Family life from the feminist perspective; can women have it all? Can anyone?
Yes, Dad, #MeToo
Yes, Dad, #MeToo I have been trying, and failing, to speak my truth for years. To my parents. To my friends. To my coworkers. Every time I open my mouth to speak, I choke. The rare few times I have opened up to family members and close friends, I’ve been rebutted (“Wait, didn’t you sleep with that guy anyway?” “You were drunk.” “Well why didn’t you call the police?”). Eventually, you develop survival techniques for living with your secrets. Some of us happen to favor the unhealthy ones. My personal favorite is: If I distract myself by keeping my glass of [insert alcohol of choice here] full, I won’t think about what happened to me. The problem with my coping mechanism of choice is that, if you’re an unpredictable drunk like me, sometimes all you’ll be able to think about is the one thing you’re trying not to think about. That, or you end up speaking your truth before you’re ready, in fractured pieces to unwilling participants (which, in my case, includes my parents).
Dear Working Moms, It’s Time to Stop Feeling Guilty
Whether you’re a stay at home mom or a working mom, you can admit the lifestyle has its vices. By the title, I imagine you know which one I’ll be speaking about. Let’s stop there though - this will not be an argument on which role is harder, which role is better, or anything of that sort. Being a mom is hard and being a mom is awesome. Period.
The Beginning A few days before my eighth-grade year started, my life changed drastically. Nobody ever believed me. Nobody ever listened. I was the kid who “asked for what I got” and was never helped.
Case Number 171,039,522
My name is Itzel Christina Villarreal and I am 22 years old. I want to share my story to the world about how I was sexually assaulted by my own cousin, Manuel, four years ago.
Please Grow Up To Be a Fool
Sometimes we get into moods where we think too deeply, we muse too strongly, and we feel just too much. And so we must get it out. We must express it. And so on 4/7/18, after a particularly rough day, my mind wandered into its darkness as I watched a wonderful movie, and came out with the following.
Rapist in What Used to Be My Home
It was a few days before Christmas. The season of giving, as we all call it. My mother and I were driving to have lunch at a local bagel shop that we quite enjoy. It was a Sunday, coldest day of the year so far. It was -20 degrees F before wind chill.
Pain Part I
Pain. Pain is something that lets you know you're alive. At least that's what I used to tell myself. My story is long and painful. If anyone has even read the book The Child Called It, then you partially know my story.
Sit down, kid. So, you’re going out? Anyplace fun? Sure. Look. I don’t want to make you nervous or anything like that. I know you’ve probably seen TV and you know that traditionally, this is the point in the evening where you’re supposed to come off respectful and I’m supposed to threaten your life.
Reflection on Self-Esteem
Most women (and girls) have found themselves trapped in a negative mindset, criticizing their imperfections, the flawed put on a spotlight, or have even made a thoughtless remark about someone else. Carving out more reason to distrust the good and the beautiful still there in the mirror. This is where to seek mindfulness, learn to push past that negative voice, and accept the beautifully imperfect and love the soul beneath! Cherishing it slowly and with time, heal the misconception that only outward beauty determines respect and esteem.
Marriage & Children? No Thanks.
I can't tell you how many times people with children tell me that one day I will have babies of my own. My response is always the same: "I don't want to have children, I love kids but they just aren't for me, I would not be able to take care of them properly." To which they always respond: "You say that now, but trust me, you will change your mind." I will NOT change my mind. I am mentally unable to care for another human being and that will never change no matter what. I have no control over that.
What to Say Before You Move Out
There were things that never really made sense to me. Just as anyone else, I too wanted to "fly" the nest once I turned 18. I was a poor excuse of a student when I reached my senior year in high school. However, by chance or fate I had managed to get a scholarship at a school that was four hours away from my hometown. When I got the letter in the mail, I couldn't believe it. Growing up in a small town, where everyone was either pregnant, dropping out, or selling drugs, to me this was huge. I still remember the exact words I told my mother, as I showed her the letter. She was proud, the kind of proud that makes her talk about it for hours over the phone to our grandparents, aunts, and uncles in Mexico.
I'm Just Not Fun Anymore
As we grow up, we go through many stages of life, the good times and the bad, the hard times and the easy. And ultimately — the fun times, and the not so fun times. But if we're lucky enough, we find someone to share all of those experiences with. And hopefully, this person will be with you through the thick and thin, loving you for the person that you are. I really wish this for each and every one of you. And I also wish that throughout your life you'll be able to shut down bullshit propaganda ads like the one below from Durex.