One Woman Army

Giving in to the donation mechanism...

Yes brilliant readers, you'll notice that I've added a PayPal Donate button to the right upper column of this blog.

Why you may ask?

Well I could choose to talk about all that I've talked about before - working in childcare, low wages for women, being a student, student loans, etc etc - which of course all adds up to the fact that I am struggling each month to pay my rent and bills, much less the monthly fee for this blog. Which I love and adore and want to keep going for you readers (and for myself) each month.

My blog, though at times is sparse, is a way to keep myself active in my feminisms even when busy in my own life. It is a way for me to vent and write and write and write and WRITE - which is something that my soul cannot exist fully without doing on a regular basis. There is something about writing in anonynimity in the blogosphere, in knowing there is an audience without having one's own identity in name, that creates a new layer to writing.

So I have added this PayPal donation button. Should you choose to make a donation, know that the $8.95/month will be given to PayPal, while any extra funds shall be given directly to my campus Women's Resource Centre - which is brilliant, amazing, and has contributed more than I can say not only to my own development of feminism and activism, but also to my community. Through producing The Vagina Monologues each year and donating funds to campus organizations, to advocating for women and men on campus, to donating free products such as condoms, tampons, pads, diapers, to doing sexual health presentations, sexual harassment presentations, and safe space presentations for groups that ask, and to simply being a support to women and men on campus and promoting a safe climate to get an education in - the WRC is brilliant.

So lovely readers, do as you will, and I shall return regardless with post after post after post for those who choose to read, or simply for my own self and purpose.

-Artemis

Choice and loss

Just as I would always support a woman in her choice to not have a child, I support those who choose to have children.

And so for them, I am saddened beyond words when their choice does not work out.

Tonight I am mourning for a family member and his wife, who had made the decision to have children, were pregnant, and today found out they had lost their baby 3 months into the pregnancy.

This was a child that was bringing so much joy into my family, I cannot express... The first of a new generation, I myself had already bought a little "Free Newfoundland" onesie to send along with little gifts for the mother-to-be. I am grateful only that I had not yet sent them in the mail, for that extra reminder of a person who was not meant to be.

I am without any more words now as I try to distract myself and think of my family in their pain, so very far away on the other side of the country.

- Artemis.

"Girls just have a thing for babies..." huh???

I'm on deadline mode right now for two separate publications, pieces which are both due today (and will unfortunately and likely be late as I'm pulling a morning, afternoon, and evening shift today at work).

So the blogging will be slow coming for a day or two.

However, there is a comment that has been stuck in my head since yesterday that I have to get off my chest.

At drinks the other night, a guy whom I was acquaintanced with asked if I knew anyone who would be a live-in for doing a few hours of childcare a week. Since I do childcare, my first thought and comment was no (it was out of town) but also that it would have to be a pretty good situation to be a live-in and do childcare since you open yourself up to doing more childcare and having less free time than you would like to.

He commented "I figured it wouldn't be hard to find someone since girls have a thing for babies anyways and like doing that stuff".

A... huh????

Okay. I am doing childcare now but hate to think that the only reason I'm good at is is because I'm a girl. When I started doing childcare once again, I took a heap of comments from a guy friend in particular who seemed to view it only as "babysitting" as opposed to real work. To commenting that I could be doing better, more important work. To ignoring me when I talked about the need for higher paid and higher valued childcare. Childcare has the stereotype of being women's work, therefore being undervalued and underpaid.

But my current employer but it best when she hired me, saying "of course we want to pay good wages - you're taking care of our kids. What is more important than that?"

I know plenty of women who do not want children, plan to never have children, and are at a total loss when around them. I am one of the rare few women out of my female friends who does want children. I don't attribute it at all to my gender or sex.

Rather - think about how we're raised? Give the girls some dolls and the boys some trucks. Nature or nurture? I'd argue its part personality and partially the society we grow up in.

That comment got under my skin and itched. Now that the itch is gone, time for me to head to work.

- Artemis.

Trolls, beware!

I have only been back blogging for barely two days, and the trolls are already out.
There is no women's space that is sacred any more - not even the blogosphere.

I find it ironic that in writing a post about fighting for my right to feel safe on the street, to feel safe walking alone - I get attacked verbally and harassed in writing about it.

What do I wake up this morning to find but trolls attacking my right to feel safe.

I shouldn't be surprised. I am surprised it happened so quickly after my return to blogging.

And yet I have only to look at my lovely sister bloggers who are experiencing the same harassment. The amazing Heart over at Women's Space/The Margins. The fab Laurelin of Laurelin in the Rain. And Biting Beaver, who is sadly, desperately missed and who I hope has found some peace outside the blogosphere.

I'm staying here. I'm writing. I'm fighting.
Fighting the good fight. No one is going to take me down.

-Artemis.

I walk the line - and I do it alone

I am not one to take chances, and one chance I do not take is with my safety.

That includes, for the most part, walking home by myself in the dark. As a woman, I can't help but feel nervous and scared when walking home in the dark alone. The logic tells me that there is no greater risk of walking home in the dark alone than walking home in the daylight alone.

Statistics tell me that my chances of being raped or assaulted come more from someone I know than stranger-rape in the dark at night.

And yet, I feel afraid.

Growing up, as women, we are taught to do things like hold our keys pointed out when we walk so we always have an attack weapon. To never wear anything too revealing or sexy or girly when walking home by yourself. To NOT walk alone in the dark.

I automatically cross the road when I see a man walking on the same side of the road as me at night. I can't help it, it makes me feel more secure.

A recent home assault in St. John's on a well-to-do residential street certainly doesn't help matters. Nor does being catcalled while walking downtown.

I work with women all the time, I know the stats and I know the reality of being attacked through stranger-rape.

