He thrusts his fists against the posts

prolongedeyecontact:

[This is a heartbreaking story about what happens when abortion is restricted and stigmatized. Legality is meaningless unless pregnant people can actually access safe, legal abortions. There’s nothing pro-life about giving pregnant people no options. Essay by Dr. Jen Gunter. From her bio: I was born and raised in Winnipeg, Canada and graduated from The University of Manitoba School of Medicine in 1990 at the age of 23 (I started young). In 1995 I completed my OB/GYN training at the University of Western Ontario and moved to the United States to complete a fellowship in infectious diseases at the University of Kansas. After completing my fellowship I continued my studies in pain medicine. I am board certified in OB/GYN in both Canada and the United States. I am also board certified in pain medicine by the American Board of Pain Medicine and by the American Board of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation. That’s why I have so many letters after my name.]

I was in clinic when I heard the overhead STAT page to the emergency room.

As I sprinted down the stairs, I ran through the possible scenarios. I wasn’t on call, so the day to day gynecologic emergencies weren’t my purview. I hadn’t operated on anyone in the past few weeks, so unlikely to be one of my own patients with a complication.

Logically there was only one conclusion.

A nurse was holding the staff entrance to the ER open. From the look on her face I surmised this was to save the minute or two it would take to punch in the numbers on the lock and inquire at the desk for patient’s whereabouts.

“Down there,” she pointed.

On the gurney lay a young woman the color of white marble. The red pool between her legs, ominously free of clots, offered a silent explanation.

“She arrived a few minutes ago. Not even a note.” My resident was breathless with anger, adrenaline, and panic.

I had an idea who she went to. The same one the others did. The same one many more would visit. A doctor, but considering what I had seen he could’t have any formal gynecology training. The only thing he offered that the well-trained provers didn’t was a cut-rate price. If you don’t know to ask, well, a doctor is a doctor. That’s assuming you are empowered enough to have such a discussion. I was also pretty sure his office didn’t offer interpreters.

I needed equipment not available in an emergency room. I looked at the emergency room attending. “Call the OR and tell them we need a room. Now.” And then I turned to my resident. I was going to tell him to physically make sure a room, any room, was ready when we arrived, but he had already sprinted towards the stairs. He knew.

We didn’t wait for an orderly. A terrified medical student and I raced down the hallway with the gurney. The amorphous red pool dripped onto the floor as we rounded the corner to the elevators.

The double doors that led to the operating rooms swung open. “The urology room. They’re between cases,” my resident shouted.

I saw an anesthesiologist out of the corner of my eye. “You. Now!” Most emergencies can wait a few minutes to check in at the front desk and for the anesthesiologist and nursing staff to take stock of the situation. This was not one of them.

The urologist, whose room I appropriated, blustered and sputtered in behind me. “What the fuck are you doing barging in, I’ve got another case…” but as we moved my patient over to the operating table and he saw the blood, he stopped. He grabbed a tray of instruments and opened. “I’ll be your scrub.”

The anesthesiologist was pissed. Not really mad, more riled up than anything. No one likes to be blind sided, no matter how well intentioned. And he probably thought I was over reacting. That is until he put in another intravenous.

“Fuck.” What looked like blood tinged water flashed back.

And now they all understood what I knew the second I laid eyes on this patient. Abortions that go horribly wrong bleed out. Quickly.

The room filled with surgeons, nurses, and students eager to help. To do something. Anything.

I opened the vagina and by feel clamped through the holes on either side of the uterus where I knew from experience I would find the uterine arteries, the likely site of the puncture. I didn’t know which side, and at that point it didn’t matter. I just needed to stop the blood flow. It took less than a minute. She would have bled to death if I had opened her belly.

As the bleeding had stopped, it was up to the anesthesiologist to fix the hematologic tempest. A vascular system so traumatized by sheer blood loss that it had run haywire and lost the ability to clot. Disseminated intravascular coagulation. This is how many young women die when an abortion goes wrong.

My hands started to shake. Everything from leaving my clinic to this point had been one crescendoing adrenaline-fueled reflex. Now that there was nothing physically for me to do the energy had to go somewhere.

