Animals

I made the mistake of reading the comments of this blog.

This comment below stopped me, felt more slimy than the others.

Is it not "How to Rape 101" by another name?

We are not animals. Hunting us should not be your past-time.

___________________________________________________

Here is a copy of the text, I have highlighted for emphasis:

40 Satar B!

March 18th, 2013 @ 9:02 pm
Toronto is a dump. I’ve been living there for 25 years and it’s just gotten worst and worst. The last couple years I’ve been saving up to get out for good. The city is irredeemable. The women here are fat, obnoxious, and think they are hot shit when in reality they are mostly 5s and under(i’m being generous). It is however possible to pick-up women in Toronto you just need to be extremely savvy (especially if you want 7s and up). The most important thing here is to neutralize her bitch-shield and every possible cockblock you face and believe me, you will face many a whole lot of fucking cockblocks in Toronto. Get to the bars early as you don’t have a lot of time. Women don’t go out alone in T.O. at night. Or better yet, go fucking tactical and scope out a group with talent. Wait for someone to break off the group (could be a man, doesn’t matter) and chat them up. Make as quick a connection as you can with them and follow them back to their group. Now don’t try to become involved in the group’s conversation but instead focus on whoever you were first talking to. Slowly involve yourself in the conversation. Ideally you want them to think you are a friend of the person you came back with. Slowly win over the group members closest to you and infect the rest of the group slowly with those feelings of inclusion. Then game as usual.

If you can neutralize the group your chances go up significantly.

Also note that most T.O. girls have boyfriends (not that it matters) and they will bring it up.

Weeknights are key to getting quality here but again you will be facing groups. The best game to run is day-game. You can find many pretty girls out and about in North York, Yonge & Eglinton, Downtown (Union Station to Bloor) as well as some lesser known areas like Eglinton & Bathurst. The best place though is probably UofT St. George campus from spring to fall. Tons of young girls around who are naturally isolating traveling from class to class or reading outside.

Most girls here are not worth a LTR but it is possible to keep a harem of 4-5 girls who are 7 up in rotation with proper game.

If you’re living here or visiting location is key and the city is not very centralized and you can easily loose bangs if you’re staying too far from the bar.

Numbers here are worth the paper they are written on.

It’s very much a hook-up culture, more akin to a college campus than a cultured city.

It is cold about 5 months out of the year and that is when women usually shack up into their LTRs and get fat.

Come when it’s hot (preferably spring as women seem to be in heat and will dump and cheat on their boyfriends with reckless abandon as if they were coming out of hibernation).

If you’d like I’ve just started a blog (today actually) on Toronto. It will be a mix of game, politics, funny stories, tourist info and reviews.

Long-time reader,
Satar B! aka The Real Tunisian
http://therealtunisian.blogspot.ca/

http://therealtunisian.blogspot.ca/

Rape: A Scarier Reality Than You'd Imagine (and probably without the dark alley & woods)

I recently tweeted about the Canadian's Women's Foundation PSA below that is circulating around Canadian TV networks at the moment. I don’t subscribe to cable (or own a TV for that matter), so I had yet to hear about and/or see it outside of the Internet. However, it was recently brought up in conversation by a male friend of mine, who had seen it on TV.

His first reaction was that it was “messed-up” (that 1 in 2 Canadian women are sexually assaulted or raped in their lifetime), and quickly shifted to what seemed to be a, “but that can’t be true-!” which came from the part of his soul that wished it wasn’t — Because rape and sexual assault is violent, horrific, degrading — and in many ways considered –the worst– thing that can happen to someone.

But I am a female. From my own personal research and discussions with other women, the ½ statistic seems not only real, but perhaps even underestimated. Unfortunately, what we don’t seem to grasp quite yet, is that sexual assault and rape is not (always, or usually) that movie-TV-America’s-Most-Wanted violence that we see commonly depicted, and ultimately lambasted for its inhumanly existence. That image wrong, and we can agree on the devastation and violence of its depiction and the act that it attempts to represent.

What is still contested, however, is the less clear-cut forms of rape and assault that exist far more frequently than those media-representations of movie-TV-America’s-Most-Wanted rape and sexual violence.

As women, our gendered experiences (those that we experience in a large part because we are identified as female by others/self) sometimes hurt us.

As females, daily sexual harassment is a condition of our realities. And as females, we similarly have a 1-in-2 chance of being sexually assaulted or raped. These are realities most women are aware of. To us, this statement is more than a horrific statistic. It is consistent with women’s day-to-day experiences of what it means to not be a man. It means that at some point, you will be hurt by a man, simply because you are not one. This translates into our sexual realities as well.

When I have made the conscious effort to have my female sisters discuss situations where they felt passive, pressured, unenthusiastic, coerced, guilted, scared, or threatened to have sex, the conversations are astounding. I have yet to find one person unable to tell me at least one of their own terrifying tales. These are situations that are happening beyond the dark corners of alleys and the shady backwoods.  But these acts cause pain regardless. They are acts of sexual violence and often, rape.

And these acts of violence happen to us. And we feel terrible, and violated, and wronged in some strange way that isn’t exactly the America’s-Most-Wanted form of rape – but there is no doubt in our hearts about who was heard and hurt in the situation. 

