Violence and Masculinity

I'm still here in this small town. Oregon is a magical state, and Ashland is a gem of a town. I've been working for the past few weeks, got a new job, at a domestic violence shelter. The shelter consists of women and children who have gone through some form of abusive situation and they are trying to escape the violence by temporarily moving to a confidential location. It's a home for the misplaced. A safe-haven for those who have experienced a recent trauma. The shelter gives them an opportunity to pick up the pieces of their lives so that they can survive. The house and the advocates are there saving many of these women from a life of isolation, torment, and constant struggle. Almost always the perpetrators or abusers are men.

There are moments where I honestly feel the word "masculine" is equivalent to the word "violent". I learned from the expert speaker, activist, and author on masculinity, Jackson Katz, that at a very young age men are taught to believe that being a MAN or masculine is being tough, a.k.a. being violent.

This is an excerpt from his book, The Macho Paradox, which talks about why some men hurt women and how all men can help.

The subject we're here to address, touches every single person in this room – whether you're aware of it or not. Gender violence – rape, battering, sexual abuse, sexual harassment – dramatically impacts millions of individuals and families in contemporary American society. In fact, it is one of the great, ongoing tragedies of our time.
Most people think violence against women is a women’s issue. And why wouldn’t they? Just about every woman in this society thinks about it every day. If they’re not getting harassed on the street, living in an abusive relationship, recovering from a rape, or in therapy to deal with the sexual abuse they suffered as children, they’re ordering their daily lives around the threat of men’s violence.

But it’s a mistake to call men’s violence a women’s issue. Take the subject of rape. Many people reflexively consider rape to be a women’s issue. But let’s take a closer look. What percentage of rape is committed by women? Is it 10%, 5 %? No. Less than one 1% of rape is committed by women. Let’s state this another way: over 99% of rape is perpetrated by men. Whether the victims are female or male, men are overwhelmingly the perpetrators. But we call it a women’s issue? Shouldn’t that tell us something?

A major premise of this book is that the long-running American tragedy of sexual and domestic violence – including rape, battering, sexual harassment, and the sexual exploitation of women and girls – is arguably more revealing about men than it is about women. Men, after all, are the ones committing the vast majority of the violence. Men are the ones doing most of the battering and almost all of the raping. Men are the ones paying the prostitutes (and killing them in video games), going to strip clubs, renting sexually degrading pornography, writing and performing misogynous music.

When men’s role in gender violence is discussed – in newspaper articles, sensational tv news coverage, or everyday conversation – the focus is typically on men as perpetrators, or potential perpetrators. These days, you don’t have to look far to see evidence of the pain and suffering these men cause. But it’s rare to find any in-depth discussion about the culture that’s producing these violent men. It’s almost like the perpetrators are strange aliens who landed here from another planet. It’s rarer still to hear thoughtful discussions about the ways that our culture defines “manhood,” and how that definition might be linked to the endless string of stories about husbands killing wives, or groups of young men raping girls (and sometimes videotaping the rape) that we hear about on a regular basis.

Why isn’t there more conversation about the underlying social factors that contribute to the pandemic of violence against women? Why aren’t men’s attitudes and behaviors toward women the focus of more critical scrutiny and coordinated action? In the early 21st century, the 24/7 news cycle brings us a steady stream of gender violence tragedies: serial killers on the loose, men abducting young girls, domestic violence homicides, periodic sexual abuse scandals in powerful institutions like the Catholic Church and the Air Force Academy. You can barely turn on the news these days without coming across another gruesome sex crime – whether it’s a group of boys gang-raping a girl in a middle school bathroom, or a young pregnant mother who turns up missing and a few days later her husband emerges as the primary suspect.
Isn’t it about time we had a national conversation about the male causes of this violence, instead of endlessly lingering on its consequences in the lives of women? Thanks to the U. S. battered women’s and rape crisis movements, it is no longer taboo to discuss women’s experience of sexual and domestic violence. This is a significant achievement. To an unprecedented extent, American women today expect to be supported -- not condemned -- when they disclose what men have done to them (unless the man is popular, wealthy or well-connected, in which case all bets are off.)

