Archive | February 2012

Slut Shaming

Last night I tweeted @RebeccaWatson in regards to her comments about Chris Brown performing at the Grammy’s this year. Breezy was bad, there is no doubt about it, he shouldn’t have hit Rihanna but she shouldn’t have hit him either. Yet for some reason feminists like to forget that she did that. Women are capable of domestic violence too. 6’8” Dennis Rodman had his then wife, Carmen Electra, charged with spousal abuse after she stabbed him with a rose stem and hit him a few times.

Anyhow

What followed then was this tweet from Watson; “OK guys, I’m blocking Cindy and suggest you do the same as I don’t think she’s the type for actual discussion”.

What an idiotic thing to tweet. I’m blocking her because she can’t discuss. It’s like, Honey you’re the one doing the blocking, you’re the one not discussing. Thankfully @endless_psych spoke up, stating emphatically that it was not her job to tell him, who he should and shouldn’t talk to and then going on to say I’ve always been civil to him.

I only attack when attacked.

That was the first backwards thing that happened that lead to this blog entry, the second incident involved a user called @racyboldhare, with a twitter bio that reads “Socialist, feminist, trade unionist (NUJ/UCU), journalist, lecturerist. More mad cat lady than not. Cup cake-hater”. How the hell does a feminist come out with; ”@rebeccawatson As @Original_Cindy is happy to be identified by her cleavage,  I’m not sure can take her opinions on violence against women seriously”? Has she not heard of sex positive feminism? Why do I need to hide my feminine body to be taken seriously? Is a feminist actually judging what a woman really means by her attire or lack thereof? Is that not a rapists’ way of thinking?

It was my good friend @MWStory that spoke up, a man. Myself and him have spent hours in his house over dinner, discussing right wing politics and going back and forth. He knows I know my shit. Incidentally he’s also the only one who has managed to decipher the fact that I dress this way (in online pictures only) to manipulate people. I believe his words were “No doubt, you have a degree and no doubt this image is a carefully constructed manipulative plan”. Years ago I had a Myspace page and I posted on a Myspace forum. None of the male members dared question a woman on there who claimed to have all sorts of degrees and used the image of Jenn Sterger claiming to be the relatively unknown model (of course under a different name).

I’m no Jenn Sterger but I have ample cleavage and can get male attention quite easily, so using what I have I adopt the Jenn Sterger effect, to the best of my ability. It’s worked, I’m constantly accused of not having a degree or being qualified in beauty therapy or cosmetology. Which are actually sciences, so that’s a fail, an epic one at that. Beauticians are just as much geeks as Rebecca Watson is.

What @racyboldhare fails to realise is; there are different kinds of power. I have flirted my way out of police trouble (this was when I was a size 20, big girls can do it too). I did something I shouldn’t have, a police officer saw, I fluttered my eyelashes, apologised and offered him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled and let me on my way. I have traveled great distances for free because the male ticket inspector was too busy trying to get my phone number than to realise I was manipulating him. Once, I over slept and missed my train to London. I didn’t retreat, I reloaded. I wore the most boobiful outfit I had and got to London, for free.

@MWStory was right when he told @racyboldhare she was engaging in slut shaming. For the record though, this is a look I go for and of no reference to my sexual morals. I’m harder to get into than a nun in Rome.

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American motherhood

Last night I was supposed to go to my friend Hazel’s 21st birthday party, but due to the forecast snow storm I didn’t risk it. An hour after I cancelled on Hazel the snow began to fall and this morning 6 inches of it coats my pathway. I would have had to have found my way from Croydon to south east London via bus in all this in my club clothes, which would have been an epic fail.

Today I am wearing my one item that resembles trousers, a pair of leggings and am going to attempt to get to @MwStory’s house. I’m cooking him Jamaican food, an odd choice for African me but since I can barely make any of my country food without supervision I’m not going to attempt to. I’m making him rice and peas and chicken. He’s pretty worldly and last time I was at his house he cooked us Indian food.

Anyhow….

I have my good friend @BW_Raiders back on twitter. Amanda deleted all her social networks except her tumblr site, so I look forward to reading her tweets again. After I clicked follow I looked at her images. Amanda and I both started our get thin regime at about the same times, she lost almost 2 stone in 1 month by swimming which really inspired me. Amanda is obsessed with ‘The Raiders’, I can’t remember what state she lives in but she is, I believe a Southern conservative girl. I scrolled through her images and saw one of her with a Raiders player and for some reason she reminded me of one of the mums in ‘Toddlers and Tiaras’. I watch that show because my own mother was a beauty queen back in the 70s and was a calendar girl in the early 80s. I have made no secret of my desire to become an American, no matter what, by age 28 I’ll be living there again. I can’t wait to be a mother and strangely when I commute to work I have to walk through a Marks and Spencer superstore. I always arrive at least half an hour before my shift starts so I can grab a bite to eat and so I can window shop. And on my way home from work, if my bus isn’t due for quite a while I will browse through Marks and Sparks, try on clothes and hopefully pick up a new edition of their magazine.

This isn’t my usual post on looks per se because I am not looking at the beautiful women featured in their clothes section. Well not in my usual way anyway. I like to look at the family scenarios, the upper middle class lifestyle that is the definition of Marks and Spencers. I come from a council estate background and when I was 12 my mother spent a fortune on elocution lessons. Not to blow my own trumpet but I am very well spoken, though I’d like to tweak it further. I’ve stepped up in life, council estates are in the past.

The Marks and Spencer’s image to me is one of a well rounded family with 2.4 kids, though I want a lot more than that. I’ve always seen myself as a Claire Huxtable type, married to a decent man with a good career, with equally decent kids.

Anyhow it’s 10.40am and I really need to grab a shower, visit a few shops and head to Michael’s house so I leave you with this. Forget the teen pregnancy and single motherhood just look at the image.