if men could menstruate

A white minority of the world has spent centuries conning us into thinking that a white skin makes people superior-- even though the only thing it really does is make them more subject to ultraviolet rays and to wrinkles. Male human beings have built whole cultures around the idea that penis-envy is "natural" to women-- though having such an unprotected sex organ might be said to make men vulnerable, and the power to give birth makes womb-envy at least as logical.

In short, the characteristics of the powerful, whatever they may be, are thought to be better than the characteristics of the powerless-- and logic has nothing to do with it.

What would happen, for instance, if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate and women could not?

The answer is clear-- menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event:
Men would brag about how long and how much.

Boys would mark the onset of menses, the longed-for proof of manhood, with religious ritual and stag parties.

Congress would fund a National Institute of Dysmenorrhea to help stamp out monthly discomforts.

Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. (Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of commercial brands such as John Wayne Tampons, Muhammad Ali's Rope-a-dope Pads, Joe Namath Jock Shields-- "For Those Light Bachelor Days," and Robert "Barretta" Blake Maxi-Pads.)

Military men, right-wing politicians, and religious fundamentalists would cite menstruation ("menstruation") as proof that only men could serve in the Army ("you have to give blood to take blood"), occupy a political office ("can women be aggressive without that stead-fast cycle governed by the planet Mars?"), be priests and ministers ("how could a woman give her blood for our sins"), or rabbis ("without the monthly loss of impurities, women remain unclean").

Male radicals, left-wing politicians, and mystics, however, would insist that women are equal, just different; and that any woman could enter their ranks if only she were willing to self-inflict a major wound every month ("you must give blood for the revolution"), recognize the preeminence of menstrual issues, or subordinate her self to all men in their Cycle of Enlightenment.

Street guys would brag ("I'm a three-pad man") or answer praise from a buddy ("Man, you're lookin' good!) by giving high fives and saying, "Yeah, man, I'm on the rag!"

TV shows would treat the subject at length. ("Happy Days": Richie and Potsie try to convince Fonzie that he is still "The Fonz," though he has missed two periods in a row." So would newspapers. (SHARK SCARE THREATENS MENSTRUATING MEN. JUDGE CITES MONTHLY STRESS IN PARDONING RAPIST.) And movies. (Newman and Redford in "Blood Brothers"!)

Men would convince women that intercourse was more pleasurable at "that time of the month." Lesbians would be said to fear blood and therefore life itself-- thought probably only because they needed a good menstruating man.

Of course, male intellectuals would offer the most moral and logical arguments. How could a woman master any discipline that demanded a sense of time, space, mathematics, or measurement, for instance, without that in-built gift for measuring the cycles of the moon and planets-- and thus for measuring anything at all? In the rarefied fields of philosophy and religion, could women compensate for missing the rhythm of the universe? Or for their lack of symbolic death-and-resurrection every month?

Liberal males in every field would try to be kind: the fact that "these people" have no gift for measuring life or connecting to the universe, the liberals would explain, should be punishment enough.

And how would women be trained to react? One can imagine traditional women agreeing to all these arguments with a staunch and smiling masochism. ("The ERA would force housewives to wound themselves ever month": Phyllis Schlafly. "Your husband's blood is as sacred as that of Jesus-- and so sexy, too!": Marabel Morgan.) Reformers and Queen Bees would try to imitate men, and PRETEND to have a monthly cycle. All feminists would explain endlessly that men, too, needed to be liberated from the false idea of Martian aggressiveness, just women needed to escape the bonds of menses-envy. Radical feminists would add that the oppression of the non-menstrual was the pattern for all other oppressions. ("Vampires were our first freedom fighter!") Cultural feminists would develop a bloodless imagery in art and literature. Socialist feminists would insist that only under capitalism would men be able to monopolize menstrual blood. ... In fact, if men could menstruate, the power justifications could probably go on forever.

If we let them.

- Gloria Steinem (1978)

kraker 330

It is so that time again. ALL of my boxes are unpacked-- to my past roommates, this is a HUGE accomplishment. I unpacked my last box for the 2009-2010 school year in May. What does this say about my personality? That I am afraid of committment? That I am lazy? OR that there really isn't a place for everything? None of the above.