The media’s depiction of rape is far too limited to capture the real, frightening realities of women who experience rape and sexual assault outside of the dominant rape-narrative. Our limited understandings of rape therefore create doubts about where the lines are drawn, and what exactly constitutes this false notion of “real rape”. Thinking there is a closed-box of “real rape” definitions cause us to see rape in a dangerously limited way, which ultimately results in more cases of rape and sexual assault. (ie: "It wasn't rape, she was just playing hard to get", "It wasn't rape, she really wanted it", "It wasn't rape she was asking for it, she's the one who made out with me all night", "It wasn't rape, I just didn't want to use a condom", etc. etc. etc).

In order to locate our sensibilities so that these experiences happen less, we need to accept rape and sexual assault as any instance where there is not enthusiastic consent. If enthusiastic consent is new to you, consult this powerful piece.

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In the end, although the other ladies who were present when my male friend brought up the PSA weren’t outright in supporting the statistical claims, (women can also understand rape in dangerously limited terms), neither did they reject the idea with the same terror that my male friend did. And I hate to admit it male friends and family (just as I hate to live it), but your female friends, girlfriends, wives, sisters, cousins, mothers, grandmothers, and daughters exist in a reality where being raped, or sexually assaulted is the norm. We must do our part to ensure that our to-be daughters are part of a safer and more loving reality.

Do not support rape culture.

Listen to the women in your life. We have some pretty crazy stories.

The Not-So-Wonderful World of Disney

It was in my undergrad that I started thinking about Disney and its ideological implications. Encouraged by an English degree that promoted critical readings, all of a sudden I was re-thinking my reasons for never enjoying The Little Mermaid as a small child. Was it because it had such an archaic underlying message for young girls? I mean – gain supposed “freedom” (in the arms of a man), by merely sacrificing one’s voice (who needs it)? Reflecting as an undergrad, this storyline hardly seemed to mirror the overarching “innocence” narrative that Disney would have most adults buying into. Pair this alongside my new reading of Beauty and the Beast wherein Belle is housed-up with a (literal) beast who beats the crap out of her, (but don’t worry, she stays), continues to love him, and *voila!* he becomes a romantic prince (blond-haired, blue-eyed to boot), and it was finished, it was done. I had officially written Disney into my exponentially growing accumulation of poisonous things to inflict on children.

The Beast: abusive, manipulative and controlling.

And so it is no surprise to me to read Giroux’s critical reading of the expansive Disney empire and find that the larger empire too, is full of inherent contradictions which all serve to benefit the few. And I don’t have to think very far to realize just how effective Disney has been in really duping people into thinking that it really is all good fun, innocence, and magic. I have made no friends at dinner parties offering my readings of Beauty and the Beast. In fact, it would probably be conservative to suggest I’ve only made a few enemies. Grown women don’t want their little girl dreams ruined, I mean, there is nothing feel-good about realizing that your childhood “hero” was really a battered woman. And Ariel’s voice? “But she loved him!” they cry to me, or, “But she was leaving her father! That’s feminist in itself!” Depending on how many drinks I’ve had I either leave it alone, or I hash it out further, and by the end of the party most people have called me a buzzkill, or a conspiracist, or if I’ve done really well, I leave with most of the room hoping to dear god that I never teach their children. After all, imagine how negative it must be to be in my classroom!

And perhaps it is. Or perhaps it is this bogus idea of childhood innocence that I want to give my students the ability to question. Childhood innocence? You mean the childhood innocence that means that children can’t think? You mean the childhood innocence that suggests that children are better off watching and reading uncritically, absorbing every bit of conformist, commercialized, problematically ideologized crap that is designed with their “innocent” (and buying) minds in mind? Ah yes, that one. And it is not a “buzzkill” of a teacher who has her classroom question Disney, rather, it is a classroom that empowers students to make their own decisions – and to have the option that maybe, just maybe, there are better role models than Belle or Ariel. And maybe, just maybe, they want to be “A Part of THAT World”.

Q&A: Why can't I say retard?

Recently, a friend of mine sent me a very honest question. I responded in length to him, and figured it could be of use to others who have ever wondered about using those words.

Dear DJ Beef,

I am having a conversation with a friend of mine about the useage of language with respect to victimization of various demographics. We are talking about reclamation of words... and it's a concept I don't really understand, likely on account of me being a straight white male. On the one hand, the argument is that using a word like 'faggot' carries with it all the terrible ways that word has been used to spread hatred and pain, but on the other hand, somehow it stops doing that when it's the people using it within that community.... 

You are smart, I and I know you've spent a decent amount of energy thinking on things like this. Help me out here.. I like saying "bitch" and "slut" and "retard".... but I don't want to be knowingly victimizing people either... This is confusing for me.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

You rock,

Anonymous.

Dear anonymous,

Well, to be honest you don't seem that confused, other than perhaps in disagreement how reclamation of a word can really do any good. And that is a point of contention among groups in various communities as well -- not all LGBTQ people agree with the reclamation of the word queer, and not all black people are in support of use of the n-word within their communities. Personally, the only words I have much reclamation over are those such as bitch and slut, and to be honest I don't think women are at a point where using those words to describe people serves any purpose other than ostracizing others in the community we are supposedly trying to reach solidarity with. So I can understand your disagreement with this idea.