This is all to the good. Victims of violence and abuse – whether they’re women or men -- should be heard and respected. Their needs come first. But let’s not mistake concern for victims with the political will to change the conditions that led to their victimization in the first place. On talk shows, in brutally honest memoirs, at Take Back the Night rallies, and even in celebrity interviews, our society now grants many women the platform to discuss the sexual abuse and mistreatment that have sadly been a part of women’s lives here and around the world for millennia. But when was the last time you heard someone in public or private life talk about violence against women in a way that went beyond the standard victim fixation and put a sustained spotlight on men – either as perpetrators or bystanders? It is one thing to focus on the “against women” part of the phrase. But someone’s responsible for doing it, and (almost) everyone knows that it’s overwhelmingly men. Why aren’t people talking about this? Is it realistic to talk about preventing violence against women if no one even wants to say out loud who’s responsible for it?

For the past two decades I’ve been part of a growing movement of men, in North America and around the world, whose aim is to reduce violence against women by focusing on those aspects of male culture – especially male peer culture -- that provide active or tacit support for some men’s abusive behavior. This movement is racially and ethnically diverse, and it brings together men from both privileged and poor communities, and everyone in between. This is challenging work on many levels, and no one should expect rapid results. For example, there is no way to gloss over some of the race, class and sexual orientation divisions between and among the men ourselves. It is also true that it takes time to change social norms that are so deeply rooted in structures of gender and power. Even so, there is room for optimism. We’ve had our successes: There are arguably more men today who are actively confronting violence against women than at any time in human history.

Make no mistake. Women blazed the trail that we are riding down. Men are in the position to do this work precisely because of the great leadership of women. The battered women’s and rape crisis movements and their allies in local, state, and federal government have accomplished a phenomenal amount over the past generation. Public awareness about violence against women is at an all-time high. The level of services available today for female victims and survivors of men’s violence is – while not yet adequate – nonetheless historically unprecedented.

But one area where our society still has a very long way to go is in preventing perpetration. We continue to produce in the United States hundreds of thousands of physically and emotionally abusive -- and sexually dangerous -- boys and men each year. Millions more men participate in sexist behaviors on a continuum that ranges from mildly objectifying women to literally enslaving them in human trafficking syndicates. We can provide services to the female victims of these men until the cows come home. We can toughen enforcement of rape, domestic violence, and stalking laws, arrest and incarcerate even more men than we do currently. But this is all reactive and after the fact. It is essentially an admission of failure.

What I am proposing in this book is that we adopt a much more ambitious approach. If we are going to bring down the rates of violence against women dramatically – not just at the margins – we will need a far-reaching cultural revolution. At its heart this revolution must be about changing the sexist social norms in male culture, from the elementary school playground to the common room in retirement communities – and every locker room, pool hall and board room in between. For us to have any hope of achieving historic reductions in incidents of violence against women, at a minimum we will need to dream big and act bold. It almost goes without saying that we will need the help of a lot more men -- at all levels of power and influence – than are currently involved. Obviously we have our work cut out for us. As a measure of just how far we have to go, consider that in spite of the misogyny and sexist brutality all around us, millions of non-violent men today fail to see gender violence as their issue. “I’m a good guy,” they will say. “This isn’t my problem.”

Hell in a handbasket

(imgs from Yacht, http://www.flickr.com/photos/yacht/3757289025/in/photostream/)

Portland! City of Scene Queens..

The 1940's term Hipster was referred to aficionados of modern jazz who adopted certain lifestyles including the following: manner of dress, slang terminology, use of drugs, relaxed attitude, sarcastic humor, self-imposed poverty, and relaxed sexual codes. Early hipsters were generally white youths adopting many of the ways of urban blacks of the time, but later hipsters often copied the early ones without knowing the origins of the culture.

Elise Thompson, an editor for the LA blog LAist argues that "people who came of age in the 70s and 80s punk rock movement seem to universally hate 'hipsters'", which she defines as people wearing "expensive 'alternative' fashion", going to the "latest, coolest, hippest bar...and listening to the latest, coolest, hippest band." Thompson argues that hipsters "... don't seem to subscribe to any particular philosophy... or ...particular genre of music." Instead, she argues that they are "soldiers of fortune of style" who take up whatever is popular and in style, "appropriating the style" of past counter cultural movements such as punk, while "discarding everything that the style stood for."