The apartment is fantastic. It's a nice place with A/C and a dishwasher<- woah. I have an enormous closet and a brand new desk full of fresh paper and unsharpened pencils. It's going to be a good year.

Everything seems bittersweet. I am ready for a Grad program and NEW experiences. I will seriously miss all of the friendships that I have made at Hope College, but a new journey waits. Sometimes I think I am going to give up everything I have worked/paid for and just travel around the world and eat good food. We will see ;) I will miss the liberal arts school. I love learning. I am working to be a professional musician now, but my calling could change in five years. Sometimes I am called to be a minister- other times, to be a doctor or writer. The thing is... I can do whatever I want. I am 20, almost 21, years old! Two decades in one place is just like reading the back of a really big book.

To Kraker 330,
It will be a great 9/10 months. I will love you well and probably make a ding in one of your walls. You will conclude my experiences at Hope, BUT you will also hold many parties, late night conversations, foof jumpings, tears, giggles, delicious meals, and assignments. I hope you're up for the job.

Happy first week of classes.

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living life.

It has been a CRAZY week. Hope College is almost back in full-swing. I am eager to start my new classes, lose an average of two hours of sleep every night, have mountains of homework waiting for tired mind, and everything else.... Seriously, I love college.

I have always loved school. Every year I wake up at least two hours before my alarm waiting for that moment where I can grab my backpack and leave. I come with new pencils, paper, and my planner ready for scheduling. This year will not be an exception. I had three weeks off of class and thought that break was too much to handle. I enjoy learning and meeting new people. Yes, I will still procrastinate and stay up too late the night before an assignment is due, but why wouldn't I do so? I work well under pressure :) HELLO! I am a performance major.

Each year brings new challenges, hope, dreams, and ideas. For the past three years I have explained to people my plans for the future. I kept a chant of 'I am doing this for me,' and 'my life will start after college.' The thing is-- I AM LIVING LIFE RIGHT NOW! :D :D :D SO! As this new realization hits me, I realized that I need to start listening to my inner voice and cater to my needs. It's going to be great.

New resolution for the 2010-2011 school year:

I am going to live life to the fullest!
Starting with trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone once again as a senior in college. I watched/helped freshmen move in all day yesterday and realized that I will never move into a Hope College owned property again. Chances are that I will never sleep on a bunk bed again OR see most of these people on a regular basis. It's time to live it up. Mazel tov! Welcome to Hope College, baby!

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peace.

A lot has been running through my mind lately. I usually have one or two HUGE questions ripping through my heart at a time. I wish I had all of the answers to help the people in this world, but I don't. I am constantly reminded of the fact that we are all brothers and sisters sharing one Earth. The older I get the more I see the separation of people. What we really need to realize is that everyone must help! We need to find a balance. We need to stop killing and all of this hatred. I don't know how the human population came to the conclusion that it's normal to build barriers of hatred.

This picture, which was found on google, represents our world. It is diverse in the sense that it combines many colors. Each tone works together to create a beautiful artwork. There are no perfect lines-- aka life. The colors blend together and co-exist. What an amazing experiences a pair of eyes can get after discovering the curves and direction of each line. It is truly fascinating.

I hope that someday people stop dehumanizing one another. We have to realize that every person has a family and a heart. We need to lose words like discrimination and segregation from our vocabulary. Each person is beautiful and has a lot to contribute to the needs of society. We need to stop judging and assuming that we know everything... Just give it all to God.

I think, or at least I pray, that everyone believes in peace and life.

<3

We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.

-1 John 4:19-20

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a day at the beach.

It's the summer of 2010 and the temperatures have soared to the hottest days that we have seen in a long time. It will definitely not be a summer to forget! Due to the current situation of sweltering heat, citizens have swarmed to cooler areas, the beach. The over-populated beaches have lead to overcrowding, too much noise, and unpleasing sights.

