Sally's Scribbles: WEP APRIL 2021 - FREEDOM MORNING

Sally's Scribbles: WEP APRIL 2021 - FREEDOM MORNING:   Freedom Morning is a watercolour by Claude Clark, the African American artist and art educator, painted in 1941. FREEDOM She shook her hea...

I always abhorred the idea that women were supposed to be content to be servile to men and, in fact, aspire to be so. The fact that my mother's name on her credit card was "Mrs. Professor Owl" rather than "Susan Owl" always bothered me. I secretly started considering myself a feminist when I was eight years old. 

Sly Likes: Feminist Poetry from H. Hennenburg

Image by Dimitris Vetsikas from Pixabay

The statue depicts Dame Millicent Fawcett (11 June 1847 – 5 August 1929), an iconic British feminist.

Today I encountered a thought-provoking poem entitled The Shape of Water. It was written by H. Hennenburg in 1998.

"But do you know that a woman's voice will change the world slowly? Light will creep in where she unburdens her heart."

This poem inspired a train of thought for me.

It makes me think of a line from the song by Ten Years After.

"I'd love to change the world but  I don't know what to do. So I leave it up to you."

Then there's another song that comes to mind, this one by Ani DiFranco.

"I am not a pretty girl, that is not what I do."

Here I am, a woman who sees the ways in which we could be kinder to one another and make the world a better place. But since I am a strange old bird and not pretty at all, I have a hard time making myself heard. The world doesn't tend to listen to women who look like me.

Then again, they don't tend to listen to the women that men fall all over themselves to get next to either.

~Sly Has Spoken~

Royalty-free image copyright Julia Henze. Purchased from 123rf.com

Notes

Sly Fawkes is your ornery old Aunt Cie's snarky political alter-ego.

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese, if You Please (Or Don't Please)

Content copyright 2020 by Cara Hartley

Please do not repost

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 3: Aunt Cie's Soapbox: Leave My Old Womb Alone (Choka)

Image by Solarus from Pixabay

lay off my old womb

I am not a candidate

for new motherhood

I can no longer achieve

reproduction, no

but it would not bring me joy

to endure the pain

of removing my old womb

it is my life choice

to keep my organs intact

despite a slightly

elevated chance that I

develop cancer

somewhere well on down the line

any womb is not

only worth saving when it

is available

to serve as incubator

~Cie~

Note:

The poem references the incidents of 2018 when my life continued revolving around my uterus despite the fact that the painful periods I had endured for 40 years had come to an end. In April of 2017, and again in April of 2018, I experienced post-menopausal bleeding, and in June of 2018, I underwent a D&C to determine the nature of the endometrial cells.

Had the cells been abnormal or the endometrial hyperplasia complex, this would have elevated my risk of future endometrial cancer by 36%, in which case I would have opted for a hysterectomy.

My cells were normal and it was simple hyperplasia. This only increases the risk of endometrial cancer by 1.6%. In the end, I felt that the risks posed by undergoing a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery no matter how casual a spin doctors try to put on it, were greater than opting for a wait and see approach. 

Post-menopausal endometrial hyperplasia can occur for a variety of reasons. It is more common in Caucasian women, in women over fifty, in women with a larger body type, and in diabetic women. I am a large Caucasian woman over fifty with a large body type who has diabetes. As it turned out, I also had a number of small fibroids in my uterus which were probably irritating the endometrium and causing it to overgrow.

My primary care physician wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

My OB/GYN wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

The gynecologic oncologist whom I consulted wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

This despite the fact that all of them quoted a very low increased likelihood of the type of hyperplasia I was experiencing ever developing into cancer.

I had one of those obnoxious trans-vaginal ultrasounds in February of this year which showed that the endometrial lining was still slightly thicker than normal but had greatly reduced in size and was within the perimeters of acceptable. I did not experience bleeding in April of this year. My OB/GYN wanted to do another D&C, but I said no. There was no presenting reason to undergo a procedure that leaves me feeling like someone has been up in my business with a cheese grater.

I consulted with a radiologist who specializes in a procedure called uterine artery embolization, which utilizes tiny radioactive grains to block the uterine arteries and cut off the blood supply to the fibroids so they shrink and cease to cause trouble. As opposed to a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery, this is a minimally invasive approach. The doctor told me I was not a candidate for the procedure because fibroids will shrink on their own after menopause, but she agreed with me that since I had not experienced post-menopausal bleeding this year, the endometrial thickness is within acceptable boundaries, and my hyperplasia is the low-risk variety for future development of cancer, a wait and see approach makes sense in my case. She discussed this with my OB/GYN and the gynecologic oncologist, and they agreed with her.

