September 28, 2014

1) You’re empowering.
2) I like your voice.
3) You’re strong.
4) I think your ideas/beliefs matter.
5) I’m so happy you exist.
6) More people should be listening to what you have to say.
7) You’re a very warm hearted person.
8) It’s nice seeing such kindness.
9) You’re very down to earth.
10) You have a beautiful soul.
11) You inspire me to become a better person.
12) Our conversations bring me a lot of joy.
13) It’s good to see someone care so much.
14) You’re so understanding.
15) You matter a lot to me.
16) You’re important even if you don’t think so.
17) You’re intelligent.
18) Your passion is contagious.
19) Your confidence is refreshing.
20) You restore my faith in humanity.
21) You’re great at being creative.
22) You’re so talented at ____.
23) I don’t get tired of you the way I get tired of other people.
24) You have great taste in ___.
25) I’m happy I stayed alive long enough to meet you.
26) I wish more people were like you.
27) You’re so good at loving people."

— 3:29 p.m. feel free to add to this!  (via expresswithsilence)

(Source: angryasianfeminist, via momosaur-rex)

September 22, 2014


please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you


(Source: askpillow)

September 10, 2014
A History of Violence

I watched a movie yesterday named “Boyhood”. I don’t know what post-traumatic stress disorder is like, I imagine what i felt is probably only 10% what PTSD must be like. Sometimes when you feel things too strongly, you feel even more isolated when you think “Well, i bet others have it much worse” because you don’t know how much worse it can be. When you’re hurting, you live in a black hole of pain and you can’t see past the event horizon.

Anyway – there was a scene in the movie, where the children were hiding from a drunk violent father. Wait, no, it started before then. There was a scene in the movie, where the mother was on the floor, it was unclear if she had been hit. I thought “Please, I don’t want the movie to go in that direction.” But it was going in that direction, in the same way as i could detect when a family fight was about to spark off. Then there was the scene with the children hiding in their bedroom, and i begun to cry. Afterwards, i was discussing the feeling, and it’s not like normal “oh, sad movie scene” tears, which are ultimately cathartic and just pass you by after the credits roll. My stomach hurt, i felt sick, i felt like i was having a panic attack, i almost had to leave the theatre. But i felt silly for feeling this way, so i stayed. But as soon as i left the theatre, it all came out. Even now, thinking about it, it comes back.

This morning i read about Ray Rice and his wife who he punched in the face, the past few weeks i’ve read about harassment online, women who are threatened out of their homes, i’ve watched a lot of rapes on Game of Thrones. A lot of stuff has been on my mind. But mostly, i’ve thought about how alone seeing violence makes me feel. People only seem to care about victims after there’s proof, a video, etc. No one believes a bruised face is proof, no one wants to see proof, and people who are hurt, they don’t want to share it often. Being a victim feels like a cage. Why don’t abused women leave? I don’t know, but when you don’t leave physically, some other part goes.

I often feel very broken inside. I thought i’d write a short history of violence, i think it might make me feel better to just see it out there.

- Age 3 or 4 . My father throws a vase across the room at my brother. It breaks in a million pieces. It was my stepmother’s mom’s vase. It was a gift. My father didn’t care. I was hiding under the bed. My brother cursed in school.

- Same age, maybe older. My mother (my stepmother, but i don’t refer to her as that) comes out of her bedroom with cigarette ashes all over her face. My father threw an ashtray in her face. Later on, i learn, my mother told my father she would leave him if he did that again.

- 6 years old? I see my mother (biological) at an mental asylum. There are shambling people on the grass. My mom is pretty calm. We play checkers. I feel disturbed by the environment, when i leave, she stays where she was sitting. Later on, me and my brother agree we probably shouldn’t have seen her like that. Later on still, my sister reveals to me how she was abused by the orderlies there. I feel angry, but she’s never told me about it. Many of her schitzophrenic delusions are of men coming after her. Its her reality.

