when the only tampons available at a gas station are size super super plus with cardboard applicators (literally cruel!) and, having to change your tampon in a bush between bus-metro-bus transfers on an hour and a half trip because not even the transfer stations in the middle of nowhere have public washrooms. Dude!
“Blondie Bitch.”
Some drunk guy called me late one night in a mutual friends kitchen.
Moving in closer, eyes wild in the reflection of my own, he said,
“Suck my cock, Blondie Beeeaatch!”
Placing a hand on my shoulder, pushing firmly, nodding towards his crotch.
“Suck my cunt first then.” I said,
raising an eyebrow, almost bored, without missing a beat.
“YOU’RAAAaaaaaa CUNT!” he spat,
and I stood:
still, smirking, staring him square in the face.
Eyeing me up and down, he grit his teeth, he bit his lips,
“Will you suck my cock Puuuuuhleeeeeze!?”
His words like grunts, forced through cigarette breath.
If nothing else, I knew, he was way too wasted to get hard anyway;
making his request really kind of funny,
laughable, cute, emasculating.
“Hmm, not today.” I shrugged,
twirling my long blond hair, taking another swig of my whisky mixed drink.
“Can’t say I wont ever, but not today.”
Our friend, effeminate in a silk floral robe,
was bent in half laughing, cackling at this, he loves a show.
“Tomorrow then?”
“Will you suck my cunt tomorrow?”
“Well, I don’t know now do I…” he snarled.
“Right, so, if we see each other tomorrow, we can discuss it.”
“He really respects you.”
the friend said later, earnest.
I laughed at this too.
I know that sometimes, to some people, in some states,
I’m nothing but a mouth and a cunt, hair and lips and legs;
and to them I say, suck it.
I recently wrote a piece for SEED Sustainable Style’s blog! this is an excerpt:
Living in the age of ‘the first world’ and what a friend of mine has referred to as ‘a million waves’ of feminism, doesn’t mean that we can expect to just sit back and enjoy the ride, as if everything will be alright. Many institutions, including corporate advertising companies, and *Ahem*, our current Canadian government, are in a pretty constant effort to push back the gains previous waves of feminism have made. For the same reason that companies and politicians continue to sign off on the use of ecologically damaging products and practices, because they are more immediately profitable; I personally feel that it’s crucial for us to recognize that the oppression of women’s sexualities, self confidence and personal right to a sense of worth free of a husband or child(ren), is profitable in our current first world – capitalist economy.
“I have never stopped being reminded of my there-for-men status. I am reminded when I am violated in my sleep, or groped in a bar, or held down by a longtime friend. I am reminded when I refuse conversation with a strange man and he spits in my direction, or calls me a “bitch.” I am reminded when I am asked why I wore such a pretty dress if I wasn’t trying to “pick up.” I am reminded when I am told to be less angry and more agreeable. I am reminded when I talk about my lived experience and am told to “stop being so negative about everything.” I am reminded when young girls are bullied so severely by men who wanted to see their bodies that they commit suicide.”
What it’s like being a teen girl. by Emma M. Woolley
Good luck with Madeleine. 