That being said, unfortunately Mr. Straight White Male, you don't really put yourself in a great position using any of these contentious-type words. Although many people understand the "I don't mean it that way", the reality is that language and power are very much caught up in each other. Whether you "mean it" or not, you are always using those words from a position of privilege. Speaking from a position of privilege, and using words that have been used to victimize and oppress certain groups of people in the past, ultimately lumps you into the category of someone who is using those words in a way that continues to marginalize people as "other" or different from you -- whether it's the context you intend or not.

There are certain words that are more acceptable than others. Consider, "bitch" for instance. That word gets thrown around like it's nobody's business and some may argue that for this reason it isn't really offensive. I disagree. I think the more acceptable terms are positively correlated with how oppressed certain groups continue to be. Why is it that bitch is so acceptable? Consider it against the use of "retard". Is there any doubt in your mind that people with disabilities are even close to having the same access and rights as those who are able bodied or minded? Perhaps our language and acceptability of certain offensive terms reflects this inequity.

The truth is this: when I walk into a group of people, let's say they are male (although women are similarly guilty of this), and there is a discussion going on where the term "slut" is being thrown around. I never feel good about it. In fact, it feels unsafe to me, as if somehow these men are able to project moral superiority over people they have no experience of, or being. What gives them a right to use a word that is used to degrade people more like me, than them? Does this mean I write these people off and would never be friends with them? No. But it does mean I may consider their values, and ultimately what prejudices they hold under the immediate surface. I definitely am going to be suspicious, and I wouldn't want to date someone who went around calling women sluts, that is for sure.

As a result, I try not to use any of those contentious words. Of course they slip. Sometimes it would feel so nice calling the woman who just wronged me a "dumbass bitch cunt slut". But I think sometimes it feels good just because there is so much power behind those words. Why don't other words suffice? And in the end, as someone who does have a lot of privilege myself, I think being required to give up usage of a few words is the least I can do from a position where pretty much everything else is nicely handed to me. Perhaps it is one of the few things that are "not allowed" for someone in my position. I think in the end, that's okay with me.

Children Are Critical Thinkers: It's You That Isn't

For all of the haters who believe primary-aged children are too young to learn complex concepts such as race, gender & class, I have found a little woman who wants to prove you wrong -- because, quite simply, you are.

Fluid Hair Salon: hates women but loves their money.

This ad has been facing some controversy. Some quick details: it's for an Edmonton hair salon and they have "apologized". Hmm where to begin...

The ad itself: This ad features a woman who has been beaten by her partner. Her partner is now offering her a diamond necklace. Now let's consider the things so very wrong with this picture:

1) The ad normalizes domestic violence: that this ad makes light of a very serious, painful, and illegal sickness that is part of our society suggests that it isn't a real problem that still exists. The problem does exist, and it isn't funny and it shouldn't be used to advertise a salon. Ever. Every 6 days in Canada a woman is KILLED by her intimate partner, this is not a joke, this is an epidemic.

2) The ad suggests that women are petty enough to be bought off: To suggest to men, or women, or anyone, that money can buy-off all your problems, including beating your partner is so completely sick it makes me physically ill. It suggests that if I was to be beaten by my partner, I am so incapable and shallow that a diamond necklace would qualm all my problems and I would smile and then probably get my hair done (and make him pay). This is OFFENSIVE to ALL of us, men and women alike.

3) The ad suggests that women are required to look "good" all of the time: Of course, this includes while you are being beaten. Do I have to explain this one?

4) All three of these factors create an ad that is in itself violent towards women. It is media depictions such as the above that not only prove an imbalance of power in our society, but that simultaneously hold up the structure that ensures a continuation of this violence. By simply looking at it, I am to pick up on cultural cues and narratives that tell the story of the beaten housewife, and then I am to understand that she can be bought off. Then I am to understand that a woman should always look good, and well, that is supposed to be the funny part. PARDON ME FOR MISSING THE JOKE HERE.... This is not a joke, this is not okay, and I am sorry I am not going to sit down, shut up, and get my hair done!

And as if I wasn't pissed off enough already, perhaps what is even more offensive than the ad itself is the hair salon's press release in response to the ad. Let me pick out some key phrases:

"Edmonton is presently the murder capital of Canada. Media’s energy and time may be better spent boycotting dangerous areas, gangs, guns, other street weapons, or a sick justice system, which unfortunately is still sadly lacking when it comes to punishing abusers or any kind."

You are part of the media, Fluid Hair Salon. You became that when you chose to advertise. And you also just became a contributor to the violence you are suggesting is a problem in Edmonton. And, as mentioned above, domestic abuse and the home can be a "dangerous area", and yes "guns and other street weapons" are used against women... by their partners.

"If survivors of abuse interpret this ad to make light of any abusive situation, we sincerely apologize, that was never our intent as there are people that worked on this campaign who are survivors of abuse."