I. HIPSTER - a broad term for a "hip" person with non-individuality and who needs to be seen.

A. SCENESTERS - Indy Fashionists, Sophisticates, that appreciate unconventional art forms.

FASHION: Seaplane Dress, tight red shirt, Black rim Glasses, Fuckin dumb hat, Designer Jeans, Belt shoes
MUSIC: The Blow, Plants, Panther, Shaky Hands, Yacht, E*Rock, Copy
HANGOUTS: Holocene, Aalto Lounge, Ron Toms, Tiga Bar
RESTAURANTS: Juniors, Tin Shed
BOOK: Breakfast of Champions, Our band could be your life
QUOTE: "Don't You know"
TV SHOW: Sex in the City, The WIre, Dexter
FOOD: Pho'
DRINK: Mohito

B. BARISTA/FOLKSTERS - Coffee/Laptop Nerds that live at Stumptown ALL FUCKIN DAY

FASHION: Beard, Unkept hair, button down western shirt, non-blue blue jeans that are tattered, Old Maid Dresses and no brazier, cowboy boots or loafers...sometimes s pair of tattered converse
MUSIC: Horse Feathers, Lock lomond, Nick Jaina, Laura Gibson, Shaky Hands
HANGOUTS: Stumptown and Fresh Pot
RESTAURANTS: Some Vegan Bullshit Restaurant
BOOK: Annie
QUOTE: Shhhh i am trying to look cool on my Macintosh laptop
TV SHOW: PBS, The Arts Channel, Bob Ross
FOOD: Vegan Crap
DRINK: Triple shot Expresso

C. BIKE MESSENGERS - Stumptown hangers with Trendy One Fixed gear Bikes that hate any auto drivers because they are ineerly jealous they cant drive a stick.

FASHION: Lil' bike hat, tight turtleneck shirt, shoulder bag with flare, cutofft/rolled up tight slacks, bike shoes that click when they try to "walk"
MUSIC: Talkdemonic, Please Step Out of the Vehicle, Alan Singley
HANGOUTS: Stumptown, Aalto Lounge, Stumptown and Stumptown
RESTAURANTS: Delta Cafe, Vegonapolis
BOOK: The one where Lee Armstrong should of died
QUOTE: Fuck you jerk you're not supposed to drive your car on the main roads because my gear is fixed and i cant stop in time when you stop at a red light.
TV SHOW: Amazing Race
FOOD: Veggie Burgers and energy bar
DRINK: Triple Shot Expresso

D. MODSTERS - Stupid fucks with cocky attitudes and no clue about anything but shopping for clothes and cocaine

FASHION: Died black or bleach fakeass blonde hair, huge sunglasses, White hat, Jean Jacket or a smelly dead animal fur coat, extremely tight leather or plaid pants to show off their small junk, unnecessary white or black tie, black shiny pointy boots
MUSIC: Nice Boys, Clorox Girls, Dandy Warhols
HANGOUTS: Tube, Dunes, Red Light, Clackamas Mall, Kellys Olympian
RESTAURANTS: Montage, Denny's, Mcdonalds
BOOK: None because they can't read
QUOTE: What does this reverb pedal do????
TV SHOW: American Idol, Desperate Housewives
FOOD: Cocaine, Vicodin
DRINK: Cocaine, Pabst, Cocaine

E. ROCKERS - Almost Modsters but actually know how to pluck a guitar

FASHION: Beards and more beards, long hair, ripped blue jeans, Shit Kickers
MUSIC: The Planet The, Nice Nice, Quasi, LKN, Red Fang
HANGOUTS: Matador, Berbatis Pan, Tube, Shanghai Tunnel
RESTAURANTS: Miss Delta Cafe, Russel St BBQ
BOOK: Please Kill Me, The Dirt-Motley Crue
QUOTE: Pass the Pabst bro
TV SHOW: Greys Anatomy, Days of our lives
FOOD: Grease and Ribs
DRINK: Bourbon Neat, Pabst, Tecate