The Michigan beaches are loaded with a bunch of noisy quacks :) When the daily temperatures start to rise about the eighties, and sometimes even the seventies, people tend to haul out their bathing suits and jump in their wagons to the squeaky sand on Lake Michigan. Car trunks are filled with floatation devices and noodles, coolers are filled with pop, chips, and fruit, and umbrellas are tucked neatly between a set of lawn chairs. Before even thinking of laying down the prized, beach possessions, the owners cannot forget the brightly colored towels that either have an intricate pattern to describe their personality or some super-cool cartoon character's face smack in the middle of the course fabric. Going to the beach is just a simple, day's work.

On top of all the neat accessories that accompany the beach, there are also a variety of people. On a hot day at the beach you will see a pack of muscular (boys) men run around in their Hawaiian style trunks, sweaty from running around playing volleyball. If they don't kick sand in your face as they run or if they don't hit you with their ball, then they can be quite interesting eye candy. At the same time the "man group" comes to the beach you encounter many young, teenaged girls, laying in their itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow, polka-dotted bikinis. They turn more and more crispy, like rotisserie chicken, as the sun climbs to its hottest temperature. The young girls may not say anything, but the attire definitely suggests feelings of competitiveness between all women. Who looks best in a bathing suit? The world may never know.

Sure, there are the teenagers that run amuck throughout the sand, but one must not forget all of the families, with little kids. There is always the naked toddler running in and out of the water, and another child stuck in a diaper-- good thing there's a poop catcher because I wouldn't want any poop or pee falling into the lake.... Parents are constantly yelling for their kids. Worries about undertows and pedophiles take over the minds of parents who came to the beach to "relax." Sometimes, there is the occasional parent who decides to sleep in the sand or read a good book under their umbrella, but most of them are watching out for their annoying children.

The young infants and toddles have no game against the elementary and middle-school aged children. A common problem for beach is the screaming. Even on the hottest days of the year the Lake water is still ice-cold. Each new child that enters the water has to scream and remind the beach-goers that the water is, indeed, still cold. Then a feisty older brother starts to pick on his poor, little sister, and more screaming ensures. The planned quiet day at the beach turns into a carnival of crazies.

Among all of the families and smokin' babes are all of the average-Joes. This group contains all of the chubby, old men with dark, curly hairs running down their stomachs, the women of the Red Hat Society, and the group of tourist eager to see the fresh water and feel the unique sand. These people don't really contribute to anything... except for the noise and other eyesores. Occasionally, there are the runners, the treasure hunters, and the college students. The runners work extra-hard against the sand and the treasure hunters hoping to make it big while the college-aged girls jump in the air trying to get a cool silhouette combining the elements of the sun and water. These select people are not worthy to be named beach dwellers. Nonetheless, the still contribute to the beach quacks and noises.

So, after examining the array of colors, listening to the obnoxious noises, feeling the freezing water and scorching sand, and seeing all of the people on the beach, I have realized that the beach is a crazy concept. Nowhere else do people actually come together and sit, partially naked, absorb the sun until it hurts, and be uncomfortable with sand riding up to you-know-where. We insist of jumping in a lake that could cause frostbit or hypothermia-- maybe not to that extent, but lips and toes may turn blue! We put ourselves in a position of drowning and other dangerous, and extremely vulnerable, places. There are strong undertows and a risk of someone going missing. I wouldn't necessarily call this a fun, family day.

For some reason, I am drawn to this so-called beach. I love the smiles that I see on the faces around me, and I especially enjoy seeing families together. The beach brings a sense of community. I love the feeling of carrying my over sized floaties, my striped towel, and an attitude ready to have fun. It's always fun to burn the bottom of my feet and I run towards to slapping waves of the water. Normally, I stay too long and end up with red skin. My cheeks turn rosy and my hair dry and tangled from the thrashing it received in the water. Sure, there are many things to worry about... but don't we worry too much from day to day? Enjoy the sun!

<3 your beach-bum

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my little brother.

So... if my brother knew I was about to post something like this he might shoot me :) Too bad he is at boy scout camp this week and will NEVER know.