Oh, are there? How kind of you to consult survivors of abuse before putting out an ad that draws light on their situation. I bet you're not racist either, you probably have a black friend, don't you?

"To the rest of you who this has so deeply affected, we truly hope you do something to help stop domestic violence. Truly honor the survivors that you are standing up for. Unfortunately boycotting a hair salon will not accomplish this."

ARE YOU REALLY PATRONIZING ME NOW? Are you for real? You hope I "do something" to help stop domestic violence? Uh, how about I don't put out terrible ads that treat women like they are petty, shallow pieces of garbage that deserve to "look good" while being beaten? Oh wait, I never did that - YOU DID! Why the hell are you telling me to "honour survivors"?? You just took a survivor and told her to get her HAIR DONE?! PLEASE DIRECT ME TO YOUR HONOUR! Are you really going to sit back and play mind games with me? Are you trying to convince me and my allies that we won't solve domestic violence by boycotting your hair salon? Well, that's just stupid. We KNOW that.

NEWSFLASH!!!

We aren't boycotting you to stop domestic violence, we are boycotting you because you treat us like dirt, you think that women are mindless, you think that domestic violence is a joke, and your ridiculous, sick ad contributes to the very violence in our culture that leads to deaths EVERY 6 DAYS! And if you think "artistic expression is your right", well then perhaps you should be a god damned artist, not a hair salon, and certainly not a propagator of violence towards the clientele you are trying to reach.

When white kids riot: The London Riots

When white western kids riot it's easy not to understand. What do they have to complain about? What is their cause? Speculations regarding the "trigger" for the London riots has gone from pegging it to a reaction to the Mark Duggan killing last week, to more recent accounts that it started when police beat a 16-year-old girl. Despite your reactions to these two theories, these were only surface events to a much larger systematic problem.

As touched on in an article by Penny Red, the London Riots are "viral civil unrest" and it absolutely and completely demands attention. As easy as it is to watch and chastise young, white, youth for their violent rage it begs the question: what is so bad about a white kid's life that would make them so angry? And as Penny Red says, they have "nothing to do and little to lose". Unfortunately, underneath racism's mechanisms, economic shortcomings like job losses and cuts to social programs affect the entire working-class population of a country. Divisions of race mask a smaller upper echelon of power who don't care about your race, as long as those at the bottom are distracting themselves with it.

Class oppression is hard to identify, because it crosses and spans and confounds all other power mechanisms such as gender, race, sexuality, ablism and ageism. That white youth are angry suggests that the class oppression has gotten to a boiling point where even white straight males feel that something's wrong, even if they can't quite identify it. And so maybe that's why they have taken to the streets to express rage. Because for years there has been a gross feeling stirring deep within them of things not being right. And despite being white and young, they still don't have jobs, and their government isn't doing much to help them. And the cuts that have kept coming have gotten deep enough to really hurt, and it seems worth it to just destroy anything the minute someone is paying attention.

These are young people with crippling student debt, people who have been turned into demographics and marketing brackets and not much else, people who have lost the will to fight after being told countless times to sit-down and shut-up. If they choose to say something peacefully they are told, "Protests will never amount to anything!".

I can't tell you the amount of times I've heard people complain about the "apathy of young people today" (myself included), and yet the minute young people get some attention (inevitably through destruction), they are immediately demonized by the media as criminals who are anti-democratic. People act as if these events are coming from absolutely nowhere and cannot be explained. The truth is this: when young white people are angry, it means something is terribly, terribly wrong. These are not people held back by race, but rather those who privilege from it. When the privileged are angry it means everyone else has already been close to silenced.

Twitter: the not-so-silent Serial Apathy Killer

You know, I often find myself in debates with friends, family and random strangers regarding my various views on politics, feminism, anti-racism, queer rights, conspiracy theories, social programs, education, curriculum, etc. As someone who feels I spend a lot of time explaining my viewpoints it would be somewhat unbelievable to say that I find people apathetic. And yet, I do. Because for every worthwhile debate or discussion I have, there are at least three that don't happen. Usually it happens like this: I say something and immediately the witness' (because they are not participant) eyes start to gloss over and roll up, darting around for something more interesting than this annoying pent-up left-wing rager who is about to rant about something.

For instance, just today, someone on facebook posted a comment about welfare recipients potentially being required to submit a blood test to prove they are not drug users. Responses from "Big Brother!" to "damn right!" were brought up and I decided to weigh-in. I targeted one responder in particular, and following my response she semi-agreed (or at least acknowledged I made some valiant points) and then said, "I dunno... This is getting to in depth for me! Lol!". I'm not sure this can be considered apathetic (as she did have an original point), or more so an example of how the internet gives everyone a voice, if sometimes perhaps hastily thought-through before it is articulated.

But that, I suppose was not my point... I meant to talk about apathy. And although this blog generally serves as a vessel for me to voice anger, today it serves something different. Today I witnessed the true anti-apathy of Toronto citizens via social media, in particular twitter. Today, from glorious Sudbury (home to Science North), I was able to watch Torontonians get angry, get heard, get tired and stay strong at City Hall. Bodies, such as mine, that were not there in physicality have sat peeled to their computers watching live-feed of what has occurred, who is saying what, and voicing what truly matters to them in their own city. Hundreds of citizens made it to City Hall before 10am to sign-up to speak to Rob Ford, the mayor directly. I'd suggest that hundreds (if not thousands) more are attending in web-spirit, broadcasting what is wrong with cutting social services that benefit us all as citizens of this city.