During The Year Of Focusing Way Too Much On My Uterus, I learned just how quick doctors are to recommend a hysterectomy to post-menopausal women. If a woman can no longer serve as a baby factory, let's just yank the old plumbing out, risks be damned. The fact is, major surgery is always risky although sometimes the risks of surgery are necessary. It is also a fact that the female reproductive system provides benefits to its owner even after menopause and unless it is malfunctioning in a way that makes life unacceptably uncomfortable or poses risks to a woman's health, it's best to leave it alone.

Uterus: it's not just for incubating infants. 

That's been Aunt Cie's Soapbox, Ladies! Hysterectomy is sometimes necessary, but it tends to be overprescribed, particularly in post-menopausal women.

Sly's Feminist Fiction Showcase: Ugly: Secrets

Copyright Ross Findon via Unsplash

Content Warning: Adult themes. Although this post contains no explicit depictions of sex, it does contain a brief mention of female genitalia using medically accurate terminology and a brief allusion to a sex act. If you find such material offensive, please do not read this post.

Raakel walked into the abandoned hospital building and down a flight of stairs to the basement. She wasn't really sure where she was going, but she felt that she had plenty of time to explore.

Although the basement was dark, Raakel could see everything. She looked in the employee break room and in the women's and men's locker areas, wondering exactly what she expected to find.

One of the men had taped a pornographic picture in his locker. A young Caucasian woman with bleached blonde hair and a heavily made-up face sat in a chair, her legs spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her left leg draped over the arm of the chair. One finger of her left hand covered her clitoris, pointing at her vaginal opening with a red-lacquered nail, while she sucked the index finger of her right hand with pouty scarlet lips, simulating fellatio. Her half-closed eyes with the smoky lids and overdone false eyelashes regarded the camera with an expression of mock desire.

Raakel felt a sudden surge of rage as every incident of rejection she had ever experienced came flooding back. She tore the poster out of the locker and threw it on the floor. She hated to admit the ugly truth even to herself: she secretly despised women who agreed to pose for such pictures because they made things all the more difficult for ordinary women. Men had unrealistic expectations of women as it was, the sluts who posed for pictures like this only heightened those expectations that women should be sex dolls with perfect bodies, spending each and every waking moment dedicating themselves to pleasing their masters.

 As a feminist, Raakel realized that the women posing for the pictures were not necessarily doing so because they truly wished to and that the pictures were altered to remove any perceived imperfections the model might possess, such as scars, blemishes, stretch marks, cellulite, or fat rolls. The woman in the poster she'd torn down might well have agreed to pose for the picture so she could make the rent money. She may even have had children whom she needed to provide for. She really wasn't the one to blame. Raakel hated the ugly secret prejudice she harbored and resolved to be kinder.

"We can't make a change by blaming women," Raakel reminded herself. "We need to start holding men responsible for their half-baked, impossible, and frankly ridiculous beliefs about what women are supposed to be."

"Some men are certainly pigs."

Raakel gave a start and gasped with surprise. A diminutive older man wearing a blue jacket, dark gray cargo pants, worker's shoes, and a knit cap stood before a doorway. Shaggy gray-brown hair poked out from beneath the cap, forming a veil over the man's eyes and brushing his collar. There was an orange neon sign above the door spelling out the word "change."

"My name is Vespasian Adomaitis," the man introduced himself. 

"I'm Raakel Viborg. You have my attention," Raakel replied, feeling foolish the instant she said it. 

The man smiled and gave a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, well, good! Always better to have another's attention when you have something to say, don't you find? Please, come in, won't you? I'll fix us a cup of tea."

Gem Moondreamer

Nikki Lee

Thalia Graves

The Real Cie

Prompts Used:

Imprompt

Ragtag Community

So Prompt

Word of the Day Challenge

Notes:

This is a chapter from Team Netherworld's sadly neglected WIP, Ugly, which is part of The Yadira Chronicles. It is the story of Raakel Viborg, an Upir, and her companion, Vespasian Adomaitis. We haven't quite decided what Vespasian is yet. He could be an angel, a ghost, or some sort of revenant, including an Upir. It's still up in the air.

New Feature Coming Soon: Sly's Feminist Book Review

Image by Dariusz Sankowski from Pixabay

Since reviewing books is a big part of what I do, it struck me that I really should be reviewing books important to the radical feminist perspective here on this blog.

Not all of the books I review will necessarily be focused on feminist activism. At times I might review a book where the focus is general politics, or a critique of the orange horror in the White House, or even a work of fiction. However, you can expect a fair number of books such as the one featured at the bottom of this post, which will, in fact, be the focus of my very first review on this blog!