F. HIP-HOPSTERS - Underground hip-hop dwellers waiting for the next chill ass beat to drop.

FASHION: Crooked Trucker Hat, Old school Nike high tops, Baggy pants, Dark Rimmed Glasses, Baseball shirts
MUSIC: DJ Tan't, Brokaw, Sleepyhead, A.E.D, Omega Watts, Life Savas
HANGOUTS: Holocene, Nightlight, Tiger Bar, Roseland
RESTAURANTS: Miss Delta
BOOK: Turntable Lab 101
QUOTE: yeah dawg that track was tight homey
TV SHOW: 24, Lost, Battlstar Galactica
FOOD: Burger and fries, fried chicken
DRINK: Gin and Tonic, Miller High Life

G. GOTHS - Tattoed black haired disgruntles that wear eyeliner and makeup to cover up their acne and pock marks.

FASHION: Black Hair, Black Eyeliner, Black Tattoos, Black lipstick, Black Shirt, Black Pants, Black shoes, Lots of Chains
MUSIC: Stabbing Westward, Cure, NIN, Marylin Manson
HANGOUTS: None in Portland
RESTAURANTS: Hubers
BOOK: Interview with the Vampire, Death: The High Cost of Living
QUOTE: It cant rain all the time
TV SHOW: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
FOOD: Spaghetti
DRINK: Meth, Yagger and redbull

H. NORMSTER - Actual musicians and artists without the fashion getup.

FASHION: Normal looking
MUSIC: Quiet Countries, ((( in mono ))), Wilding, Paper Uppercuts
HANGOUTS: Beulahland, The Standard, Nightlight
RESTAURANTS: Holmans, Ole Ole
BOOK: Blade Runner, Breakfast of Champions
QUOTE: What the hell is that fucker wearing??
TV SHOW: Battlestar Gallactica, Lost, Kings, Family Guy
FOOD: BarbeQ Ribs, Mac n' Cheese
DRINK: Whiskey & Coke, Budweiser

II. DOUCHEBAG - A hipsters worst enemy. A waste of a human. Usually wearing a white hat, Polo shirt with extended collar, silver necklace and spiked hair. (website coming soon)

A. TOOLS- Goofy ass lookin shitheads that are wasting space and breathing my air.

LOOK: Spiked hair, White Polo shirt or unbuttoned striped longsleeve with sleeves rolled up, Chain necklaces, designer jeans and white sneakers
MUSIC: Top 40 or Techno shit
HANGOUTS: Barracuda, Dirty
RESTAURANTS: Olive Garden, Dennys, McDonalds
BOOK: Books are gay duuude
QUOTE: pussy pussy pussy pussy??
TV SHOW: Americas Top Model, American Idol
FOOD: Big Mac, Chicken Burrito
DRINK: Martini's, or Bud

A. MEATHEADS/GUIDOS - Muscle bound pieces of shit beefcakes that have only 3 things on their mind...Club Pussy, Steroids and themselves

LOOK: Spiked hair, Tanktops, Gold Chain necklaces, shorts or stretch jeans to compinsate for their oversized beefcake legs
MUSIC: Creed, Limp Biskit, POD
HANGOUTS: Barracuda, Dantes
RESTAURANTS: Arbys and gym food
BOOK: Abs of steele
QUOTE: I dont give a fuck dude??
TV SHOW: The Workout channel
FOOD: Energy Shake, bananas and steroids
DRINK: Tons of beer dude

B. WHIGGERS/CHAVS - White Suburbanite fucktards wanting to be Bruthas.

LOOK: White Crooked Hat, Puberty mustache, Hoody that is 5 sizes too big, baggy ass pants that are tied by a belt at their knees
MUSIC: Lil' John, Lil' Wayne or anything with Lil' in the front
HANGOUTS: Fx Dance Club, Xone
RESTAURANTS: KFC, Taco Bell
BOOK: How to be black
QUOTE: kno' wat em sain bro
TV SHOW: Dog Pound the Snoop Dog Show
FOOD: Fried Chicken, Arby-Q
DRINK: Brass Monkeys

C. YUPPIES - Wealthy piles of shit who have cheated on their ugly wives or have stabbed their best friends in the back in order to reach "the top"

LOOK: Spiked hair, Collar shirts with tie, Black Slacks or an entire business suite, Black loafers
MUSIC: Any shitty music for Z-100 or Techno
HANGOUTS: Any bar in the Pearl District
RESTAURANTS: Henrys
BOOK: Forbes Magazine
QUOTE: I think george Bush was the best President of our time...don't you agree buffy...
TV SHOW: CNN Stock market channel (whatever fucking channel that is)
FOOD: Caviar, Lobster
DRINK: Aged Wine or Budweiser