- A family joke, but disturbing to others, my brother hits me in the eyeball with a toy crossbow gun. My father breaks the toy crossbow on my brother’s head.

- Younger than 10, i throw up on myself and my bed. I have to sleep on a bare mattress.

- Younger than 10, i didn’t eat my food. For some reason, i didn’t change fast enough before being hit, so i had to sleep naked. It was cold. My parents think i made that one up. I don’t think i did.

- As i get older, the violence goes away, but the intense fights don’t.

- Around 11, i’m still playing with stuffed animals and my sisters, and my sister’s dollhouse. My father begins asking at dinner if i’m a faggot. Whenever there were fights in my house, i’d protect my mom, he asks me why i protect her more than him? When he calls me a faggot, my sister defends me for an hour. “It doesn’t matter if he wants to play with stuffed animals, he’s 11″ I quietly did the dishes.

- I was in school fights every year of my life. I didn’t win really any. In 9th grade, i started a fight trying to be a bully, i got my teeth punched in. I decided to not get into fights after that. I still was a bully though, just with smaller kids.

- In college, i stay with my girlfriend in texas. When they fight, they speak in the same tone of voice and don’t insult each other. I felt so jealous.

- Towards the end of college, i discover my mother is addicted to drugs. I feel abandoned by her. For about a year or 2, we don’t really speak. She goes to rehab. When she returns, my parents get into a fight and my father hits her, the first time in years. My mom tries to stay with family, but no one wants her to stay with them. She ultimately stays a hotel for the night. She calls me, asking me for advice. I begin crying, i don’t know what to do, i don’t WANT to give advice to my mom. I want my mom to be my mother. I tell her i can’t be her therapist, i’m just her son. I hate drugs, i hate violence. My sisters want her to leave my father, my brothers kinda shrug at it.

- 23 years old, I go to a party at my upstairs neighbor. I wanted to have sex with one of them, didnt care which. I found them both to be attractive. When i arrive, i discover they invited many guys from around the block. They were all members of the Bloods gang. I felt awkward, i knew that a house full of young men (11-35 years old) with alcohol and 3 women was not a very safe environment. When one of the women left with a guy to have sex, me and the remaining person realize she hasn’t returned after we see the guy. I find her in the bathroom being sexually assaulted by multiple men. It was probably the scariest night of my life. It didn’t end for a few more hours.

I never have felt the same after that. I never felt right about everything i already had experienced. It kind of made everything i already didnt like in my life, feel darker. The next day, i called out of work. My boss didn’t understand why i was so upset. When i finally came into work, 2 days later, my boss’s sister, who was 64 years old, just held me for awhile and i cried and i cried. I always cry when i think about it. I hate that night. I tried to be friends with my neighbors after that, but i always felt like i was lying or faking or being phoney or just acting wrong.

- A year later, i began dating someone who was also a victim of childhood abuse. Every time we had sex, that was a part of our lives. It broke us up.

- For years, since i have been sexually active, i’ve had trouble with sex. As i get closer to women, i become less able to perform, i think its cause i end up treating them more like moms than like girlfriends. While casual sex, one night stands, and fuck buddies have just become how i have relationships. When i have a girlfriend, i have to disclose to them eventually my years where i went to adult video stores, the STDs i’ve gotten, the serial cheating. Although i went to therapy for 4 years in order to get some control, i still have destructive behaviors that i have to always pay attention to.