I was searching through our family desk today and found a paper written by my brother. It's really sweet and reminds me that he is growing up and not the little baby that I used to tease, torture, and love to death. He is becoming a young man- weird.

Written by James 6/3/08

Great-Granddad the Hero

A hero can be seen in many people from both now and the past. Donn Ashcroft was one person that I have look up to and admired. He is my great grandfather and I consider him to be my hero. He has supported me through thick and thin as I have grown up. My grandfather was a very hardworking person and was once a boy scout. A hero can sometimes be seen as someone famous, but my hero is someone in my family. Donn Ashcroft is my hero because of how he has pushed, and loved, me through the years.

My grandpa was born on May 21, 1914 in Wisteria, Michigan. He never had a lot of money, but always seemed to live well. His parents taught him how to work hard and be successful in all that he did. As a kid, we was in boy scouts. He made it all the way to an Eagle Scout. Becoming an eagle scout is a very high honor and he told me that he wants me to join the boy scouts and earn the same rank. He was very proud of my when I started boy scouts, and he couldn't wait for me to get my first class rank. He came to all of my court of honors and saw me get my medals. I have looked up to his standards and watched my hero become more and more proud as I grow. My grandpa was a very courageous boy scout and he has taught me to not be scared during camp outs.

A hero is a man admired by achievements and qualities. My grandpa did many things in his lifetime that I am very proud of. He wrote many stories for the newspaper and people were able to read them and see what he has done. He would give advice and people would write letters to the editor thanking Mr. Ashcroft for his thoughts. I look up to my grandpa and am proud to say that I am his grandson. He was the only person in my family to ever call me Jimmy Cedric. I am proud of him for caring for everyone in my family and taking care of each of us. I thanks him for always making sure that I am safe and cared for. I admire all of his achievements and qualities, which makes him my hero.

My grandpa is someone who could hardly walk her on earth, but he is now walking in heaven. He supported me in everything that I did. My great-grandpa always made sure that he came to some of my football games even though he could barely move. He would rent a special van for wheelchairs and come out to see me during the coldest of times. He had always pushed me to do my hardest at what I do. He taught me not what a man is, but how to be a man. A hero cares for people and wishes them the best. He was someone who could do anything he wanted. He used what he had and made the best out of everything. A hero cared for people and does whatever the can to help, and grandpa always did.

Before my grandpa's death, I headed to the hospital to see him. My older sister went to touch his hand and say good-bye, he was still quiet and didn't move. When I touched his hand to say good-bye, he perked up and started looking around for me. He stayed strong and fought to stay alive for a few more hours. It was hard to watch my grandpa suffer in a hospital, but his love ones, especially his Jimmy Cedric, surrounded him. As I watched him in the bed I could remember all of the times he had helped me. I knew that we would want to say good-bye to his family one last time. As I hugged him one last time I could see that he was still making sure I was okay. He is my hero and I will always miss him.

On March 7, 2008, my grandpa passed away at 8:00am. Even though he may not be with me here on Earth, I can still share what my hero taught me. He's not only a hero or a grandpa. He was also a man who could be counted on. Through his writings, boy scouts, and love, I can show my friends and strangers what it means to be a hero. My grandpa showed me a hero doesn't have to be famous or rich. He showed me that hero's could come to us as family too. A hero needs to be looked up to and admired. My great-grandfather, Donn Ashcroft, was a true hero.

** My brother is my best friend. I am so thankful for the laughter and insight he brings into my family. I can see his personality in his writing. I was always jealous of his relationship with our great-grandfather, but I can see that he was someone he truly loved. James may not always share his emotions, but he is a sensitive human being with a lot of potential and love for the people around him.

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mood ring.

Mood rings... are cool. I purchased such an object today. The sales woman at the store quickly stated that she had only seen one color on each mood ring she sold. I shrugged her unwanted commentary off and splurged on a cheap ring. I assumed the ring would stay blue. Past experiences concluded that blue would dominate over the other colors. I was incredibly wrong. Throughout the evening the ring has varied between purple and a mix of all the colors. Apparently, I am a freak. I'm sure this is probably my tenth mood ring in my life, but I love watching it change colors as my body temperature rises and falls. It's just a piece of cheap plastic.