D. REDNECKS - Heavily armed conservative white racist illiterate wife beaters usually sportin a Mullet.

LOOK: Mullet, Stash, trucker Hat, wifebeater tank top, torn blue jeans, no shoes or socks
MUSIC: John Cougar Melancamp, Billy ray Cyrus
HANGOUTS: Outhouse and Walmart
RESTAURANTS: Cant Afford em
BOOK: What?
QUOTE: Hey woman get over here and skin this squirl for dinner
TV SHOW: All My Children, Who wants to be a millionare
FOOD: Hotdogs and road kill
DRINK: Busch and Maddog

(portlandhipster.com)

life and the sort

Here I am, Ashland, Oregon.
The town I grew up in.
Being back here means many things..

Nostalgia (old pictures, letters, friends) - been finding relics from my past and it's quite entertaining. I'm also realizing Ive come a long way, and maybe I didn't become who I thought I'd be, but just an older, more experienced version of that little confused girl.
I've reconnected with a close friend, we've been having a blast together, and it's kinda crazy - like we have gone right back to where we left off in middle school.

My parents live here. Ive been staying with my mom in this beautiful house by the creek. I like it but I must admit i feel rather useless. Living with my mom. No job. Not too many friends - my social life in Ashland is kind of a joke. There's not much goin on in this town.. at least not much I'm interested in.

I am lookin for new projects. My mom is an artist/art teacher so I plan on helping her paint a mural and do splatterpaint in her classroom. Also I wanna start making mosaics (mirrors and glass on collage, molded onto some object). I wanna learn how to do webdesign and start a website. I want to apply to intern at BITCH magazine in Portland.

I want to return to Portland but it's tough. I need money. a job. a place to live. Portland has the second highest unemployment rate in the country. and everyone with a degree seems to be moving there and in search of a job. so im like WTF am i gunna do!?

otherwise, i feel like im growing and learning. prague was a great experience, and now i must figure out a new path to follow. along the road opening up new doors..new opportunities are on the horizon and that is what excites me most.

illness

I've been feeling sick lately. Physically ill in this "I think I'm gonna vomit. Wait, no.." kinda way. It's been going on for maybe 4 or 5 days now. I've been restless yet sleeping almost half of every day. I need naps now after work.

Recently, I can't stand being awake. I only wake up because I have to go to work. And even that has been difficult. I want to live in my dreams, not my reality. I want to close my eyes and forget about my pain and suffering... shove it back down instead of really letting it take me.

One of my dear students that I am close to gave me her thoughts today. She is so perceptive, I love hearing her advice or any input she has. It's almost as though I'm her student sometimes :) ...She told me she thinks that this illness is not a flu, but a psychological illness that I have created for myself. In order to escape my stress and pain, I can put the blame on feeling sick. Yet I literally feel sick, and maybe she is right, it is because of my psychological sickness.

It's not that I'm a mental case or have some mental disease. At least I don't think I do. I'm just dealing with a sudden surge of emotional stress and worries and depression.

I recently got out of a very intense relationship with a man that I loved very much. I don't want to get into details, but it didn't work out because of personal differences. At the time that we split, I felt the decision was the right one. Since then I have had some doubts and questions of whether it was what I wanted or just what I was told to want or what I thought I wanted. It's all very confusing. Anyways, it happened and he didn't do much/anything to stop it, so there you go.

The same day we split I met someone very fun and interesting for me. He was also interested in me, and we spent a lot of time together. It was like a sign from above, leave your worries behind and just move on, there's plenty of fish in the sea, and they may even treat you better. Yeah. But then after a week or two went by it hit all at once, I never even took the time to treat myself emotionally after this big change. I just went with it and ignored what common sense to take care of my insides. I got really sad and realized that I wasn't over my ex. Here is this new great guy and I haven't even figured out the last one. I haven't even figured out why I keep getting involved and why I can't stand to be alone with myself.