If you are an evil gender-critical radfem who also happens to be a writer and you can give me a link to your ebook in the comments, please feel free to do so. I can't guarantee a particular time frame for review and I can't promise a positive review, but I can give you a little exposure. All I ask in return is a link to your review if you like it. 

Sorry, I'm not in a position to review physical books at this time. I'm in the process of moving and my particular vision issues make reading physical books challenging at this point. Thank you for understanding.

~Sly Has Spoken~

Image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com

Sly's Independence Day 2019 Question: Who Are You Supporting?

Next time you decide to support people who spout epithets like "punch a TERF" and "die cis scum," please remember that the person who popularized the term "cis" is Char the Butcher, a white supremacist. 

Not wanting to be affiliated with racists promoting violence is not being "transphobic."

At least think about who you are supporting. 

You are not supporting trans people who are just wanting to live their lives in peace.

You are supporting violent individuals like Char the Butcher.

Please read http://terfisaslur.com

Read it from top to bottom.

This is not hyperbole. This is a call to violence.

So-called "TERFS" are women. Thus, this is a call for violence against women.

Is this really "woke?"

"But I don't hate trans people."

I don't either, and I supported the TRA agenda until I realized what it was really about. 

It isn't about defending trans people from hate.

It's about promoting the TRA agenda.

A lot of trans people don't approve of the TRA agenda either, but they have been bullied into silence.

The TRAs are trying to take over feminism, and liberal feminists are rolling over begging to play ball with them so they don't look like a bunch of fat, unattractive, hairy-legged meany-mean man-haters.

Like the late Andrea Dworkin, I'm a feminist, and not the fun, sexy kind.

"If my feminism isn't intersectional and supporting this, that, and the other thing, who is it for?"

Women.

Feminism is for women.

Feminism does not have to encompass every other group.

We can be supportive of other marginalized groups and not roll them into feminism.

Stop supporting those who are calling for the silencing of women's voices.

Don't parrot calls to violence in the name of being "woke."

Think about what you're saying before you say it.

Think about who is telling you to say it.

This Independence Day, I proclaim that feminism needs to be free from the hateful agenda of TRAs.

~Sly Has Spoken~

Image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com

If my feminism is not for women, who is it for?

The Party: A Modern Tale of Prejudice and Revenge

Angela Bassett as Marie Laveau was my inspiration for Aunt Mila

Gabourey Sidibe as Queenie was my inspiration for Maria

The Party

Genre: Supernatural/Horror

Words: 1000

Content Warnings:

Body shaming, sexual assault, profanity, sexism

Rating: PG-13 

Note:

This story was originally published on my flash fiction blog for a Halloween  2018 short stories contest. Pretty much to a person, everyone who commented missed the point about the attitudes of sexism and sizeism and the intersection thereof, which led to the abuse of the protagonist. Readers instead fixated on my modernized take on the magical gender-swap revenge exacted on the protagonists. I was admonished that I should not refer to transgenderism in anything but the most glowing light.

I felt that my reference to gender reassignment was neutral and was only done to put the story in the twenty-first century rather than the nineteenth century. In modern times, gender reassignment surgery is a reality and people are more likely to believe that their relative who has been transformed into the opposite sex underwent gender reassignment surgery than that they were switched to being the opposite sex by magic.

Perhaps I could have done a better job of imparting this idea, but the story was not about gender reassignment. I was rather appalled that a neutral mention of gender reassignment surgery entirely overshadowed the actual point of the story, which was the way society objectifies women, despises and abuses larger women, and excuses the abuse and objectification of women.

There was absolutely no intention of belittling the struggles of transgender people when I wrote this story. I simply wished to modernize the setting rather than going with the old "it's magic, I don't need to explain shit" tactic.

The contentious tale follows below.

~Sly~

“Did they force you to their will, my girl?”

Ludmila Lum’s angular face bore a staid expression, but Maria could see the little vein in her aunt’s set jaw pulsing. Aunt Mila’s warm brown eyes had gone black as the sky over an angry sea, the kind of sky that produced storms which sent ships to their graves on the ocean floor.

Mila’s expression softened at the worry in her niece’s eyes. Her bony hand enfolded Maria’s soft, plump one and a gentle smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s all right, Mee-Mee. I am not angry with you. Even if you were drunk or high, even if you were flirting with all the boys. Now, you tell your Auntie Mila, did those boys force you to their will?”

“It wasn’t…sex,” Maria said softly, looking down at her feet. “I suppose I am making too much of nothing, as the University President said.”