- Currently, i’m 28. I am dating someone. Sex is mostly okay. But when i began crying next to her in the movie theatre, while watching Boyhood, i didn’t want her to see. Afterwards, she gave me her scarf to cry on, and i just felt she didnt understand. She made a few jokes, and i began laughing and feeling better. I thought “I don’t have to tell her all about it,”

I think its probably better that she doesn’t fully understand. I think its better that she just hands me her scarf to cry on.

previously published on Idol Box

July 8, 2014


Josh Fadem & Wendy mccolm
"Getting It Off"

(via twiststreet)

May 25, 2014
Silence is a Loaded Gun

Elliott Rodger killed six people. Already, there are articles citing his “disturbing internet footprint”. Elliott Rodger killed six people, and his internet habits are not unique in the least. In fact, a cursory glance at any comments board on any page on the internet, will show you the disturbing internet footprint of countless young men. Elliott Rodger is not an anomaly, Elliott Rodger is the inevitable conclusion of believing you are owed the world, owed affection, and that you own women. Violence is always the inevitable conclusion of believing a man is above women and simultaneously threatened by women.

It is the paradox of male identity crystallized in the pick up artist community, but is a concept that is at the heart of sexist traditional masculinity. Rape threats are met with shrugs. Men use rape as the only tool of complete psychological impotence. Whether as a threat of violence or as actual physical violence, it is the only act that can not be checked by calm, rational discussion. No debate can stop violence, call-out culture can’t stop violence. Asking your brother, friend, acquaintance to not make rape threats, won’t stop violence. And so all our discussions about violence face the same dilemma – powerlessness. There are wolves in society, and lambs look no less appetizing after a lecture on rape-culture.

Rape is used in the animal kingdom by males who are unable to compete effectively to spread their genes. But in modern society, where procreation must be sublimated to distorted hyper-sexuality, the most base impulses still remain. When men are faced with their own obsolescence they react in the same way as out-competed males in the animal kingdom. What is more useless than an animal who’s genes won’t thrive? What is more useless than a man who’s been taught he alone will inherit the earth, and that he earned it.

Many will call him a misogynist, but misogyny isn’t like a dude who converted to Islam. He is as much of a misogynist, as he is also an American. These colors don’t run, because these colors run the world. We are all misogynist, because to function in a broken system, one must bend to the system. The nails that stick out, get hammered down. The narrative of success is the story of the White Man, and sure, you can have your own success stories, but best believe when they make your “Based on a True Story” film, it’ll be directed by a white man, written by a white man, and possibly your part will be played by a white man. We must all break ourselves, break our identities, to succeed in America.

I wrote before how i need feminism to try my best to not be as much of misogynist. In fact, not too long after i wrote that piece, i had someone write me to tell me that everything i wrote was bullshit, cause they knew for sure multiple instances where i was a sexist pig. But that’s exactly the point, there’s no one out there who’s gonna win the gold star for Best Feminist. And if you’re a dude, you most certainly don’t deserve any accolades for trying your best to not be your worst. It is precisely the worst of us, who will do the most harm. It is the worst of me, who I’ll have to apologize for. It is the worst of all men, that we have to be forced to choose between believing the worst of ourselves, or the weakness of ourselves. The dichotomy of masculinity MAN UP or PUSSY OUT. When you’ve chosen from this rigged system, you find that you’ve been ripped off.

But this is part of the public conversation of “What/Who’s a feminist?” On the outside, the public perception is completely wrong, Feminism equals Misandry. On the inside, Feminism is constantly policed from within on a checklist of “Are you or have you ever been, a member of the Misogynist party?” If you don’t got your papers in order, you’re feminism is revoked. All we are left with, is Feminism as another meme. A meme that does nothing more but propagate itself like a virus. When years and years of academic discussions of racism/sexism/any-ism gets condensed to soundbites, 140 character tweets, and tumblr reblogs, we are no longer affecting change. We are now the problem. Feminism has failed every single time a guy decides to say “I prefer to call myself a Humanist,” when that dude is more likely to call himself a WWF fan on a job resume. The conversation is not reaching the population. In fact, i believe the conversation is becoming more and more insular.

Feminism has failed when half the discussion during any news bit with a feminist, is spent discussing “Why the word feminist?” To me, its the equivalent of asking a trans person about their genitals, every. fucking. time. there’s any news about a trans person that isn’t their murder or humiliation.