Now we are going on a trip. One I wanted and asked for and was very pleased to be offered. I'm going on an adventure.
But I'm sick to my stomach with worries, stress, sadness, confusion, pain.
I've needed this vacation for a long time now, I deserve it. I have been working all through my twenties with no breaks. No time for me. No time to figure me out. Here I am in a foreign country working all the time and getting sick to my stomach because I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Not with men, not with my future, my 'career', not with ME. I don't know me anymore and it hurts.
So maybe I'm sick because I ate a rotten raspberry, or maybe because I'm paranoid about risking my life/putting it in someone elses hands, or maybe it's because I'm sick of torturing myself by being this person. It's all very dark and too deep for me to even understand.
I guess a therapist would help.
Or maybe I should just go back to sleep.
I want this feeling in my gut to go away, but I just don't know how to make it happen.

Self Reflection

Some people will spend their whole lives trying to find stability. The ultimate goal is to avoid all possible changes that may disrupt their regular, comfortable lives.

I, however, have got into a pattern of disrupting and changing any stability in my life. Maybe as a way to test it (will it be here tomorrow if I poke at it a bit or neglect it?) and show that all things are not fixed, they are truly mutable.
Alteration, static, chaos even. I seem to be lost in my own chaotic magnetism.
Yet, it wouldn't seem so from an outside perspective.
Once you get inside your perception may shift. Here I am, a young woman - lost in a foreign country, and dealing with the outcomes of my own frantic decision-making - yet I'm acting as though everything is OK.

Last night a close girl friend of mine came over for tea. We hadn't had a real conversation in weeks, and we are both having some gemini insanity in our lives, so it was time to vent.
It was only when we sat together face-to-face that we were able to confront the negative realities that we have created for ourselves. We aren't satisfied with our lives, we want more - where is the creative energy that we know exists somewhere inside of us? What has happened to our drive, our youthfulness?
We are getting older. We are bored of the same things. We no longer want to get drunk with our friends and talk about nothing.
Where is the art, the music, the community, the action??
Confusion. Totally lost. It's not here. Or is it?

When I first moved to Prague I was in a dream-like state. Everything was new (well old actually), interesting. The culture was one I hadn't experienced before so I took it in with wide eyes. I was excited for what this city could offer me and what I could give it back in return.
I wasn't sure I wanted to get stuck here (I had plans to go to Spain for some time and learn Spanish), but I thought I could at least try it for a year and see how it goes.

Fast forward nine months later, here I am, with some memorable experiences under my belt, uninspired, and to be frank, bitter as sin.

I come from a family of people that love to complain. I have, regretfully, picked up this trait and have carried it with me throughout my life. Isn't it ever enough, some ask? No. Nothing is ever enough. Satisfaction is not guaranteed and there will always be problems.

What I realize from this is that I need a complete attitude makeover. This is not some small task, I have two decades of evil patterns to reverse. So now the question is HOW?

We always hear: Fight or flight.

Run away from Prague? No, I will never get away from MYSELF.

So fight? But who and in what way? I could fight the man, that always made me feel good - working for the underdog, the ones who always get left in the gutter.
But I did my fair share of social activism and I got tired of it, I still care but I need something else.
I need ideas/inspiration, a loving community (without the high school drama and fake friendships and drug dependencies), independent and interdependent creativity, some job/work that makes me not hate my life!

I want freedom to choose what I do and not have someone breathing down my neck (boss, parent, controlling spouse, etc) but in return I do not want to breathe down anyone else's neck.

This is my task. I am on a mission and it's not the Mormon kind.

USA Number One!!

What the fuck is up with this?!
First off, this sign makes absolutely NO SENSE whatsoever.

Why would a shop called Euro Nails be using an American style??
I do not have an answer to this question.
It is absurd, and something I have been noticing a lot in my short time (around 9 months) living in the Czech Republic.

They like to call things "American", and the only thing that I can see that makes it American is the fact that there are the colors of the American flag present and maybe some stripes/stars apparent somewhere (like in this sign, with the stars in the big "E" for EURO. jeez).

A couple weekends ago I visited a small Czech city called Podebrady, and in the center there was an "American" Pizza cart. As far as I could tell, the pizza was Czech. And what the hell is American style pizza anyways? As an American I would really like to know what "American style" means.

And also, why people would choose this as a way to make business. Are Czech people drawn to anything that says America on it? I mean, yeah, sometimes I see some douchebag on the street wearing a T-shirt with an American flag staring me in the face. But I figured they are just some pathetic tourist, showing some pride.