And how thankful I am to be apart of it, even if it is behind this cyberscreen. Because from behind this cyberscreen I have been granted the power of a voice. The brief dances of twitter allow small glimpses into the citizen's spirit, and this spirit is viral. Let this entry serve as a tribute to those who have proven today not to be apathetic. Thank you. There is nothing more inspiring than knowing there is a discussion occurring -- always. There is nothing more refreshing than knowing we aren't all averting our eyes to the ceiling wishing that concerned person over there would shut the hell up.

Down With Bangin' not Jimjilbangin' -- Why are we North Americans so scared of our bodies?

When's the last time you got naked with members of the same sex? I mean naked, real naked. I can't speak for men, but on the female side of things, I am discounting the type of naked you do in the locker room at the gym. You know the type, bra on with the shirt still on (just take out your arms), and then hope you don't have to change your underwear, (but we all know if that's about to happen the ol' towel trick always comes in handy). These are tricks I felt I learned as a young girl, before I could consciously even realize that I was learning them. They've come in handy many, many times, and seem to be a standard cultural practice in most spaces where the need for clothes to come off occurs.

What has us North Americans so squeamish about nakedness in front of our gendered allies? I remember being 8 years old and going to a camp (one I later worked at) where I was required to change out of my swimsuit in a room full of other young girls. I would do all I could to capture one of the changerooms -- there were only 3 and there were about 40 girls -- it was tough, but perseverance and sheer anti-naked anxiety-induced strategy allowed me to snipe one most times. I repeat, this was at 8 years old.

Being in Korea has allowed me to take a step back of what seems to be a widespread North American naked shame party. Here, being naked with your gendered peers is common practice as going to the jimjilbang (sauna and occasionally bath house) is sewn into the cultural everyday. This means getting naked with your Mom, aunts, cousins, and friends routinely, from childhood right up until old age. These women walk around with a confidence not known to most of us North Americans. They don't cower in corners, they don't hide behind towels (Korean towels are far too small to do so even if you wanted to) and they don't do any fancy tricks to make sure no one sees your nipples when you're putting on a new bra or shirt. They just are as they are.

The naked shame thing is bad enough on its own, but only seems more disastrous when I think about the way North America is oversexed in virtually every other avenue. Pre-teens wear make-up, everyone seems to be body conscious by the time they're 10 and I don't have to go on about advertising, or music or other texts because we all know the adage "sex sells" and most of us take it for granted that it's a marketing strategy that's here to stay. For a culture that is oversexed, what has us so strung-out about being naked in front of other members of the same sex?

In a conversation with a few girlfriends of mine (while naked in a public bath I may add) we talked about how very few of us give much thought to getting naked in front of men... in front of women though? Wow, that's terrifying. We talked about how being in a space where there are others around us, also naked, is a liberating experience. We talked about how it's good to see others bodies for how they are. We talked about how when we went home, if we stripped the way we have grown accustomed to here, we would be looked at strangely -- as if we were alien to be so upfront and honest about the bodies that we personally inhabit -- but more importantly, share with other women around us. We've all got cellulite, we've all got stretch marks, some of us have asses we'd rather keep hidden, some of us have boobs we'd rather see permanently bra-ed up. These insecurities are best dealt with in the open, trying to keep them locked up amongst our sisters is to play a horrible game that no one is winning.

And so, this is a call to my North American sisters. Get naked, with your girlfriends. Let it all hang out. I warn you, it's awkward for the first five minutes. But once you let that first anxiety heap off on the floor with your clothes, you'll realize how heavy all those layers really are.

Save the Dinosaurs! (Instead of Face in the Korean Hagwon Industry).

I haven't written in awhile. I haven't been freelancing, I haven't been writing at all really, and I've barely been bitching. No longer am I in a space where I can freely complain about a culture. I am a visitor here in Korea and there are very few instances where myself as a white, temporary, inhabitant has the place to speak my grievances. It is simply not my place, especially given that I am here based on the racist world structure in general, and the business monopoly that has been granted to (stolen by) the Western world.

That being said, while being here I am an educator. I teach young children, age 6. I teach them 75% of their lessons that they receive, and I teach them in English. I teach them Math, Science, Social Studies, Grammar, Language Arts, Phonics, Arts & Crafts, Cooking and Geography. I also read them the odd book (or 5...a day). They are upper-class students from upper-class families. They contribute to part of a $14 billion hagwon (private school) industry that thrives in this country because English education is so highly revered and sought-out. This is the business of education at it's finest. And in many cases I am merely a pawn at the bottom of the stepping ladder.