The meme-ification of -Isms, means there’s no actual analysis of our own positions. We are right, they are wrong. There’s also never any exposure of our vulnerabilities. There’s no examination of the enemy, and let me be bold, but a man killed six women because he was lonely yesterday. The enemy is real, and we’re losing. Many people slam the Pick Up Artist community, myself included. But i don’t know how many conversations i’ve had with people who have never read one pick-up artist book, or hung out with a pick up artist, or had any kind of conversation with one that didn’t start out with the premise that they were gross and sexist. The most famous book, “The Pick Up Artist – the New and Improved Art of Seduction,” is at its core, a sales marketing manual repackaged with sexist terminology. It is genius marketing in itself, because sex doesn’t sell (the porn industry is bleeding since porn went free) sexism sells. Get rid of the sexist coat of paint, and you have the concept of negging, and girls be like “DOES THAT EVER WORK ON ANYONE?” The answer is Yes and no. When you’ve got a product to sell, even if it’s the same old shit as last year, you tell them that their dishes aren’t clean enough, their linens aren’t white enough, their skin isn’t young enough, their waist isn’t thin enough. Every single ad directed at women is a form of Negging. And the advertisers have proven that yes, it does work on enough people to make a profit.

Elliott Rodger is the death of the salesman. But rather than running out and killing himself to exercise some degree of control over his life, the new Willy Loman goes out and blasts some people before leaving the stage. Willy Loman in Boston, Willy Loman in Sandy Hook, Willy Loman in Virginia Tech, Willy Loman in Aurora, Willy Loman in Columbine. A society-wide delusion, that all men are created equal, that all men have earned their position, that all men are glorious. Every time it happens, we have a discussion on gun laws. Pointless – a man will find a way to kill six people because he is lonely, with or without a gun. We have a discussion about misogyny. Pointless – we are all misogynists and the individual agents are as obsolete as paper-encyclopedias. We’ll focus on the lone gunman. We have a discussion about feminism. Pointless – a lone gunman isn’t listening. He has tuned out from any conversation, years ago.

We get so stuck on having a conversation about the conversation, that dudes go there whole lives without ever considering “Do you want all mothers to be treated how you love your mother? Do you want all sisters to be treated how you love your sister?” I am careful to say, not how they treat their mothers or treat their sisters, but how they love them. We never have the conversation about how we fail ourselves and others, because the way we treat people is different than how we love them. If you’re a dude that calls himself a humanist, then you have to start treating women as human. Humanism should be enough. “All men are created equal” still found plenty of room to not include most men, women, and children.

Elliott Rodger made a series of videos, put them on the internet, so that someone would listen. He was lost in the background noise of all the other men who are just as vile as he. He was lost in the static between radio stations. We are out there, as lonely as a Numbers Station, rattling off a series of cryptic messages that only the recipients can understand. To an outsider, the Numbers Station is eerie and disturbing. We are paranoid about it’s function, suspicious that it must be sinister. Many Numbers Stations use the voice of a woman or a child, which makes it even more unsettling. A man makes a youtube video, “Why do girls hate me so much?” and many will try to reply and answer, and now seek to explain why he answered himself with a gun, after killing six others.

He didn’t just kill six people. He killed 4 men, 2 women. Misogyny doesn’t mean he just hated women, he hated other men just as much. He called them losers. In the cruel arithmetic of his mind, the women were simply objects. Why did these objects hate me? Not “I hate these objects” He still coveted them. The men, they didn’t have his looks, his $300 shades, his BMW, his clothes. All objects. He killed the owners of objects, then killed himself, because he owned the one thing every man has to get rid of - virginity. 

It all adds up, not just to him, but for so many men, that we aren’t worth anything at all. But if we’re supposed to be at the top, you lose faith in everything else. Nothing is worth anything if i’m worthless. A voice that is not worth listening to, ‘mansplaining’. But until feminism finds a way to reach the most vile, we remain sheeps to the slaughter.