But after just one trip to Prague's crackhead-cheap second hand shop, Megasekac, I realized that Czech people have a shitload of American-flag ridden clothing items. Boxer shorts, Baby T's, Hoodies and more! Get yer American paraphanelia today at the 30 krown shop!!

In a country that has been in Communist depression for 40 years, they have done a shitload of turn-around in the last 20 years since the Velvet Revolution. And yes, they are one of the USA's most loyal allies - even going so far as offering up Czech land for an American-owned military Radar.

But why show such pride for a country that has lost most of it's own pride in the last 8 years (George Bush's presidency, need I say more)?

I am stumped.
So WTF - why don't y'all show yer Czech pride in the U.S.A. ??!!!
Oh yeah, because We're #1! We're #1!
[jus' kidding! i aint got no american pride]

Paris Hilton Clown

Halloween is not a widely accepted holiday in the Czech Republic. So you can imagine the looks of horror I was getting from the babickas (Czech word for grandma) and other tram-riders when I got on dressed up as a slutty clown.

Granted, it was the weekend before the actual Halloween, but the look on their faces was like "go away, freak".
(Reminiscent of the time Sarka and I covered ourselves in bloody zombie gear for Prague's first Zombie Walk, and an old woman on the tram told us to get away from her.)

Here I posted a picture of me before I made out with this severed head.

Even with the Czechs claiming no interest in this "American holiday", with the recent introduction of mainstream capitalism/westernization setting the standards for the new generation of Czech teenagers, they are getting in on the fun too.

On the actual night of Halloween I found myself drunk and a bit lost with some friends - a group of young Czech teens were lost by us also, and they ended up going to the same party as us. I was a bit embarrassed because one of the dudes had similar makeup on as me, we both slightly resembled the Crow [you know, creepy superhero-esque quasi goth movie from the early 90s], though he pulled it off better than me.

The expat community in Prague most definitely celebrated, and there were parties all over the city for Halloween. Me and my friends saw the band Blaq Mummy, who only seem to perform on Halloween and play horror rock or something like that.

At the end of the show the Dead Bride vocalist threw her dead rose bouquet for some lucky single zombie out there - and it landed, perfectly, in my grrrl Mary Black's tits.
I think I should make a whole blog entry about her breasticles, because they seem to be growing, and this strange miracle needs to be logged.
It's research people.

Why women let men fuck them over

I'm starting a post that I will continually go back to and update about why women allow men to fuck them over. It's mostly a reference to the ways that society teaches women that their self-worth is found through their appeal to men and under the rules of male-dominated institutions.

The list:

Her body is no temple

• Women's bodies are on display everywhere. Our bodies are not only used for artistic purposes either. They are here to advertise, well, absolutely everything and anything. It's the process called objectification. Men are taught to become completely paralyzed by the mere thought, let alone image, of a woman's breast. We can thank playboy and other pornographic media forms for the hyper-sexualization and obsession with the naked female form. It's gotten to the point where men will pay ungodly amounts for an hour alone with some disenfranchised and highly exploited sex worker.
  

Trophyism

• Constant exposure to the billions of media depictions of these seemingly "perfect" unrealistic women's bodies has a nasty effect. Women have learned to hate their "imperfect" bodies, while men have learned that they are not a real man unless they can find and conquer this "perfect" looking woman. Why do you think you always see beautiful women with dog-ugly men? It's not just because of his money. She also finds some false pleasure from being his "trophy".

We are afraid of being alone

• In all honesty, as a woman, I am completely scared of the thought let alone reality that I could be alone. Not just someday. I mean, for like a day or two. While men are taught to be independent, strong and brave - women are taught to be dependent, clingy, needy and pathetically desparate to win the affection of some powerful man.
  

• What about girl power? Yeah, well, it is a bullshit ploy to make you think the media isn't all anti-woman. But really, it mostly is, even that spice girl stuff was complete sexist bullshit. A scam. A sexist dirty scam to trick young girls into some false ally-ship with other girls through shitty pop music and cutesy nicknames. Ooh, I'm baby spice. No you're scary spice. And I was the perfect age when this shit was blowing up, and I was like, "whats this bullshit?" Everyone knows these 30 year old women in short skirts are stealing our money and not bringing girls any closer together, nevertheless giving us a sense of independence, freedom or power.
  