Mood rings bring me joy

You should probably get one

Go buy a cool ring

Red, Green, Yellow, Blue
Changing as your mood does too
Orange, Black, Purple

women in my life.

One example of a strong woman in my life is my mother. I am not just saying this due to the fact that I feel the need to express my deep, loving gratitude for her raising me, but for the reason of her being a strong woman. My mother was married at the age of twenty one, and had her first child (me) at the age of twenty-two. My younger brother came into the family just four and a half years after my birth. She was a Navy wife and was responsible for packing up the house and transporting the precious valuables from one state to another. She was a caring, thoughtful, devoted wife who cared for her children. Around the time that I started pre-school my dad started to have a severe attitude change. He was no longer considered the "typical" dad. During this intense mood shift he started to become more abusive both verbally and physically. My mom had to make the choice to protect her children, and decided divorce this threat and move to a state with very little money and hardly any possessions.

After the long move to Michigan, my mom became a single mother of two- who didn’t receive child support. She had to deal with the sadness of losing the man that promised to love and care for her, a brand new infant, and five year old daughter completely distraught from the losing the greatest man in her life, along with two new jobs that could barely pay for the two bedroom apartment that the broken family occupied. It was a tough time, but my mom became superwoman and found the strength to continue working.

My mom is one of the best role models in my life. The man she married (my dad) was a great guy who had suffered from a terrible brain tumor that dramtically changed his personality for the rest of his life. Although most people might think that she should have stayed with him through “sickness and in health,” people don’t realize what an unhealthy relationship stemmed from her still being married to him. With his brain tumor also came thirteen different mental disorders ranging from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, and posttraumatic stress disorder. It’s hard to keep a promise to a person when the person giving the promise is no longer there.

I greatly admire my mom. She will always work hard and finds simple pleasures in sewing and crafting for people around her. Whenever I need a person to talk to I will always think of my mom, and she always listens.

She is an example of a strong woman partly due to the fact that she had to become a single mother before the age of thirty, but for also accepting the bad in her life while embracing the good. She was able to recognize the importance of her family and went above and beyond to make her children comfortable. An example of her love can be seen in my tenth birthday. I was in fifth grade and my mom had just lost her job a few weeks before my special day of double digits. This was an unexpected shift in her life plans and she didn’t know how to give a gift when I was praying for some great birthday bash. That year she not only allowed me to invite five girls over for cake and a sleepover, but she stayed up late almost every night to make me a beautiful patchwork quilt to go in my newly designed “grown-up” room. She is an extraordinary woman who puts love in all she does. She is the strongest woman I know.

There are two more incredibly influential women that have shaped my outlook on life today. I call both of them “Grandma.” Both happen to be on my mother’s side of the family. Technically speaking, one is my step-grandmother, but I have never considered her to be this. She is my Grandma Mary DeWitt. My mother’s biological mother is my Grandma Janna South DeWitt. Janna passed away when my mother was three years old. She has suffered from breast cancer and had to leave behind four children with the oldest in elementary school and a great husband, my grandpa. I hear stories all the time about my Grandma Janna. When I see her brothers and sisters they talk about how I look and act like her. Although I have never met her she still plays the role of someone who made a difference in this world. She didn’t win her battle against cancer, but she truly loved her children and I think that motivated her to stay alive as long as she did.

Shortly after Janna’s death my grandpa married my current Grandma Mary. I love that woman with all of my heart. She came into the marriage after a difficult first marriage. She brought three children into the marriage with my grandpa and the two of them had to raise seven children, my aunts and uncles. I can only imagine what a difficult time this was for my grandma. Of course, the step-mom is always wicked and hates her stepchildren, but somehow she remained strong and kept praying for the returned love she so desired. Not only did she help her family, but she also went back to college and got her degree in teaching. She is one heck of a woman... and I love her for the passion she spreads throughout my family.

I know in my heart that I was meant to have two grandmothers: one to watch me from heaven and the other to help me grow here on Earth.