How do we try to elevate ourselves from the position of livestock? How do we lower ourselves to speak in the language of a savage? This is what is missing from any discussion, from every conversation where we end up speaking past each other. For me, i drop the academic parlance. I’m not a women’s studies major, i’m not even a college graduate. I drop the moral high ground. I’m not good at ‘examining my own privilege’ cause that’s the god damn privilege of privilege.

I drop the language-policing. I don’t care if you say racist or sexist shit around me if we’re homies, being offensive is often a bonding experience for any groups of people, and context can’t be forgotten every time i hear a word i don’t like. Its not up to me to tell you how to act, it’s only up to me to show you how i act. We’d like to believe that if we simply took out all the offensive words from our language, we’d suddenly be a nicer group of people. That’s fucking idiotic. The offensive word treadmill will always continue. No one cares that I just used the word “idiot”, because we found a newer word to be offended about. It’s why i don’t use the term “People of Color” because i’m not an alien from another planet. I’m a very light brown, i’m not some color chart you buy at the paint store. And when a grandma says “colored person” to describe a black person, I don’t have very good logic to explain why “Colored Person” and “Person of Color” exist as polar opposites on the acceptable terminology scale. All i have is the history, and the knowledge that in 50 years, we might be saying “Melanin deficient” to describe a caucasian.

I drop out of calling people out. Even when i’ve done it, i know that its 100% about me and never about who i’m calling out. When Brendan McCarthy (a comics dude) said some racist shit, yeah, i “called him out”, but not because I particularly cared that he said some racist shit, but because he was drawing the covers to the comic i was working on. Cash rules everything around me, CREAM, Get the dummy, don’t bother my dollar bills y’all. I won’t ever pretend that I want to change his mind, that i will change his mind, or that i’ve helped make the world a better place. I’ll call someone out if it affects my day-to-day life, because being offended is not about making change. Being offended is about me. Its not enough to just be offended. Congratulations on doing nothing. Being offended doesn’t mean you care. Actions are the only things that create change, and no, twitter doesn’t count. I’m only as much of an ‘activist’ as “How can i draw this comic differently according to my beliefs?” Thats as much as i care about any issue. I’ve got no authority on this subject.

I drop the qualification selection, I’m not gonna ask you to explain to me why you won’t call yourself a feminist, even though when asked “Should women have equal rights as men?” the answer is “Yes”. The answer is all that fucking matters.

I once was hanging out with three dudes. Two guys my age, one guy was in his forties/fifties. One guy from the east coast, the other two from the midwest. We were all out drinking beers, at a bar with a racist name, all talking about the shared experiences of different types of violence. Getting in a fight, having a fight for fun, getting hit by our fathers, and then, tragically, the oldest man spoke about getting beat and humiliated by his father and mother. It was disturbing to hear, but it was a necessary experience to learn for the rest of us, just kinda casually discussing some minor scuffles in our young lives. It was some real talk, and then the oldest man started dropping the N-bomb. I respected the guy, and he respected me, and so as a joke, i said how i voted for Obama because he was black (That’s actually true, but it was still phrased as a joke at the time). He went crazy! He asked me “I know you’re a smart guy, talking to you, i know you got your head on straight. But you must be lying. I know you’re not a liberal!” On and on. And so i asked him “Is it possible that talking to me is better proof of what a liberal is, than what you’ve decided in your head?” I’m a cuban american from NJ, my mom is blacker than me, my dad is more spanish than me, i’m also mostly liberal, mostly straight, and if i spent the whole time explaining exactly what those all meant to me, he’d never would’ve been vulnerable to admit that the violence in his life should have never happened to anyone.

What haven’t we learned, every time we tune out, turn off, drop the convo? For men, there’s a war going on inside, no one is safe from. Silence is a loaded gun.

previously appeared on IDOL BOX

May 15, 2014
Dear Mister Misses

I have black friends, spanish friends, and I’m a mix of mexican and white. But there is nothing more I hate than driving through the ghettos and seeing people not take care of where they live. Waiting for the government to do something about it. Is that racist?