I looked around. A forest of IV poles, laden with blood instead of fruit. Everyone not directly helping was running back and forth to the pharmacy or blood bank. A nurse and another surgeon started to clean the floor. We were all bonded by this nameless woman whose life we were desperately trying to save. And we were bearing witness, because we knew if she died it was unlikely anyone would read about her in the paper. It was unlikely her family would protest. A myriad of potential reasons. Shame of the abortion. Distrust of government. Fear of immigration officials.

The urologist, a grizzled older man with whom I had nothing in common except a medical degree and this patient, rested his hand on my shoulder. It was a kind, fatherly gesture. The weight was comforting.

“You done good.” He said. And then he added, “Those bastards.”

I knew he was referring not just to the physician who did this procedure, but to everyone in society who had contributed to a disadvantaged woman finding herself in such a desperate situation.

(via pixyled)

face-down-asgard-up:

femmedroid5000:

ravenzoe:

rookiemag:

This 13 year-old talking about why slut-shaming is wrong is a Rookie hero.

This girl is awesome. #whosaidall13yearoldsarestupid?

I LOVE HER.  This gives me chills.  So powerful and spot on!  I am a proud feminist.  FIERCE!

SAY IT GIRL

Because I seem to enjoy finding Things that Are Terrible: freejinger is currently discussing this dude who is still resentful his wife of 10 years slept with a guy before they started dating. (via golden-notebook)

(via golden-notebook)

feministdisney:

“Well,” said Milo, pushing his glasses up with a huff, “Your entire civilization forgot its system of writing even though, at the very least, you and your father were both alive before the flood that apparently destroyed your knowledge.   Why blame me for a massive plot hole that seemingly only exists to propel the ‘Mighty Whitey’ trope?”

(read the full feminist review of Atlantis here)

(via newwavefeminism)

downlo:

A good response to common complaints from men about ‘female privilege’ like ladies’ nights at bars and not being part of the draft:

There are hundreds of examples of minor societal norms — men paying for the date, men taking the combat roles in the military — which potentially give a small tangible benefit to women. These little trifles may create a perception that privilege is available to everyone: “Men get some privileges, and women get others. Hey, I guess it’s all just a wash!”

So the first negative consequence of a “real” female privilege would be to muddy or blunt arguments about male privilege…This would be an incredibly misleading perception, because male privilege is the real prize, and any female privilege (such as it is) is a ragtag collection of shitty consolation prizes. Women don’t get to be CEO or President or Senator or general — but hey, they get their dinner paid for on that date. Go, female privilege! And yet the existence of any potential privilege can be a distraction from the reality that every important real privilege is reserved for men.

Now imagine that you’re selecting between bundles of rights and privileges from behind a Rawlsian veil of ignorance:

Door number one is membership in a group with a 90%+ chance of being on the Supreme Court, a 100% chance of being President, a 90% chance of being CEO or major business leader, an overwhelming majority in generals and scientists and the wealthy and powerful. Door number two is membership in a group that gets free drinks on Thursday, draft immunity, occasional compliments about being pretty, and affirmation and validation about the importance of the feminine role. No one in their right mind would choose Door Number Two.

(via pixyled)

tinydragongina:

stfuhypocrisy:

tehsunshine:

therapsida:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

my brain just fell out my head

via Buzzfeed

I’m going to vomit.

Someone please tell me this isn’t real life.

This is the part where my lyrium tattoos flair and I put my fist through some fuckers’ chests.

What the fuck even is this bullshit?!

(A+ for the DAII reference though.) 

(via golden-notebook)

fuckyeahfeminists:

I boycotted watching the VMAs because he was performing.

PROPZ TO YOU JAY-Z. Your gender politics may not be entirely feminist-friendly, but I must say I am SO. HAPPY. to have someone show they still remember and abusers should not be celebrated.

(via shannonsunrise)

downlo:

This whole piece is amazing and totally rings true for me. Men generally tend to be intimidated and/or intrigued by my intelligence and education. They react either by not even attempting to ask me out or trying to somehow domesticate me, i.e. involving me in long, exhausting debates in order to prove that I’m not that smart.