<3
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strong women

(Photo by Sally Vanderploeg)

Three weeks of my May 2010 consisted of eleven, wonderful people, one motor pool bus #8 (Mo), one trailer, and one adventure on the Pine Ridge Reservation (the Rez) in South Dakota. There was no way for me to have ever known what I had gotten myself into. I was incredibly nervous about going to a new place where I might not be accepted. This experience would require a lot of patience and hard work to help bridge understanding between the travelers and the Lakota.


The tradition of the Lakota people emphasizes the importance of women. There is a belief that women are sacred. Women have the ability to cleanse themselves once a month during menstruation. As an American woman entering into a new place from a culture extremely different to that of Pine Ridge, I have had to re-evaluate the way I think about this topic and how it’s portrayed to the people around me. I have never considered myself to be sacred. They also believe women deserve the highest respect. Traditionally, the women in the Lakota culture take care of the family, prepare the food, keep stories, make the clothing, produce the children, build the teepee, and much more. The women of the culture are a large part of the community. The power of women is too strong to fully describe.

While on the Rez, I had the opportunity to see the crafts and artistry from the Native American culture. This included beautiful pieces of beaded jewelry, porcupine quill artwork, paintings, dream catchers, and star quilts I was introduced to a newer dream catcher design: the strong woman dream catcher. During my stay on the Rez, I was able to encounter a newer dream catcher where the web of sinew was shaped like a tipi. The dream catcher symbolizes the role of women and emphasizes their needs to be a key reminder.

The strong woman tepee dream catcher also reminds the people that it is now the female’s turn to try and fix the problems of the world. Not to bash men, but the men have done a great job ruining the beauty. The women can now come, with a patient heart and the knowledge of the past, to build a bridge of understanding between all of the cultures. A large part of the Lakota tradition is the Medicine Wheel. This wheel consists of the colors: red, black, yellow and white. The four colors represent the many races, the cardinal directions, stages of life, and much more. There is a popular saying Mitakuye Oyasin among the Lakota people, which translates to “We are all related.” The women have to take it upon themselves and start to connect the people of red, yellow, black and white. I am willing to help spread this way of life.

Out of the eleven travelers that went to South Dakota, ten of us were young women. Those selectwomen helped me grow more into my womanhood more than any single person. We were together (nonstop) for three weeks. We laughed together and cried together. We sang together, worked together, and played together. We fought with one another and made-up again with a reunion of relief. We opened our hearts and minds to new concepts and ideas that shape the problems and benefits in our world today. We lived in one building, ate the same food, shared razors, shampoo, paper, discussed our bowel movements, and we journaled together. You take ten strangers, each with their own, beautiful personalities, and put them in a room you get a new family. And that’s what we were: a family. I was proud to call the women my family. They follow the idea that there is no one right way to think or act. Each of the girls is beautiful. We were one unit for one set of time. We may not ever be in the same room again, but no one will ever know exactly what we experienced together.

It seems to be a strange place to really see strong women. The Rez? It’s a place where the unemployment rate ranges from 85-95%, where teen suicide is six times higher than the United State National average, where gang violence and drug abuse is part of daily life, where alcoholism consists of about 80% of the population, where the life expectancy for women is fifty-four years and men a grand total of forty-seven, and where there is more domestic violence than any other specific location that I know. The people I have met on the Rez always seem eager to share and ready to learn about the empowerment, or even the simple basic rights and equalities, of women. There needs to be a basis of respect. Between my new family and the strong woman dream catcher, I am reminded of the fact that women are strong.

words used in our culture to describe/name women:

There are many words we use in conversation that are attributed to the traditional genders: male and female. With a group of ten female classmates, who quickly became my great friends, we prompted two simple questions: What words are used to describe women? And what words are specifically associated with women? My initial reaction concluded that this would be an easy task and a complete waste of my time. Soon after the process began, I realized what this really meant to me. I found out quickly that there are many words that are both positively and negatively prescribed for the female species. Words like bitch, slut, cunt, and whore stuck out as condescending and hurtful. My girlfriends and I had to constantly remind one another about the positive aspects women have to offer, but it was mucheasier to come up with the slander.. Attached is our final list of terms.

