“Be wicked, be brave, be drunk, be reckless…

…be dissolute, be despotic, be an anarchist, be a suffragette, be anything you like, but for pity’s sake be it to the top of your bent… Let’s live, you and I, as none have ever lived before.” ~ Violet Trefusis to her lover Vita Sackville-West (who never did leave her husband) (early 20th century), quoted in Janet E. Hardy’s book, ‘GirlFag’.

In Which I Rant (and everyone is shocked).

Couldn’t stop LOLing and nodding (and loving her!) while reading this ‘rant’ by a really great friend of mine, Sonia Stanger. We met in Kindergarten, and have been talking loudly to each other ever since. She was in fact just here in Montreal last weekend for an NDP youth conference and we had hell of an adventure hang night (although I’m a bit worried she still might be pissed at me for breaking one too many beer bottles on the dance floor, ha woops!) But seriously, this sentence! “Women, as a collective, are like the sublime and unfathomable and unknowable goddamn raging ocean.” …

Stanger Than Fiction

Oh why hello there! Fancy meeting you here. What’s that you say? Shouldn’t I be studying for a certain stats final just now? I think you and I both know that that’s why I’m even here, so I wouldn’t complain if I were you.

Just a little procrastination soapbox time for your Tuesday eve’. I should probably write a post about my weekend and Montreal and how much I adore the city and how Canadians need to battle against mounting cynicism, but that sounds altogether too timely and logical, and rather unlike me. Just go back and read my post about Amsterdam, and insert “Montreal” where it says “Amsterdam”, and you’ll be set. TO THE SOAPBOX!

Today, I read a comment online that I wish I could say was shockingly uncommon. Instead, it left me groaning and face-palming by its sheer, disheartening echoiness through the ages:

“I just like…

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read this: What it’s like being a teen girl

“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