What I’m actually used to men doing is attacking me once they start intellectual fights they can’t finish. I’m used to men putting me in the friend zone because they find my smarts intriguing but not sexy. I’m used to men straight up belittling and insulting me—calling me stupid, unattractive, or using “feminist” like an expletive—in order to get the upper hand when they feel intellectually outmatched. 

 

(via golden-notebook)

seventypercentchanceofscience:

There is a difference between women and men. No, neither should be discriminated against depending on their gender, but men and women are not equal- they are different. We are not unequal in the sense that one is better than the other. Equal means the same and men and women are certainly not the same. We both deserve respect but cannot be treated equally because of our differences. I would be quite upset if someone I knew treated me the exact same way as everyone else because I am not the same (or equal) to everyone else - I am DIFFERENT! Please treat me and my sex as such!

There is a distinct difference between treating men and women different because they are not the same, and treating them negatively because of their sex. Don’t try and make people treat me equal to men. Don’t try and stop people from pointing out those differences and accenting my individuality. I am different and I am proud.

For further insight onto the difference between men and women based on the scientific difference in thier brain chemistry, please read The Female Brain or The Male Brain by Louann Brizendine M.D.

http://www.amazon.com/Female-Brain-Louann-Brizendine-M-D/dp/0767920090

Sincerely,

A Woman

There is a difference between you as an individual and you as a woman. If you want the world to baby you and infantilize you based on your gender in your own personal relationships then have a party doing that.

I however, would prefer equality. Fuck biological determinism. Fuck demanding equality and special treatment at the same time. Fuck body policing and slut shaming and unequal pay and treating me as less intelligent. Fuck the hundreds of ways women are put down by our patriarchal society that doesn’t want to change.

I will never stop fighting inequalities. Whether that be sexism or any other kind of -ism. You are welcome to not want that for yourself. But I will not stop fighting for myself and for others like me. 

dr-grumbles:

agoosedrankwine:

I am a feminist, and yes I am angry.

• One in four of my female peers on campus is the victim of rape or attempted-rape. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• The stories of those women who are raped are routinely questioned and doubted, and the women are often blamed for what happened to them. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• Conservative politicians are campaigning to take away women’s rights to reproductive autonomy, deeming us too stupid to know what to do with our own bodies. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• In 2010, I still only make 77 cents for every male dollar (for the same work!). Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• Simply because I am a woman, my value as a human being will often be decided upon my looks, not my intelligence, humor, passion, and drive. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• LGBTQQIA citizens are not treated with respect in my country. The government that “represents” us does not honor the way we live or love. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• According to a recent survey, five to seven year old girls reported that they’d rather grow up to be “hot” and “cool” rather than smart. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• My male cousin just became a father, and got zero paternity leave from work because we live in a gender-role-loving country that assumes only women are the nurturers, and devalues fatherhood. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• Women make up about half the population, but only 17 of the 100 US Senators are women. Zero of the 100 Senators are black. My government is not representative. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
•  When I express my anger over all of this infuriating, unacceptable shit, people still ask me if it’s that time of the month. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• In 2010, I get hostile reactions when I declare myself a feminist. When I fight for sex equality, people get angry with me. Why wouldn’t I be angry?
• When I log onto facebook, I see a status that says “It isn’t rape if you say just kidding afterwards!” with five “likes.” Why wouldn’t I be angry?

What makes you angry? What makes you smash patriarchy?

gpoy

 I hate it when the privileged tell marginalized people that they shouldn’t be so angry. I’m pissed the fuck off and everyone else should be too. (Also that 77 cents statistic is only for white women vs white men. If you put a latina woman in the place of the white woman it drops to a little more than 50 cents on his dollar.)

(via pridenotprejudice)

lipstick-feminists:

Fuck yeah, feminists!: I don’t understand people who say they’re not feminists.

finelines:

Especially when the people saying it are women.