The government is a magical thing. They are simultaneously the most and least capable group of people on the planet. Which government? Any government. It allows us to blame a higher power for all of the bad things and good things we believe exist. But unlike God, we can prove that a government exists. But also unlike God, it is not nearly as powerful as you think it is.

The delusion that poverty is deserved, that poverty may also be a result of of a person’s race, and that a symptom of that race is laziness, isn’t just racism…it’s stupidity. 

You get so angry that you have to give your precious dollars to feed hungry kids and hungry old folks (which makes up more than half of the recipients of food stamps), you get so angry that minorities are just acting like savage animals, and you get so angry that ghettos exist taking advantage of the poor gullible Government. The same government that you probably believe is manipulative, greedy and taking advantage of you.

There’s a reason it’s called government housing, because the gov’t came up with the idea. Its no coincidence that ghettos look like Prison Industrial Complexes, that the creeping police cars and closed circuit cameras function as a virtual panopticon. The ghetto isn’t an accident, and the people living there aren’t waiting for the gov’t to help them out, they are wishing someone would open the cage. Instead, you drive on by, like a man gawking at Ota Benga, believing he’s taking advantage of the zookeepers. 

Your language implies that you believe these people are parasites, but they are not.The ghettoes aren’t the parasites on society, the completely corporate controlled government is the parasite on the people. And hundreds of years of racist policies have been designed to disenfranchise whole segments of the population. These same racist policies haven’t stopped at just affecting one race, it has become full on class/race/gender warfare. 

Keep the proles hungry and stupid, fighting each other, and they will never rise up. You should’ve read 1984 when you were in highschool. But instead, you probably believe 1984 was the year of the last great American President - Ronald Reagan. The almighty god of the conservative right, who wages a war on terror from the grave. Freedom from the tyranny of the unwashed masses. A holy crusade against everyone who isn’t a rich man. There ain’t no section 8 housing in their heaven. 

This article previously appeared on the Idol Box

April 28, 2014
The Mysterious Friend-Zone

Oftentimes, when a repugnant thought enters the cultural consciousness, it cuts through people like two land masses experiencing a seismic rift. One side defends it “It’s just a joke!” or “It really happens!” and the other responds “That is offensive, women owe you nothing,” “You’re a neckbeard loser”. But no one really ever sits down and think “Why the fuck are we even discussing this?” Even repugnant ideas come from somewhere, and enough people must experience them for it to catch on as a meme.

Even Fedoras were once cool, so cool, that every dude almost had to wear them. Now Fedoras exist in the uncomfortable realm of Bros, Nerds, and the Pickup Artist Community (THE LOVECHILD OF BROS AND NERDS). The Pickup Artist community deserves its whole separate deconstruction, so i’ll save that for later. But the Friend-Zone didn’t just appear as a boogie man of men’s rights activists. The Friend-Zone exists because men and women have been socialized to ignore each other and suppress their desires.

What we’re talking about when people discuss the Friend-Zone, has been unfortunately gendered and distorted. It simply is the very modern result of relaxed sexual mores coming into conflict with traditional gender roles. There does exist an uncomfortable situation that occurs before or after sex occurs with a new person-of-interest, where one of the persons (at least) is unsure of what role the other should take. When you hear nerds and bros and PUI’s speaking about this, this is why they need feminism. Unfortunately, they are often too pigheaded and stubborn to see that. The patriarchy has failed them, because when the strict codes of behavior begin breaking down towards how to interact with women, those last vestiges morph into an artificial reward/punishment structure….a game.

There are nice guys, and bad boys. Sluts and Virgins. How to score. How to get pass “No”. Even feminist theory plays the game, “Yes means yes” “Are you privileged?” “Weight loss and Feminism”. Each person has their avatar, and each person must play the game of interacting with the opposite gender in such a way, that a winner is you.

