“It’s no use, he sees her / he starts to shake and cough / Just like the old man in / that book by Nabokov.”
When I first drafted this piece, I’d had a conversation on the phone app, Whisper, earlier in the day with a fool who argued that homosexuality and pedophilia were essentially the same thing, and that I should not “be mad” because he or she “could have mentioned bestiality” as an additional comparison. Although every respondent to the contributor’s initial post offered support for homosexuality and denounced pedophilia, I have to wonder why, in this day and age, anyone could possibly compare any consensual adult sexual interest to pedophilia. I was also curious how much the general public truly understood about pedophiles, so I did some research. (more…)
The first of April has come and gone, so happy 20th birthday, little brother. When I had originally drafted this piece on February 23, and it had been exactly six years and five months since you died. Google says that’s about 2,344 days — or, as you would prefer, 202,490,275,166,666,688 nanoseconds. Sounds like a long time, right? Some days, it feels like it. Other days, it feels more like just a week has passed.
I’m still mad you’re gone, but over the past few years, my anger and frustration have started to feel more… empty.
This post hit especially close to home for me, as this is an emotionally-charged topic which I have discussed at length with numerous romantic partners, friends, and family members. Goodness forbid that some of us value our individual identities as well as our familial ones. I say it’s high-time to ditch the name-change-for-women expectation.
Marriage. As a 21-year-old college senior, that’s something that feels incredibly far away. But realistically, if I end up getting married (which is something that I want to do), it will probably be sometime in the next ten years, especially if I want to start having kids in my early thirties. Of course, many people my age are already married or engaged, which is not in my immediate plans, but to each their own. Whenever I see someone new who gets engaged or married on social media, I see dozens of posts that say “Proud Mrs. [insert his full name here]!”, “Can’t wait to be a [insert his last name here]!”, or other exclamations. This got me thinking: Will I change my last name when I get married?
Quick note: I’m going to be speaking in a heterosexual context because I am heterosexual so that’s what I’m most familiar with and because…
The “second shift” is alive and well, unfortunately. This post hits the nail on the head about common in-home gender dynamics for chore-splitting and about marketing for these burdens falling exclusively around the necks of women.
Tammy Wynette had it right: Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. Especially when it comes to domestic labor. Tons has been written about how women, after coming home from paid work outside the home, commence “the second shift” in which they cook, clean, do childcare, and manage household needs. And despite the fact that the women’s movement is easily more than 40 years old, this situation is still pervasive. In the New Republic, Jessica Grose tells her own rather typical story:
“When it comes to housecleaning, my basically modern, egalitarian marriage starts looking more like the backdrop to an Updike short story. My husband and I both work. We split midnight baby feedings. My husband would tell you that he does his fair share of the housework, but if pressed, he will admit that he’s never cleaned the bathroom, that I do the dishes nine times out of ten…
I’ve thought (read: fantasized) a lot about my engagement, from the location to the surprise to the magazine-worthy pictures that will be posted on Facebook the next day. And in this fantasy, the proposal always includes an engagement ring (vintage, with a unique stone in the middle surrounded by diamonds. I haven’t thought about it too much though…). I’ve always considered an engagement ring to be a promise of a future life-long commitment, as well as a really pretty piece of jewelry. But where did this tradition even come from? And is a ring a commitment statement or something a little more misogynistic?
Valentine’s Day rapidly approaching this weekend means the big screen debut of Fifty Shades of Grey will at last arrive as well. Will I, a self-proclaimed sexuality geek, be attending a viewing?
At the lunch table this afternoon, my coworker described her lack of interest in both the books and the new film, and my boss agreed. Trying my best to not blush, I delivered a close-to-home-yet-pruned-for-work rant about my disgust with Fifty Shades and its heinously inaccurate depiction of the BDSM lifestyle. (more…)
As I prepare for a lengthy and fulfilling career as a psychotherapist, one of my greatest fears is how I will help suicidal clients. My thirteen-year-old brother killed himself a week before I turned seventeen, and although his suicide is a topic which regularly invades my mind and which I openly discuss with anyone who asks, I am concerned that in a professional setting, I may not be able to maintain the sufficient emotional composure which my client-therapist relationships will require. Suicide may always be too “close to home” of a topic, despite the time which has passed since Connor’s death. But even as angry, disappointed, and frustrated as I am with Connor for killing himself, his suicide forced me to reconsider my views on the subject. (more…)