It is the overwhelming concern of appearances within this industry that frustrates me most. From what I can tell, performances (Christmas, or Graduation, or the like) are of the utmost importance to even the most caring (and legitimate) Hagwon owners. What this means is that in order to prove how "good" the education at a particular school is, the educators are required to spend hours upon hours teaching inane dances, songs and skits (to actual perfection) instead of actually teaching valuable lessons. From a person who values education and the role of the student within this system, it is frustrating beyond belief having to force a 6-year-old to sing "Silent Night" when they'd much rather be learning about dinosaurs, the continents, what the word "enjoy" means and what they want to be when they grow up. And yet it is this charade of appearances (that supposedly proves educational worth) that in fact robs these children of lessons they are so interested in learning.

I should mention that I am not saying by any means that song, dance, theatre or the like is inane. I feel much the opposite. In fact, I feel that these subjects have an extremely valuable place in the education system and in most (Canadian) cases are under-represented. What I am trying to say is that to force a young child to do repeat something to the point where they are nearly crying of boredom (as am I) serves absolutely zero educational worth. As the dictator at the front of the class (which is how I feel in these moments) it is aggravatingly painful to endure.

I'd be much happier talking about Triceratops. Oh, by the way it's pronounced "Try-care-a-tops" in Korean. My student, "V-Rex" told me.

Corpses are so hot: the erotization of violence towards women

To the right there is a window display featured at Barney's department store in New York. Or a window display that was featured at Barney's... before it got removed.

Congratulations Barney's, you effectively decided that a blood-strewn woman in a contorted position, falling off a chair (being thrown off a chair?) isn't the best angle to sell your clothing to women. Nothing like women and violence to sell an A.L.C gown.

And yet does this surprise me? Hell no. Shit like this is seen all the time and women posed in provocatively violent positions are eroticized over and over again. Nothing like a woman beat into submission to speak sex appeal. It is the very same reason that the latest Lady Gaga video for "Paparazzi" completely creeped me out. It can be viewed here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQJ9Vi8GLok

The first opening scene shows Lady Gaga thrown off a balcony where she ends up in a contorted position on the pavement with blood seeping from her skull. Sexy. But this disturbing image (or storyline) is followed up by countless other nearly subliminal flash shots of contorted dead women. And I'm talking gruesome: we have a nurses with bullet wounds to the head, Seran-wrapped asphyxiated bodies dumped in the woods, hangings, and apparent death by shovel-beating. If you don't want to subject yourself to the entire video check out the 45 seconds following the 4:20 mark. If you want to see what I mean even more clearly, cut the sound (your ears will thank me too). These one-second (sometimes less) shots are laced through this video while supposedly ending with a "rah rah girl power!" message at the very end when the Lady herself announces "I killed my boyfriend". Again, nothing like murder to show who means business.

Lady Gaga is currently one of the biggest pop stars around. Millions of pre-teen girls and boys are eating this shit up on MTV without the slightest clue of the inherant violence contained within its 8 minutes. Sure, I could use my degree in English to argue that the video actually calls attention to the effects of the sexualization of women in the first place (via the paparazzi), but unfortunately even that argument would have to avoid addressing the constant eroticization of violently murdered female corpses found within the video itself... I don't think you can really argue with those. And why are these images only a second long? Well because if they were any longer, parents (and people) would probably give a shit.

White privilege: it's real my friends!

I have been taking part in a facebook battle for the last 30 hours or so. A facebook battle you ask? Yes, a facebook battle, prompted by a status of a friend of mine. I am not going to go into the details, because it would be too painful. But I have chosen to take an excerpt of one response and perhaps we can go from there in building how ignorant some people can be.

Here it is...

Are you ready?

"Caucasians are the most socially suppressed population in north america and thats a fact".

You've heard it friends! White people are socially suppressed. In fact white people are the most socially suppressed of all races. I know this is a fact because someone on facebook said so. Oh wait, sorry, no, we can't say white people. We should say caucasian (makes white people feel more comfortable after all). Dear god almighty, I don't know what planet this person lives on but I am going to guess that it isn't Earth.

Look, white privilege is complicated business. It is so complicated that it works its magic in such an exceptional way that it exists without white people even realizing it! And then what results? Comments like the above. Look, no one is going to come up to you and say "Hey, congratulations! You are white, that is why you got the job!" and no one is going to say "Wow, you are so beautiful because you are white". It is not that simple. Rather, it is a power system that is deeply entrenched in the way Canada was built and founded (exterminating indigenous populations, for example). It is so entrenched that most of the time people don't even realize they are doing it.

I could go on and on here, but to be honest, I don't really have the the energy to dismantle racist structures of Canadian society in one blog post. Rather, I will post a few points that were written by Peggy McIntosh, an educator who wished to "unpack" what she terms the "invisible knapsack" of white privilege. They are privileges that she is granted as a white person.

The full article can be found here: http://www.nymbp.org/reference/WhitePrivilege.pdf

* I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented
* When I am told about our national heritage or about "civilization", I am shown that people of my color made it what it is
* I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race
* I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them
* I can swear, or dress in second-hand clothes or not answer letters without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty, or the illiteracy of my race
* I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.
* I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having coworkers on the job suspect that I got it because of race
* I can be sure that if I ask to talk to "the person in charge" I will be facing a person of my race

These are just a few examples of a larger list McIntosh has compiled, but I think they make the point. So in response to my facebook battler who claimed I am "one of those self hating apologetic whiny caucasians just because I feel sorry that my parents were able to pay my way through university", no, that is not the case. I am simply claiming my own implication in a societal structure that benefits me every day arbitrarily. I never chose to be white and did not choose to gain these privileges, much like one does not choose to be a person of colour and be faced with racism. However, that does not eradicate me from the responsibilities I have in being a more ethical person to ensure the next generation moves in a more loving and fair direction.