I get that you have some sort of warped idea in your mind that a feminist is a butch, bra-burning, man-hating ball buster, but if you stopped being lazy and pulled your head out of your ass for a few seconds, you’d see feminism for…

 I know of lots of people who don’t identify as feminist simply because feminism erases them, demeans them and treats them like shit in general.

Feminism has not been, and still is not, a very friendly place for people of low socio-economic status, people of color, genderqueer people and trans* people (to name a few).

I identify as feminist but acknowledge it has failed many people and treated many people like shit. I want to change feminism into something that works for the people it marginalizes, in the way that it purports itself to do. Despite this my friends who do not identify as feminists and I have very similar views on most issues but I respect that they don’t want to be identified as such and would never force them in the manner of “bad news you’re a feminist”.

So please don’t accuse them of being lazy, or having their heads up their asses. Maybe take the time to discuss with someone the reasons they don’t identify that way. It’s not always because they believe in the feminist stereotype. Additionally there are more than just two genders so don’t go around saying “both genders” when there are people who identify as being genderqueer, intersex, genderfluid, and some trans* persons who feel they fall outside of the gender binary. Lots of people feel they fall into that binary but there are also many that don’t. So please stop erasing those outside the binary.

(Source: areyoulikecheckingmeout, via lipstick-feminists)

The description of this product is

Be a nighttime Ninja on the prowl in this drop-dead sexy Saki 2 Me adult women’s costume. You might even need the dagger to fight off overzealous suitors, so bring it on. Practice your martial art skills and more in this exotic costume and let him eat sushi.

Ignoring the bad cunnilingus pun let me repeat that this costume is adverstising itself by saying

You might even need the dagger to fight off overzealous suitors

Oh. Yes. Needing to fight off potential rapists to the point where I have to use a knife has always been my Halloween dream. The Halloween costume industry has always been a shitty terrible awful thing but usually not this blatant about selling itself with rape culture. Not to mention some serious cultural appropriation..

genderqueer:

Most compelling thing I’ve read all day; it gave me goosebumps. I’d love to send this to everyone who doesn’t “get” why gender is so important to trans / genderqueer / gender variant people.

Julia Serano is such a talented writer.

yellowbeesteward:

“If one more person tells me that “all gender is performance,” I think I am going to strangle them.

Perhaps most annoying about that soundbite is the somewhat snooty “I-took-a-gender-studies-class-and-you-didn’t” sort of way in which it is most often recited, a magnificent irony given the way that phrase dumbs down gender. It is a crass oversimplification, as ridiculous as saying all gender is genitals, all gender is chromosomes, or all gender is socialization.

In reality, gender is all of these things and more. In fact, if there’s one thing that all of us should be able to agree on, it’s that gender is a confusing and complicated mess. It’s like a junior high school mixer, where our bodies and our internal desires awkwardly dance with one another, and with all the external expectations that other people place on us.

Sure, I can perform gender: I can curtsy, or throw like a girl, or bat my eyelashes. But performance doesn’t explain why certain behaviors and ways of being come to me more naturally than others. It offers no insight into the countless restless nights I spent as a pre-teen wrestling with the inexplicable feeling that I should be female. It doesn’t capture the very real physical and emotional changes that I experienced when I hormonally transitioned from testosterone to estrogen. Performance doesn’t even begin to address the fact that, during my transition, I acted the same, wore the same T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers that I always had, yet once other people started reading me as female, they began treating me very differently. When we talk about my gender as though it were a performance, we let the audience — with all their expectations, prejudices, and presumptions — completely off the hook.

Look, I know that many contemporary queer folks and feminists embrace mantras like “all gender is performance,” “all gender is drag,” and “gender is just a construct.” They seem empowered by the way these sayings give the impression that gender is merely a fiction. A facade. A figment of our imaginations, endlessly mutable and malleable. And of course, this is a convenient strategy, provided that you’re not a trans woman who lacks the means to change her legal sex to female, and who thus runs the very real risk of being locked up in an all-male jail cell. Provided that you’re not a trans man who has to navigate the discrepancy between his male identity and female history during job interviews and first dates. Whenever I hear someone who has not had a transsexual experience say that gender is just a construct or merely a performance, it always reminds me of that Stephen Colbert gag where he insists that he doesn’t see race. It’s easy to fictionalize an issue when you’re not aware of the many ways in which you are privileged by it.

