the train, there’s something you should know; it’s a shame to think that anything you feel is invalid.

I’m going to take a chapter out of the Big Book of Cliches and say that nobody is perfect, and human nature makes us prone to dramatise everything that we do and everything that is done to us. If we’re lucky, there’s always someone around to tell us when we’re being unreasonably shitty, but even then we can’t pretend to switch off the feelings that have already bubbled to our brim.

Example: My partner tried to kiss me but instead smashed his nose into my face. What a funny little accident, right? Nope, not in my state of despair; this was just another sign that the universe was against me. Once my anger subsided to muffled misery, the unloading began, and suddenly he became an audience member to the tragic play that was my Tuesday:

‘It’s just that my mum called, and that made me miss her, but also we didn’t have milk for coffee, and my hair wasn’t doing that flippy thing I like, and oh yeah, I’m sad about how strained me and my father’s relationship has become.’

And just like that my day from Hell was diminished to a few annoyances and a huge emotional issue that was lying dormant in my self-conscious. If I had taken the time to talk to someone about this, or even think about it myself, I might have had the best damn day of my life. But realistically, days like this can’t be avoided so easily, because when emotion takes over, all rationality is crumpled up and thrown into the gutter – and this is why I desperately try to apply this to all the other seemingly evil people I come across.

When an old lady cuts in front of me at the shops, sure, I hate her and all other elderly people in the world, but only briefly, because I know there’s an excuse for her rudeness. Maybe she only has two more hours to live, and before she dies she has to purchase a photo frame for her only daughter, Jessica, and place inside a picture of them sitting on the beach together from their Perth trip back in 89′, just to let her know that she will always be with her and that her love for Jessica is as endless as the waves of that ocean.

Not only do I admire this lady’s love for her daughter, but I pity her, because she is going to be dead by the time I eat the chocolate I’m waiting in line to pay for. I know the story is farfetched and lame, but I’d like to think that instead of this lady being a total dick, there’s a reason for her actions, because I know I’ve always uncovered a reason behind mine. But this doesn’t excuse the lesson that taking the time to sort out the emotional stress in your head will make you less of an asshole, and more attuned to all the goodness in your day.

So instead of categorising your feelings or the feelings of others as unworthy, think of why people do the things they do. When you’re having a bad day take the time to figure out why, rather than spend it hating on yourself and others because you might feel like you have the freedom to wallow in your own frustrations, but it comes at a cost, not just to your day but to the people around you.

– by Josefina Huq

Sharing Is Caring

…Except when it’s really, really annoying.

The internet has made everything seem trivial. Our entire lives can be shared and updated in seconds and can be edited or deleted at will. Waiting to share life-changing news with someone face-to-face was once an exciting event but ‘ZOMG! Just got engaged! ILY 4EVA’ has a delightful immediacy to it. The major drawback here is that instead of cracking open a bottle of champagne and celebrating with you, your five billion Facebook friends just click ‘like’ and keep scrolling down to the pictures of cats in tights.

In short, through the constant barrage of status updates, tweets, Tumblr posts about every mundane thing in life has led everyone you know to make the same conclusion; we’re just not that into you.

We’re not into Candy Crush, or Farmville or any of the other stupid games you want us to play and we’re not into the stupid events you keep inviting us to. Sorry to say it, but The Battle For Middle Earth is never going to happen.

We’re also really, really, absolutely not at all even remotely interested in cats as you are. Please for the love of God don’t share every single misspelled picture of cats who desperately want a ‘cheezbergr’ that finds its way into your newsfeed.

33743396

The only cat in the world I don’t hate.

As a general rule, people who are truly your friends think you’re pretty great. Instead of hounding them with undeniable proof that you’re actually far from it, you’re better off being more selective about the things you say and share and making sure your social media accounts reflect the best of you.

Great things only become great because someone took time to think, plan and care about them enough to perfect it before unleashing them on the public. It took Homer years to write The Iliad while he could have been out playing golf or something with his mates, but it was worth the effort considering we still read and discuss it 2000 years later. If Homer had merely logged onto Facebook and written ‘Imagine if Achilles killed Hector!? How pissed off would Patroclus be? LOL’ we probably would have scrolled right past it.

Granted, it only took two days for Martin Luther King Jr to write Normalcy- Never Again (more commonly known as the ‘I have a dream speech’) and change the lives of millions of people, but you sharing an anonymous quote about the power of sunshine isn’t really helping anyone. Especially considering it’s the 8000th quote you’ve shared that day. King’s speech was so powerful because the likes of it had never been heard before and have rarely been heard since. Quotes on social media are very much an example of the ‘less is more’ rule.

I can almost –almost- stomach the mindless sharing of every meal you’ve ever eaten in your life. It means you’re not one of the people who shares those “challenges to repost” images. You know the ones-the pictures about how your mum/dad/brother/sister/best friend’s flatmate’s sister is the best or, call me callous, the ‘how many likes for this kid’ putting flowers on a grave or amputee athletes etc.  I care about these people as much as anyone can care for a complete stranger but I detest the ‘let’s see who likes this’ caption, glaring at me like some kind of gauntlet being thrown down by the karma gods. Well F**k you, I’m not playing your game. I’m not reposting your chain letter. If I am cursed with bad luck for seven years or wake up dead tomorrow then so be it; I can’t say I wasn’t warned. But using pictures of sick kids and intimate family moments of people you’ve never met to get likes is far more despicable than me choosing not to join in.

I know for a fact that I’m guilty of almost everything I complain about, but I’m a pretty firm believer in the old “Do as I say, not as I do” thing. My friends already know I’m annoying, so I’m not too concerned about being blocked from their newsfeeds, but the rest of you have time to prove that you are wise and wonderful social media users whose every word is as powerful as Homer’s.

– by Blaire Gillies