Hot, sexy and (more importantly) angry.

Last night coming out of Dufferin Station I made an immediate left to head the long 400m home. However, in an event that is remarkably not different from other occasions a man (possibly drunk) decides to yell the following welcome:

“THERE’S A HOT SEXY GIRL RIGHT THERE!... OH YA...mmmm...HOT SEXY GIRL YA.. RIGHT THERE!”

Before I even continue, let me set the record straight by saying, no I was not “dressed sexy” – I was not wearing heels and no part of my clandestine skin was showing other than my hands and my face. My neck you ask? No, not even. Actually I was wearing a scarf (scandalous, I know).

Look, I was wearing a hoodie okay? And no (I know what you’re thinking), not even one of those skin-tight sexy-like hoodies*. I am talking a hey-I- don’t-really-feel-like-getting-sexually-harassed-tonight-kinda-hoodie. There were no leggings* involved at the scene, I was wearing jeans... and no, not even my tightest ones.

And yet apparently it is still okay to YELL to the entire street corner at midnight about how sexy I am.

Look, I realize I am sexy. You don’t need to remind me. I’ll take those reminders from people who know my name, thanks. Maybe next time I see you coming out of the subway I will inform everyone around:

“HERE COMES AN IGNORANT PRICK! HE’S AN ASSHOLE! CHECK OUT THE LAME ON THIS GUY RIGHT HERE!”

But I can’t do thaaat. Then I’ll just be one of them crazy bitches.

Sexy girl? Or one of them crazy bitches? Wow,these are impeccable options here, when did it get so awesome to be female?

The problem is this: when you’re female, you’re female (you don’t have much choice, unless you are interested in costly genital reconstruction surgery). And when you’re a female most of the perks that come with the gender (such as so-called compliments on emergence from public transit) only show up nice and clear when you’re alone. The looks, the yells, the honks, the glares, the whistles, the remarks, the cat-calls, the “compliments” – all of these things are best experienced solo. It’s hard to explain to some men why it gets really old being “hit on” all the time.

Look, when it comes to trying to pick-up, the sexual harassment route, it’s getting a little old – I’ve heard it all before, no it’s not acceptable, and no, I have never slept with someone who started yelling:

“THERE’S A HOT SEXY GIRL RIGHT THERE!... OH YA...mmmm...HOT SEXY GIRL YA.. RIGHT THERE!”

So please, as I said to the man who so delicately let me know his thoughts... bite me.

*I do not have anything against either leggings or skin-tight sexy-like hoodies. I own them both, and yes, look damn sexy in them.

Brangelina: Causing Severe Identity Issues, One Child at a Time

I'll admit that in my day I have had crushes on both Brad and Angelina. However, once they morphed into Hollywood's scandal-ridden super-couple I noticed Brad looking a bit wrinkly and Angie (can I call her Angie?) looks a bit washed up. Jennifer Aniston on the other hand seems to improve her looks with every failed relationship! Now there's a girl I can look up to... but I digress. Anyways, I have a couple problems with the Brangelina.

1) What the hell is a UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador anyways?

Yup. You know, Angie's superhero title. It sounds pretty noble, goodwill is a good moniker to put in any title. But I did some research. Turns out it has little to do with goodwill and a lot more to do with celebrity status. Under these circumstances I will assume that Angelina has very little goodwill that is separate from good PR. Which brings me to my next point.

2) Maybe Angie (and Brad) should stop worrying about PR and start being parents.

How many kids do they have these days? 6? Something like that. Well, I hate to break it to Brangelina, but unless your 6 kids are working for you it's about time you took a reality check and realize that you've just inherited a new full-time career. It's called parenting. They should try it sometime. I nominate Brad to quit -- afterall, Angie has an important role with the UN.

3) They should start being parents so they can prepare for the onslaught of identity issues their children will have.

I'm not too worried about Shiloh, the blonde, blue-eyed celespawn. She'll be alright. She'll have her first acting gig at 7, be addicted to cocaine at 12, enter rehab at 14, pose nude for Playboy at 20 and around 25 will come out with a supersmash movie like Never Been Kissed (although we'll hardly believe it). What does concern me is the rest of their "It's a Small World Exhibit". Afterall, there are no better candidates to understand society's racism than Brangelina. They have dealt with a lot of racism themselves I'm sure. It's hard being dubbed "the two most beautiful people in the world" and it's even harder to deal with the classism they must face, being rich and all.

The point is, combating racism is not about breeding a little UN in your home. The UN has done a lot more to fuck people over than to bring them out of the trenches. It involves a powerful organization with the most sway going to - you guessed it - the most powerful countries, who do their best to keep their own interests taken care of while internationally trying to look like they too, are all goodwill. Angie herself, in many ways is the perfect figurehead to stand for an organization that does on an international level what she does privately -- takes a lot of innocent people down with her in an attempt to spread some good PR.