Bitch Slut Cunt Whore Lady Female
Ho Squaw Aunt Grandma Miss Ms.
Flapper Bride Wife Ditz Blonde Hot
Love Chick Talkative Pregnant Angel Girly-Girl
Witch Mom Tomboy Baby Mama Sweetie Mother
Daughter Girl Delicate Beautiful Dyke Giver or life
Babe Cougar Maid Missy Mrs. Honey
Motherly Sister Temptress Gem Flirt Puppet
Gal Pet PMSing Lesbian Pumpkin Mademoiselle
Sex Butch Sugar Belle Sexy Voluptuous
Tramp Dainty Weak Hussy Dame Baby
Dear Ball&Chain Ma’am Madam Cow Queen
Nanny Siren Boob Flower Tease Friend
BFF Nurse Skank Miss Thang Great Gma Pure
Madonna Lover Straight Adulteress Bag Lady Feminist
Feminine Caregiver Strong Domestic Sassy Devoted
Prostitute Doll Darling Other Half Old Maid Sweetheart
Sex Kitten Princess Muse Harpies Dominatrix Playboy Bunny
Piece of Ass Virgin Goddess Vagina Baby Cakes Cat Lady
Play Thing Mother Hen Peach Starlight Goody2shoes Titty
Hooker Mouse Jewel Peanut Wench Drama Queen
Guys Fox Damsel Cat Homemaker Chica
Vixen Diva Hag Amazon Nun Daughters of Eve
Maiden Double-D Venus Shorty Pussy Bimbo
Teacher Prima Donna Waitress Skirt Debutante Duchess
Mistress Oma Caretaker Cook Baker High-heels
Babushka Roxy Sex Slave Woman Brat Bootylicious Seamstress Girly Nurturing Girl Friend Hormonal Cheerleader
Soprano Alto Toy Senorita Amigas Hourglass Figure
Gentle Bras Thongs Diamonds Pretty Hoochie Mama Sacred Soft Model Crafty Simple Passionate Wicked Poised Tight Ass Pole Dancer Stripper
Birth Control Bountiful Fertile Bosom Playful Classy
Manly Womanly Big Booty Cranky Loverly Bridesmaid Anorexic Bulimic Overweight Slave Emotional Fashionable Fragile Seductive Caring Property Irritable Babysitter Lady of the Night Maternal Misses Menopause Estrogen Tampons Breast Cancer Ovulating Menstrual Varicose Veins Nursing Lactating Osteoporosis Pads Pedicure Ovarian Cancer Curvy Diva Cup Smooth Precious “Hawt” Domesticated Catty Porn Star Soft Spoken Intelligent Make-up Stretch Marks Manicure Polished Trophy Wife Starter Wife Bossy First Lady Secretary

I'm positive this list is incomplete, but that's not the point. We applied that same questions to men and came up with a significantly smaller list... we found many of the derogatory words to be feminine. As a developing girl, I thought I was cool to use words like: ho, bitch, fat, bootylicious. I had always wanted to be skinny, sexy, and not too smart. Fortunately, I had amazing role models who made me feel comfortable in my own skin, and the books I read were full of positive female role models that made me realize I could be smart, curvy, talented, and most importantly, confident. Stop and reflect on your words and actions. Do you categorize people? I challenge you to make a list asking these questions: What words are used to describe men? What words are specifically associated with men?

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one blade of grass

I have learned:

The singleness of a blade of grass
is no less profound than the complex structure of the universe-
that the soft caress of a summer's evening breeze
may be the closest we will ever come to touching the face of God;

The song the sparrow sings is as much a message
from the heavens as are all the words of the prophets-
and the world would be a wiser and happier place
if we could learn to sing the song Earthmakers sings each night before we sleep;

I have learned:

When we come to the edge of all light
and take the first step into the darkness of the unknown
we must believe one of two things will happen:
there will be something for us to stand upon or,
we will be taught how to fly

- Patrick Overton


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