Maria’s soft, round face, usually so sweet and happy, reflected shame and self-loathing. Ludmila tried not to project anger, lest her sensitive niece believe the ire was directed at her. Maria was a big girl in a world that made no bones about its hatred of soft, pillowy bodies. Ludmila worked hard to teach Maria to love herself as she was, to give her shy, plump niece the confidence that reflected her loving spirit. Ludmila was enraged that awful people had exploited the innocent girl’s attempt at sociability in an unspeakable way.

“They did not put themselves inside me, Auntie,” Maria explained in a quavering voice. “When they first invited me into the party, they were nice enough. It was guys and girls together, just showing off their costumes, just everybody dancing and having fun. The boy who invited me in, I started to think that perhaps he was falling in love with me, as he seemed only to have eyes for me in those first two hours.”

“Does this boy have a name?” Ludmila inquired.

“Omer, Auntie,” Maria revealed quietly.

“Omer Raines? Doctor Raines’ boy? The one you’ve carried the torch for since you were ten years old?” Ludmila demanded.

Maria nodded, her body shuddering as she wept.

“All these years he was my friend,” she sobbed. “In school, he defended me whenever anyone made pig noises at me or called me names. I thought we were destined to be only friends, but at the party, he seemed to echo my feelings. I gave thanks to Erzulie for the gift. ‘His heart echoes my heart,’ I thought, and at that moment, I was so happy.”

“He brought me to the front of the stage where the band was playing, and he told me to dance,” Maria continued. “’Show the world how beautiful you are, Chere,’ he insisted. ‘Dance for us!’”

“So, I danced, and at first, it seemed that all the years of hate and shame for this big body were burned away. Here I was, dressed as the Queen of Hearts, but a kind queen, not one calling for heads to roll. Everyone was clapping and cheering, and I was dancing, Auntie! I was getting down, and everyone was getting down with me, and no-one was laughing at me. But then the fraternity president gave a signal with his hands, the band changed their tune, and so did everyone else.”

“Any special tune they played?” Ludmila inquired, and by the look in her eyes, Maria was sure her aunt knew the tune she meant.

“The stripper song, you know, the one they always play in cartoons and stuff. I thought it was a joke like maybe some of the fellows would drop their trousers and do a moon, all in fun like that. But then one of the boys called out ‘take it off, Fat Girl.’ I flipped him the bird, still laughing because I thought perhaps it was a joke. But then they started pulling at my clothes, boys and girls alike. There was a blonde girl wearing almost no clothes at all who slapped me and said: ‘you don’t belong at a party, you pig, you belong in a barnyard!’”

Maria shuddered as she dropped to the floor and rested her head against her aunt’s lap. Each of her niece’s violent sobs threatened to shatter Ludmila’s heart.

“They tore the front of my dress and exposed my breasts,” Maria revealed. “The boys were grabbing my breasts and slapping my backside. The skinny blonde girl kicked me in the backside and said ‘get your fat, ugly ass away from our party, Petunia Pig! This party is for people only!’”

“Omer followed me from the party,” Maria continued. “He asked where I was going. I said I was going to the police. He tried to stop me, said it was only a joke that got out of hand. I slapped him and told him to never talk to me again. The police just said I should have known better than to go to such a party. I went right to the home of the University president. He told me that he was sorry it happened and that he would talk to the fraternity President, but he asked me to keep things quiet because we would not want to bring shame upon the school. I have always believed in a just and fair world, Auntie, but I see now there is no justice for people like me.”

“There will be justice,” Ludmila reassured her niece. “You rest now, my love.”

While Maria slept, Ludmila worked her spell.

“Justice is served,” the Voodoo priestess declared, leaning back in her chair.

A day later, there were multiple articles about the sudden rash of gender reassignment surgeries among students and faculty at Bayou College. The wives of both the University president and the chief of the campus police publicly expressed their shock, and local doctor Henri Raines declared that he’d no inkling that so many students, including his own former son Omer, were seeking gender reassignment surgery.

~The Real Cie~

Sly Says: You Can't Fix Stupid

The following is a transcript from a rant on Tumblr inspired by a couple of ignorant idiots. Said idiots' names have been changed because I don't feel the need to have them attacked. They're probably too stupid to educate anyway.

Tweedle Dumb:

I hate feminists because I hate supremacists of all types.

Tweedle Derp:

Amen!

Sly Says: (from slysfreespeechspace.tumblr.com)

What in the actual hell are you smoking?

My guess is that you have never encountered the sorts of problems that feminism has worked to correct over the years.

Perhaps you are unaware that women still make 70 cents for every dollar that men make on average.