Keep the Crazy Confidential

I am a self-admitted overanalyst. Therefore, I may highly consider the ways I am perceived by others. I am generally worried that there are other people like me who are similarly psychoanalyzing my every move. It is one thing to constantly interpret everyone else, it is quite another to realize they are doing it to me.

Then, every once in awhile, I meet a person that disrupts my social bubble to prove that everyone is not like me. Some people really do carry on without the least regard for how their actions may be percieved.

For instance. If I was to send some poetic text message to someone that I was interested in, and never heard back... well, first I would cry, and then I would refuse to contact them ever again. Yes, this has everything to do with ego. My imagination would tell me that my object of affection is totally showing all their friends the message, and they are laughing and everyone is having a good laugh based on my hopelessly romantic feelings. Therefore, I would never contact them again.

But, see, that is just how I would do things.
Others operate differently.
Others do not percieve non-responses as a hint.
Others do not realize that silence is deafening.
Others just keep on going and going and going and going until people like me can't analyze them at all anymore.
Because I don't need to.
Case Analysis Closed: Crazy.

Demand: get your fetus off facebook.

In keeping with the theme of whining about social networking sites (ie: facebook), I am going to voice something that has long perturbed me. Well, no, I cannot even say long because something this freakish in nature has only existed since the advent of facebook. And even then, I can only really suggest that this has started happening in the last year or so. Although I know that somewhere, someone else has been subjected to this earlier. What I am talking about you ask? The facebook fetus of course.

The facebook fetus is an increasing phenomenon that involves women broadcasting their ultrasound pictures to all of us "friends" on facebook. Now, I have nothing against ultrasound pictures. If you want a picture of your little human inside you, that is cool. I even sort of understand it as I have had a yearning uterus for a couple years now. However, under absolutely no circumstances should that poor innocent human being be shoved into the e-universe without any say in the matter. In fact, I may argue it's defamation of character -- you get facebook fetused and it automatically proves to the world you have idiotic parents. That kind of information should stay top secret until the kid turns 4, enters kindergarten and eats glue.

If I have learned anything in the last few weeks, it is that people on facebook (at least the ones who aren't your real friends) are the ones who will ask the most inappropriate questions. Social norms go flying out the window, and people think it is perfectly acceptable to ask someone's grieving parents, who they have never met, "What did he die from?" in reference to their young son's death. People also seem to think it is okay to ask for clarification on who this person is, as if they would not have gotten word if in fact they had the right to ask that question in the first place. Facebook is not a place for social niceties.

Therefore, when you go putting up your facebook fetus, you have to be prepared for the (god forbid) reality that something may happen from point A to point B and maybe broadcasting every detail of your pregnancy isn't exactly the best idea. Childbirth is far from a perfect science-- do you want to have to explain to Joe Shmo why it is there aren't any new pictures of facebook fetus post-birth? No, of course not. But I swear to you someone will ask. Oh, and don't think this will be in a private message. I mean, someone will ask, on your wall, and then some other nice soul will respond "Yeah! I was wondering too!" and people will start talking about your business like it's their business and then rumours will start and you won't have a say in anything, just like your facebook fetus didn't have a say in the first place.

Do your kid and do yourself a favour. Keep you fetus to yourself, your family, and your friends. If no one else, Lil' Fetus and me will appreciate it.

I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?

Alright. My first beef... how... succulent. This social media stuff is getting me down, I mean I've always been on top of e-things but it seems the only way to get a writing gig these days is if you broadcast yourself to the entire world. I'm not denying my own narcissism here. Afterall, everything I do is really important. But am I really supposed to care about everyone else?

Okay, who am I kidding. I creep your shit all the time. I refresh facebook on average probably 100 times a day and yes, I've searched through every single last morsel of existence that you or your drunk friend has decided is webworthy. I've seen how much you've gained weight since grade 12, and yes, I hoped that it would happen -- I never liked your shit anyways and your Tommy Girl made me want to vomit. Glad to see that Future Shop gig is working out for you, I heard the benefits are really good there. I really hope the staff Christmas party works out as well as it did last year. No, unfortunately you didn't untag yourself fast enough. It is really too bad about that last tequlia shot. No really, I mean that.

But yeah, I still creep you.

And yes, I see all those corny things that your ex girlfriend writes on your wall, and even though it makes me a little bit sad to see how love just never seems to work out for you, mostly it makes me really happy. Are you sure you want to list Papa Roach as one of your favourite bands? Of course, to each his own.... but come on now.

So this is why social media creeps me out. Because I am terrified of people of the likes of myself out there. I am a psycho! In fact, I am so psycho that my ex told me that if we were to date (before we dated) that he would have to purchase a safe because he didn't trust me with anything in his room. This came after I stayed over for the first time and when he came home he noticed that his porn collection had been disturbed. No, it wasn't kinky. I didn't even masturbate. I was just creeping, creeping for creeping alone. Do you really think I feel comfortable knowing that there are people like me out there?

I sure hope you don't.
You should probably change your password now.