MagentaFeelings

ugly-feelings:

sometimes i just want to get a fake orange spray tan and bleach my hair blonde and wear hollister and a&f and american eagle and uggs exclusively and wear frosted lipglosses and make ducklips faces and care about jersey shore and gossip girl. because apparently “nice” dudes hate when girls that because it’s “fake”, it’s “slutty”, it’s overdone/tasteless/”dumb” but fuck you. everything is fake. all persona is persona including what you’ve been conditioned to perceive as a “neutral”/”inoffensive” appearance.

because i don’t want your “respect”, and i certainly don’t need your advice on how to “respect” a body. i don’t need your fake concern about skin cancer and burns on my scalp when my body doesn’t even feel like mine sometimes. when breast cancer becomes selling sex to teenage boys who wouldn’t tell you about the lump in your breast they felt while they were feeling you up. your concern for my body will always be mediocre until it is mine to create/destroy/create, and even then it wouldn’t even matter because you do not inhabit this flesh, or these organs, or this mucus/snot/bile/blood/spit/fluid/fluid/fluid. so stop trying to crawl into my bed of skin, asshole. stop trying to own my ugliness. you can’t have it. too bad, so sad.

i don’t want you to wait before i leave the room to talk about how gross i am. i want my skin to be greasy and leave big orange stains on every man who touches me and who i choose to touch. i want my hair to make you puke. i want my clothes to remind you of how capitalism lives in tube tops and booty shorts just as well as it does in jeans and a t-shirt or whatever the fuck makes you feel like the girl you wanna fuck is real “authentic”, real “down-to-earth” or whatever. i want to remind you that every picture is posed. no expression can be pure when you can see the camera and the camera can see you. i want you to know that i spent three goddamn hours straightening my hair and putting on my eyeliner over and over again and removing it over and over again so there’s light grey rings under my eyes and when i reapplied my lipgloss for the 20th time tonight in the backseat of my best friend’s car it hit a pothole so it’s smudging against my lipliner and i’m still not “sexy” to your pretentious jonh lennon art school ass. my labor is MINE, and it’s ugly because god loves ugly. i wasn’t put on this earth to give you a hard on. i want to scream and drink and grind to shitty club music because i want to scare the living shit out of you. i want you to go home and post a facebook update about how “our generation is doomed” and get twenty likes from all your pretentious john lennon art school friends and all your fedora-wearing self-entitled pasty sarcastic bros and all your edgewatch xvx police officers and all your “nice guy” indie rock microbrew date rapists who all secretly wish they could make a man want to remove himself from this earth just by getting a spraytan.

i don’t want you to want to fuck me, BRO. i want you to have to look at me. i want to be the bright orange flesh you don’t want to fuck but you also can’t ignore. i want you to be very, very scared of what is going to come out of my mouth. i want you to cringe at the sound of my voice because it is both too feminine and too loud. your disgust makes me even louder, even more powerful. and it’s so funny to me, so funny to me, because you know and i know we are both just pretending we aren’t aware that deep down you so badly wish you could be a monster, too.

domesticterrorism:

Especially for the sake of certain brocialists on my dash.

• Especially for the sake of certain brocialists on my dash.

  • A drunk girl, even if she’s dressed slutty, even if she went out with the intention of hooking up, is not responsible for her own rape. Just like people with watches at the farmer’s market with the intention of selling them are not responsible for them being stolen. The thief, like the rapist, is at fault
  • Drunk people are not able to adequately consent.
  • Never assume a girl who “cries rape” is only doing so because she “regrets sex.” You don’t know, and assuming you know someone’s experience better than they do is denying that person’s autonomy.
  • Under no circumstance is sex without adequate consent not rape.
  • Telling women to be responsible for their actions, while ignoring the fact that men are capable of not raping a girl dressed provocatively is holding a sexist double standard.
  • Reiterating the last point. Men choose to rape. It’s not an arbitrary consequence of “being a whore.”
  • Reiterating that last point: if you fuck a drunk girl take responsibility for fucking a drunk girl. You took advantage of her inebriation and she was incapable of consenting. You’re a rapist. 
  • Do not assume women dress sexy for men. Their reasons are theirs and theirs alone. Assuming they do is assuming women exist for you.
  • “Freedom of speech” does not entitle you to say whatever dumb shit you want without scrutiny or criticism. You have just as much the right to spew nonsense as we have to tell you you’re full of shit.
     
  • And finally: There is nothing “radical” about anything I’ve just said.

I disagree that a person cannot consent to sex when drunk. And actually I find the implication quite offensive. If a women goes out for the night, looking to have fun,  get drunk and get laid, to say that she is unable to consent and telling her that she has been raped because of her own choice is patronising and dehumanising and effectively reduces the role of the women to that of a child.

Now obviously there are occassions when someone is literally too drunk to consent - and that is when she is unconscious or incoherent. Otherwise she is an adult person in charge of her own body - regardless of any other factors.

(This is obviously assuming that she has chosen her own level of inebriation and has not been drugged, etc)