Perhaps it doesn’t bother you that the average woman in the United States not only has to work a full time job plus take care of the majority of the household duties.

Perhaps it doesn’t bother you that women are in danger of losing all the rights that teh ebil, ebil feminists have worked for under the misogynist regime of the puppet president Lord Dampnut and his handlers.

In any case, your statement is either woefully naive or willfully ignorant. You would do well to educate yourself. 

Feminism is not “female supremacy.” That is a load of crap spread by MRA’s, a group of “men” threatened by the idea of women being treated as equals, helped along by ignorant children on forums like Tumblr who simply don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.

Feminism is, very simply, “a range of political movements, ideologies, and social movements that share a common goal: to define, establish, and achieve political, economic, personal, and social rights for women. This includes seeking to establish equal opportunities for women in education and employment.”

If you are against that, then you are a person with whom I hope never to associate. 

If it is being a supremacist to desire equal treatment and equal opportunities for women, then a supremacist I am.

Merciful Heaven, the fact that I still have to explain this shit in the twenty-first century gives me one hell of a headache.

Reblogged to my Supernatural fandom blog:

I replied to this bullshit on my Sly’s Free Speech Space tumblr and unfollowed the person who had reposted it in the first place as fast as I could.

I just can’t even.

Of course if you look at the URL of the OP, (which was in the form of Classic Rock Band Dude One Luvs Classic Rock Band Dude Two) you may recognize the “C0ckles mindset,” that is, shipping a couple of men that they think look hawt together is the main driving force in their life. Never mind that neither of the men that this one is shipping look anything like the images of them from thirty years ago any more. (insert eyeroll) Or that they are not involved with each other that way.

I don’t usually bother commenting on shit from tumblrs by teenagers who have no fucking idea what they’re talking about (apologies to the teenagers who aren’t like this), but as someone who started seeing the need for the feminist movement as far back as when I was 8 years old, no joke, I despise bullshit like this, likely coming from a privileged teenage girl who has benefited from the work done by women in the feminist movement. 

Girls in sports? Thank the feminist movement. Women in politics? That’s the feminist movement. All the cool kick-ass female characters? You can thank the feminist movement for that.

Perhaps girls like this would like to go back to a time when women weren’t allowed to vote, when we were considered to be the property of our fathers and then our husbands, when our choices for careers (before marrying) were teacher, nurse, or secretary. I for one would not like that, and will fight tooth and nail to keep it from ever becoming that way again.

But hey, as long as you can ship a couple of guys who look sexxiii together, who needs that stinky ole feminism anyways?

~Sly Has Spoken~

Copyright juliahenze@123rf.com

Sly Says: Stop Calling People Sluts

Emily Ratajkowski

From the following article:
https://www.yahoo.com/style/emily-ratajkowski-calls-out-journalist-for-slut-shaming-melania-trump-203207055.html

"The unabashedly political Emily Ratajkowski wore a pink pantsuit to a NYFW 2017 event. Melania Trump has an unlikely celebrity in her corner. Model, actress, and outspoken body-confidence and feminist advocate Emily Ratajkowski is stepping up to defend the first lady against a slut-shaming attack she recently overheard."

A few things:

Stop using the term “slut shaming.” We need to not be calling people sluts.
Emily Ratajkowski is not a feminist, she is a women’s liberationist. They are different things.
Women’s liberation is about being “sexually liberated.” Feminism is critical of the objectification of women. Objectification is not empowerment.
This being said, calling Melania Trump a “hooker” is rude and uncalled for. I honestly don’t care a fig about the photos she posed for in the past. She is not the one wreaking havoc on the United States. Her husband and his cabinet of deplorables are. Focus on them.

~Sly Has Spoken~

Copyright juliahenze@123rf.com

Happy 52nd birthday to me.

Sly Fawkes Talks: Another of the many reasons why

Another of the many reasons why I'm a feminist

Why I marched in protest of the new fascist, woman-hating regime, even though it damn near knocked me out (but that's a story for another time)

Why I will fight for equality until the day I'm carried out feet first for the last time

Trigger warning for discussion of sexual assault

My maternal grandmother was coerced into a sexual relationship by her supervisor, who threatened her with loss of her job if she didn't comply. He knew she had two daughters depending on her paycheck. My mother told me that he even made my grandmother have sex with him while she was on her period, as if he wasn't humiliating her enough. My grandmother later had a psychological breakdown and ended up in the mental hospital for several months, putting added stress on my mother who was trying to finish high school as well as care for her younger sister.

I hope the bastard who did this is burning in whatever hell there may be.

~Sly~

Copyright: juliahenze / 123RF Stock Photo