Almost every day of my life I deal with people who insist on seeing my femaleness as fake. People who make a point of calling me effeminate rather than feminine. People who slip up my pronouns, but only after they find out that I’m trans, never beforehand. People who insist on third-sexing me with labels like MTF, boy-girl, he-she, she-male, ze & hir — anything but simply female. Because I’m transsexual, I am sometimes accused of impersonation or deception when I am simply being myself. So it seems to me that this strategy of fictionalizing gender will only ever serve to marginalize me further.

So I ask you: Can’t we find new ways of speaking? Shouldn’t we be championing new slogans that empower all of us, whether trans or nontrans, queer or straight, female and/or male and/or none of the above?

Instead of trying to fictionalize gender, let’s talk about the moments in life when gender feels all too real. Because gender doesn’t feel like drag when you’re a young trans child begging your parents not to cut your hair or not to force you to wear that dress. And gender doesn’t feel like a performance when, for the first time in your life, you feel safe and empowered enough to express yourself in ways that resonate with you, rather than remaining closeted for the benefit of others. And gender doesn’t feel like a construct when you finally find that special person whose body, personality, identity, and energy feels like a perfect fit with yours. Let’s stop trying to deconstruct gender into nonexistence, and instead start celebrating it as inexplicable, varied, profound, and intricate.

So don’t you dare dismiss my gender as construct, drag, or performance. My gender is a work of non-fiction.”

The above is an excerpt from “Performance Piece” by Julia Serano, from the book Gender Outlaws edited by Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman. Excerpted by arrangement with Seal Press, a member of the Perseus Books Group. Copyright (c) 2010.

thanks dee!

 Just thought I’d throw this out there: Any asshole who says “Gender is performance” and acts smug about taking a gender studies course? Is fucking wrong. Not only because of the above arguement. But because they’re fucking up the quote as well.

Judith Butler, who is the originator of this idea, does not say “gender is performance”. The actual quote is “Gender is performativity”. Based upon actually reading the book in question I don’t think Butler was literally saying that all gender is just a performance. What she is saying is that what causes us to cast things in the light of being either male or female is this performativity. So she’s really saying we should stop percieving acts as having a distinctly male or a distinctly female context.

This is not to take away from the above point which is really awesome and I totally agree. A lot of Butler’s writings do ignore transgendered/intersex/genderqueer persons which is something that needs to be included under then umbrella of feminism. It just really annoys me when smug shitheads say the wrong quote, because really, if you’re going to be smug about it at least know what you’re talking about.

(via )

malefeminists:

brave-slut:

rangeenhaseena:

at the beginning i was like “duhh..duhh..” but then she said interesting things. worth watching..

hustleforchange:

advertising’s image of women. watch this and get your mind blown. 

WATCH. THIS.

Yes. 

 I had to do a little excited flail when I saw that they made a Killing Us Softly 4, because Killing Us Softly 3 is my favorite documentary. Just fantastic. You should give this and 3 a watch for sure!

(via )

aethersphere:

I have a few notes for you that you might all like to consider.

A) “Post-feminism” is absolutely not the same thing as Third Wave. Just because we both happened after the 90s doesn’t mean that Third Wavers share copies of Katie Roife’s books around and blame the victims of rape for not “trying…

 A) Post-feminism is so just a term people use to try and convince the world that feminism has achieved its goals and is no longer needed. (Read: Dirty lie)

C) Joking about males being raped. Nice. It’s not acceptable to joke about the rape of females and I bet all the people in your WS class would be up in arms if that happened. It happens, and in some ways is even more isolating because of shit like this, it’s even more erased and thought to be fake than is the rape of a woman.

On another note you should leave your shitty university and come to mine where the women studies courses are the best things ever.

Though admittedly we were guilty of kind of excluding the trans-woman in our class. But she pointed that out and (SHOCK) we listened and started to alter our language to be less cissexist.