Unfortunately, all a game amounts to in the real world, is manipulation of others. And you only need to manipulate others, if you’re unsure you’ll get what you want by simply asking for it. We can’t just ask for it though, because there’s the undeniable fear that removing oneself from the game, also removes yourself from the rewards. One tolerates the punishments, in hope of eventually obtaining the reward. Its the sunk costs fallacy writ large. We’ve been playing this game for so long, for generations, that we can’t discard it without tearing each other apart.

Why is the Friend-Zone a meme so easily grasped by Bros and Nerds, opposites on the social stigma spectrum? Perhaps Bros & Nerds are identical in their complete social-acceptance of modern male-chauvinist brainwashing. The Bro is an alpha dog, the nerd is King of the Nerds. The Bro says she deserves it, the Nerd says she doesn’t even know who Rocket Raccoon is. United are they, in their inability to see past their limited male-centric bubble. All the while, dating remains with the male’s sphere of influence. The old traditional ways still define that the man pursues, the man is hyper sexual, the man provides. Sadly, this also means the man isn’t responsible for his emotions and his mistakes.

Dating still exists, but its also dissolved into hooking up, hanging out, casual sex, open relationships, “it’s complicated” status changes, FB stalking, Snapchat, Tinder, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, try-sexual. The BroNerd is a caveman in an increasingly complex world. Traditional roles only allowed for so much complexity. You could only play if you were straight and stayed with your own kind. Gay? Sorry, can’t play. Get out and die. Interracial? Sorry, can’t play. Get out and die. BDSM? Sorry, can’t play and SHUTUP SHUTUP SHUTUP! If you wanted to just get a god damn blow job, you had to pay for it. Literally. Don’t ask your wife to do that. The BroNerd doesn’t have the vocabulary to even discuss what he wants, but he also hasn’t been given the emotional complexity to vocalize it even if he could.

I’m focusing on the BroNerd, and speaking about men, because it’s what i know from first hand experience. I am a mostly straight dude. I’ve been “friendzoned” (I was afraid/unable to tell a person what i want and the person didn’t know what they want enough to tell me). But for every bro, for every nerd, there’s also a woman who has grown up believing the exact same quasi-traditional American beliefs. Women are just as socialized to be pursued, to be demure, to receive. This also means that a woman, in American society, is completely responsible for all emotions (the male’s too) and for all their mistakes.

What you end up with, is the broken situation where a woman is unable to be sexual, but wants sex, but will be punished for wanting sex, so often learns that to be pursued provides the most rewards in life. Even something like ‘slutwalks’ or naked protests, quite obviously traffics in agreeable male patriarchal desires, while simultaneously attempting to subvert them but reaping the traditional rewards – attention, consideration, discussion. How often do feminist articles explore questions like “Is Miley Cyrus a feminist?” “Is wearing a hijab feminist?” as a result of the inability to separate a woman’s appearance from the reward system of the male gaze. Those questions would be as irrelevant as a man’s nipples, if a man’s gaze didn’t value women’s nipples. Existence is a reward itself, when your very gender makes you invisible in many walks of life. Modern dating rewards women who are pursuable, but does not ever reward being the pursuer, or the result of being pursued: sex. It does however reward being purchased: traditional marriage. How can a woman define what they want, when all the new choices afforded to her are still linked with punishments. Own your sexuality? You better be ready to discuss it. Don’t want to have children? You gotta talk to a man about that first. Silence is the only refuge, and that’s perfectly okay for men who don’t want to listen.