Don't call me what?!

When I was a fourteen year old freshman in High School my Literature teacher, Mr. Cornelius, started calling the only non-white person in my class the "Persian playboy". The kid thought it was cute, and would retain a huge grin when Mr. Cornelius would call on him using the name "Persian playboy" on a daily basis, for the entire year. It was a compliment to him, because the kid would always try to act like a ladies man. Me and the other girls all thought he was a little shrimp and a total pathetic creep.

But Mr. Cornelius loved pumping up this kids ego, even though he never seemed to know the answer to the question, or do his homework. Looking back, I had this class with the "Persian playboy" for a year, and to this day I do not know his real name.

Even as a young teenager, I was disgusted by the mere mention of this nickname, and felt it to be both racist and sexist. Though at the time I had no idea how racism or sexism really worked, but in my head I knew giving this kid this label would fuck him up for life, and that it had an effect on the people around him, the way they perceived him. Fuck, it still resonates with me ten years later.

After the first month of class with Mr. Cornelius, he started to become much more comfortable with speaking openly with us and it became clear he was in complete control of this class.
I had mixed feelings about him, part of me was very intrigued by his asshole-demeanor, the other half completely despised this evil evil man.

It became clear which half I was to resonate with, when one day Mr. Cornelius asked me if I knew what a JAP was, in front of the entire attentive classroom.

I hate being put on the spot, and I had no idea, but I guessed, "I don't know. A japanese person?"
He responded, "Well.. no. It stands for Jewish American Princess. Typically a young spoiled Jewish girl from a wealthy family. You're Jewish and from L.A., so JAP is your new nickname."

And from then on, I had absolutely no choice but to allow Mr. Cornelius, the most controlling and intimidating instructor I have EVER had in my life, to call me "JAP" or "Jewish American Princess" (if he was feeling especially wordy), every fucking day.

I was young. Confused. Didn't know yet how to respond. I tolerated it, and at first even got some sense of self-worth from this title. I felt like he liked me and the other students were jealous that they didn't have a nickname.

But after some time I realized that it was just me, the JAP, and the Persian Playboy. He was putting me in the "other" category with this little douchebag. I despised this.

We were the only "others" in the class. We weren't WASPs. So in a way, I started to feel some connection to this young wannabe-player, even though I was a secret uber-feminist, I knew that we both would always be labeled as something other than normal in this insanely critical American society.

I am Jewish. I am female. I am from Los Angeles and an upper-middle class family.
I am automatically shoved into a category and stereotyped based upon this labeled group.
There was no escaping this reality of my religion, ethnicity, gender, and class standing identities and they consumed me and all of my life experiences.

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So how does the rest of society perceive this term??

JAP: Either a derogatory term referring to Japanese people or a modernly used acronym for a "Jewish American Princess".

	Urbandictionary.com describes a JAP as: A Jewish girl who is incredibly spoiled in every way, and gets whatever she wants, whenever she wants. Usually out and about. She knows the latest trends and is always up to date on things going on around her.

Or this definition even has precise details of a JAP's accessories:

• A Jewish American Princess (JAP) owns: Hardtail and/or Juicy sweatpants, UGGs, a black puffy North Face, many cut sweatshirts, 2ct diamond earings, a Michele Watch, many long beaded necklaces, a Longchamp bag to carry books in, a Herves bag to carry laptop, a Louis key wallet for keys to their X5, a black RAZR, many Juicy zip-ups, Burberry scarves (NOT THE ORIGINAL COLORS!) , David Yurman jewelery. Dior or Chanel or Gucci sunglasses, 575 jeans, Rock & Republics, Seven for All Mankind denim (with Swarovski crystals), Citizens of Humanity jeans.

JAPs come in male form too! wow:

• Jewish American Prince, can also be used for males. These male japs reside in the upper-middle class suburbs of philadelphia. They think they are city people, simply because they eat cheesesteaks and are sports fans. Their families flaunt their pretty much non-existant wealth by leasing expensive Lexus SUV's while telling the rest of the synagogue that they bought it.

How about a JAP joke? :

• Question: What do JAPs and tampons have in common ?

• Answer: They're both stuck up cunts.