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Archive for the ‘turns out I'm a feminist’ Category

I’m with her

Monday, November 7th, 2016

I always have been. I thought she was a better choice than Obama approximately 1000 years ago. I might have been wrong, since the Obama’s administration has been pretty fucking solid, but she might have had the same opportunities and made the same choices.

I’m so, so scared. I mentioned I’ve been crying, right? About politics? Endlessly? The Rachel Bloom video makes me cry. The FiveThirtyEight election forecast page makes me cry. Our Colorado end of life proposition makes me sob like a bad actress in a bad romantic comedy (that is to say, at an unbelievable level).

I’m having a hard time mustering up a lot of concern for most of my local initiatives, honestly, and it’s probably like that in a lot of places. I did research and vote all of them (except the tax ones, I mostly just vote yes when they ask if I want to pay more taxes (<- not a joke)), but I’ve forgotten about most but 106 (end of life). Oh, and the single-payer healthcare thing. That’ll be interesting. And the minimum wage hike, actually? Ok, fine, I’m concerned about all of these things (and in favor of them).

But mostly I’m concerned that a woman who should be in the middle of a trailblazing, history making, well deserved run for the presidency is actually surrounded by the still burning dumpster fire remains of our national political process.

How did we get here? How did we as a country land in a place where a man who is openly misogynist and racist as the TIP OF HIS TERRIBLE ROTTEN ICEBERG is being lauded, if even if mostly in small but loud communities? It doesn’t look like he’s going to win, but, you know. Brexit. Polling error. A 1/3 chance of Hillary losing to him (as of this writing) is about twice her odds of losing Russian roulette, if she decided to go that way.

Anyway. I’d be with her no matter what. This whole ‘it’ll be politics as usual’ complaint is fucking fine, especially if those politics are the ones we’ve had for the last eight years. But considering her opponent is a man who is actively making the world worse just by opening his mouth in public

Holy wow am I with her.


dogs aren’t babies we all read NY magazine

Thursday, November 3rd, 2016

We were car shopping this evening, and our salesman would not stfu about babies.

For real.

(Our cars are fiiiiiine, just one of them doesn’t move so well and hasn’t since June, ndb.)

Backstory: our salesman was adorable, and Irish (what up totally undeserved by me brother!), and very very very shamelessly self promotional. “Our Yelp page is basically only reviews of me.” Also: “Oh, look at this picture of my 20 month old!”, he says, handing me his phone where there was a indisputably cute picture of a baby. “He just got mad at my wife because the sour cream on his macaroni and cheese isn’t yogurt!”

“Cute”, I tell him.

He read the room, and asked if we had dogs.

He was prepping for a pitch on the leather replacement package, ya know. If we weren’t going to respond to baby puke, we’d respond to unclipped nails.

The thing is, at some point after that I mentioned we were recently married and then he went the way a surprising-not-surprising amount of people have gone (since the wedding THREE AND A HALF WEEKS AGO (Oct 9th future Emma in case you’re referencing this post to help you remember your anniversary, don’t tell Crockett)): joke-not-joking about when we were going to have babies.

“When you have a kid, you can put this side down … oh right, I mean your dogs,” and then a wink.

“The leather can stand up to a lot, but spilt formula … or spilled groceries, for you,” and then a wink.

(These were not actual winks. He didn’t drop one eyelid while looking at us, because no one good does that anymore. Only bads. Write that down. Nice people you know can wink at you in a cute way, but strangers (particularly of the sales variety) are no longer allowed to wink. It’s gross. You’re a bad if you do that. These were spiritual winks.)

Crockett didn’t even notice. I’m talking to him as I write this, and he’s genuinely confused. He remembers the comments (there were more than listed above), but has no sense that they were assumptive. Pervasive. Patriarchal.


Am I so prepared for people to start asking about babies that I’m seeing that shit everywhere? Or was he trying to sell a couple he perceived as being in the baby zone? Or was the baby zone a straight up assumption that I really will have to deal with 4-ev-er?

(post referenced in title)


flip and rewind

Tuesday, January 12th, 2016

So I super wanted to write about this young woman who posted a petition on asking stores like Forever 21 and Urban Outfitters to stop selling “inappropriate” clothing, but it took me forever to find the link and I’m tired so … maybe tomorrow I’ll have a fully thought out response. In case I don’t get to it, though, in summary: Petition writer, there is a point in the life of every woman (or should be) when she realizes that policing other women with regards to their obedience to patriarchal guidelines does none of us any good. Therefore, you should shop at the many stores that sell things that you want to wear, and then wear those things. AND, you should let other young women shop where and wear what they want to wear.

(To be clear, she is well spoken and I get that she’s excited about defending something she feels strongly about, and that’s beautiful. I wish I’d been so brave at fifteen. However, when she says things like “I and girls everywhere want to be able to be trendy and classy, modest but stylish,” and “clothes currently being released by beloved brands for girls tear away the innocence we deserve to treasure, and while we should look classy, young, and beautiful, we instead come across as cheap,” she’s undermining the women her age who chose to wear those ‘cheap’ clothes. She HAS choices that meet her needs, they’re in stores everywhere. The text of the petition has a very ‘you evil stores are making us into bad girls but we’re good girls’ undertone. That’s problematic for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that telling young women that good girls are modest is a huge part of rape culture. Oh, and of this.)


Sunday, January 10th, 2016


We went with unconventional engagement rings, which I’m really really pleased with for a few reasons. One, because they’re goddamn awesome. Two, because we picked something out together that was fun, and I think it’s nice to find fun in relationships, right? (Stay tuned for my new column on Cosmo called Totally Original Things No One Has Ever Said About Love Before.)

But three, and three should maybe be more like THREE, because it’s the biggie, engagement rings are a fucking intense topic and we navigated them well, I think. Why intense, you ask? Well, I’ve previously noted my thoughts on rings themselves, asking for permission, and proposals in general. If you don’t wanna go read through those, the general gist is ‘if you’re doing it because you want it and not because you’re supposed to, then you do you …’ BUT, with a strong edge of ‘are you suuuuuure you want it because you want it and not because the Wedding Industrial Complex told you to want it?’

I’m really irritating sometimes when I’m sure I’m right.

So, now, Crockett and I are engaged. Betrothed, even. And, you guys, I wanted a shiny diamond. I feel like any writing I do about feminism lately has been about how it’s hard, and this didn’t make it any easier. I was prepared for a non-traditional engagement, and then as soon as we started talking about it I was prepared for something shiny and pretty. I was found a shop where I loved basically everything, and he and I paged through it and looked at shapes and stuff. (Grey diamonds. Rose gold. How do these things get into your head when they’re getting popular but you don’t know they’re getting popular?) And it was stressing him out, trying to maintain a level of surprise while picking something I’d wear forever, and it was stressing me out, because … well, see the links above. I don’t actually believe that decision-by-dude acceptance-by-chick diamonds-are-forever marking-the-bride proposal tradition thing.

So, we picked rings out together. He’s wearing one too. My feminist analyst brain is comfortably relaxed with the whole thing, and our rings have Edith Pilaf lyrics and motherfucking skulls on them.

And the shiny diamonds I have pinned on the secret ‘that big party’ board on my pinterest? Of course I want them just a little. They’re beautiful. But not as beautiful as the rings we have.

I’m guessing this won’t be the first time feminist Emma and likes-pretty-things-and-being-a-princess Emma have this problem during this whole ‘getting married’ process.