For a man, conquest at any cost is rewarded. Even if it destroys your own soul. A “nice guy” values conquest too, he only defines it as a “girlfriend”, but its really a wimp’s way of making a marriage purchase. The BroNerd is a caveman, only able to communicate in grunts. And grunts are all it needs. He doesn’t have to discuss how much sex he wants or how he goes about getting it. He doesn’t want children, he’s just a busy guy. Grunts are good for aggression, and that’s perfectly okay for men who don’t know what to say. Together, cavemen and cavewomen get along just fine, one grunts while the other is silent.  The world is changing however. As we navigate these changing social norms, we are all evolving, because we are all in some way dealing with our traditional gender role baggage. Evolution occurs when an animal must adapt to a changing environment. Those who do not adapt, perish. The caveman is going extinct. And it’s death is seen on arguments on a facebook wall. In death, it is flailing about in complex new encounters between the sexes, like a cricket with broken legs trying to sing a song of seduction.

Traditions seek to control the environment, by limiting the amount of possibilities. Ain’t no bird gonna fly if you always get shot. But our world has become truly global, and our traditions are crashing against other traditions, and creating new ones.  Thats where the Friend-Zone came from, and it won’t go away until we’ve discovered a new paradigm. Until a woman won’t be punished for just wanting a friend, punished for just wanting sex, punished for just wanting to be monogamous, then it’ll be impossible to tell a man exactly what they want. Nor will men, who treat sexual conquest as a reward, who see friendship as simply a path to conquest, and face no consequences for being single or married, ever be able to see past their socially impaired tunnel vision. Caveman can’t talk, caveman can’t understand. Cavewoman gets hit when she speaks, cavewoman can’t understand why.

For now, when I go on a date, i try to pay for it while looking really cool and i didn’t really even think about it, so that she doesn’t think i’m trying to be some throwback but still values traditional status symbols like affluence and confidence, and if she really wants to pay for her, i just ask three times – very casually – and then let her. That’s a lot of complex decision making just to pay for a burger. Its really annoying, but BroNerd’s just ain’t got the higher reasoning skills to deal. Also, yes, i just humble bragged cause i’m still playing the game. Don’t hate the player, hate the game, it makes losers of us all.

further reading -

6:41pm  |   URL:
Filed under: friendzone 
April 24, 2014
"There is only one thing you can do that will undoubtedly change someone’s life. That thing is to hurt them."

— Roma (via shitmyphotoprofsays)

April 22, 2014

Anonymous said: What do you think of a fit guy with a plus size woman? and would you date a plus size woman?

Dear Cooking for Cannibals,

I would think the only time this should matter is if you’re worrying about lean meat vs. some nice marbling in your long pig. Otherwise, i’m a firm believer in infinite diversity in infinite combinations. 

And anyone who is friends with me in real life knows i answer “Yes.” to “Would you date a ______ woman?” 

April 18, 2014
""A man tells a woman he’ll rape her because its the only thing left where he can still have power. You ain’t gonna shame no dude into stop doing that. Shame is exactly why he does it. Dude knows exactly how offensive he is being. And if it offends his dude friends? They think, "That’s cause they’re little bitches too, so fuck them. I bet they can’t get laid, so they just pretend to be feminists to hang out with chicks.""

— Part 2 of Feminism as Self Protection

April 4, 2014

"Feminism will protect all the boys. No boy should have to learn these lessons this way. You shouldn’t have to grow up into a man feeling like you never learned how to do this. Hyper sexuality, braggadocio, machismo – all things that i’m guilty of. I shouldn’t be afraid of other men, i shouldn’t be afraid of myself.

But i am, and feminism is the only way i know to keep the violence in me from spreading to other men and boys.”


March 28, 2014

Marvel art piece by Ulises Farinas

Wow, Brian Michael Bendis reblogged one of my drawings. Feels pretty good.


Marvel art piece by Ulises Farinas

Wow, Brian Michael Bendis reblogged one of my drawings. Feels pretty good.

(Source: westcoastavengers)

March 21, 2014

livy101 said: Do you really hate it when you're confused ?

I don’t really feel confused too often. Most of the time, the things that confuse me are other people’s feelings, but i try to remember that i shouldn’t try to guess at what other people are feeling unless i’m willing to ask them and accept what they tell me

February 5, 2014

Anonymous said: what's my name


January 31, 2014

(via megatrip)

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