And yet, I feel afraid.

In Cunt, Inga Muscio writes of this reality and her own attack plan when going out at night. Dressed as boyishly as possible, she rides her bike and always calls a friend before heading out, and when returning home.

When it comes to protection, for Christmas a friend bought me a small mace that looks like a perfume bottle.

The same friend once told me that although she has never been violated physically, she lives with the knowledge and reality that at any time her life might change and that might happen.

Because that's the reality as women.

THIS IS NOT HOW I WANT TO LIVE MY LIFE.
I AM NOT A VICTIM, I DO NOT WANT TO BE A VICTIM.
I AM NOT A SECOND-CLASS CITIZEN.

Tonight, I walked a half hour home after midnight, alone, dark, through streets where lights were burnt out, through dark pathways. ALONE.

When I left my friend's house, I did my safety rituals. I told her the exact route I would be taking, that it would take me roughly a half hour, and that if I did not contact her within an hour to call the police with my route.

I arrive home exactly one half hour later to message her, safe and sound.

As I walked, alone in the dark, the streets vacant aside from the occasional car or pedestrian, I couldn't help but feel alone, nervous, my tummy rumbling and my heart pounding. When I saw two men walking, I crossed the side of the street and walked faster to pass them and continue on my way. I changed my route to avoid them.

But I made it, alone, on my own.
I do not want to live my life in fear as a woman. I WILL NOT LIVE MY LIFE IN FEAR AS A WOMAN. This is why, rather than taxi-ing home as I usually do, I chose to walk alone. Through three separate and distinct neighbourhoods and areas of the city, on a Saturday night, past a neighourhood pub playing karaoke music and through a secluded park - I walked on my own, and I did it.

Some might call me stupid.
I might call myself stupid.

But I will not live in fear, and every time I do this, I feel empowered. I feel stronger. I feel like I beat the system somehow. Beat the system of violence, the patriarchy that I live in, all the crap that women go through. Each time I walk, I expect there is a reality I will not make it home safe and sound. And each time I do, I feel stronger, courageous, independent and amazing.

Take that patriarchy.

Little girls, little boys - stereotype me please?

There are days when I wonder about having children.
I have grown up in my life always longing to have children - and even now, work in childcare. I love my job, I love my work (most days - tantrum days not so much) but then I look at our gender-segregated society and wonder what are we teaching our kids?

And how could I bring someone into that?

I often hear people say that feminism is no longer needed today - that we live in an equal society. Then I look around and see the wage gap (70 cents for every dollar a man earns - and even less in Atlantic Canada). I see cuts to women's centres. I see sexual violence.

Yesterday there was a news story about a 9-year old girl in Halifax who was fighting to be included in a boys' summer camp that included activities like fishing, hiking, camping and golfing. The alternative to the boys-only camp was a girls glamour camp that included activities such as manicures and a spa visit.

That is NOT what I want to be teaching my children - that girls are only supposed to learn beauty rituals while boys get to play outdoors. Oh yeah, lets just turn our little girls into sex symbols and glamour girls with no brains before they even hit puberty. And then we wonder what happened to people like Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan and Nicole Ritchie - why the media promotes beauty so much, why they are our children's role models.

Not my children.

And yet my heart still breaks when I remember the day when my niece (now ten years old today) - at that time only 4 years old, started to cry when I offered her some of my lip balm. She cried and cried, repeating "I'm not pretty I'm not pretty, I need more makeup" and my heart broke for her - that at only 4 years old she was already associating her own outer beauty with cosmetics. However unconsciously, that had happened. And my heart broke.

People may have said that the incident in Halifax about the boys-only/girls-only gender-segregated and blatantly stereotyped camp was only an isolated incident and doesn't reflect society. I argue that it entirely reflects society. The fact that the majority of the people in that community thought there was nothing wrong with the gender-segregated and stereotyped camp shows exactly that it does reflect society.

I want children, yes. But I am frightened of bringing them into this world. I look after children whose parents are trying to avoid every gender stereotype possible - and still outside influences invade.

-Artemis.

In absentia

I am still here.
I have not disappeared, though obviously I've been quite absent lately.

My life as of late has been work work work. I miss my activism, I miss my passions. But I am preparing and looking forward to some vacation time in about a week and a half, so stay tuned for more regular updating starting very very very soon...

-Artemis.

Carnival of Feminists

Some Saturday night reading material to be found with the latest issue of the Carnival of Feminists now posted over at Team Rainbow. Rainbow Girl has put together a wicked mix of feminist reading material from the blogosphere, themed around Freedom this issue.

This blog makes an appearance in the Carnival for the recent post "That's Right. I am a Feminist!"

Time to curl up with some hot chocolate and Saturday night feminist reading material...

-Artemis.

Feminism: Reclaim it.

Society has made it near to impossible and unacceptable today to call oneself a Feminist.

But here it is - I am a Feminist.
I believe in Feminism - it pervades my soul and encapsulates every single part of me.

Feminists come in all shapes and sizes - round, tall, grey, red, large, with glasses or without, curly hair, straight hair, punk, male, female, transgendered, intersexed, lbgt, straight, whatever. Feminism is about equality and equality-seeking. All other types of oppressions can somehow be linked back to women's oppression - the oldest oppression in history. By defeating women's oppression, we can deal with all other types of oppression.

But in order to do that, we must name what we are doing.
Not give it a new name. We must reclaim it and own it and believe it. Feminism is not the same as womanism. It is not personism. It is feminism for a reason and has a long, amazing, beautiful history of women and men who fought for equal right in society and rights for women. A long history of women who were chastised in society, segregated and punished for standing up for their feminist beliefs and for fighting so that I can go to university, so that I have reproductive rights and rights over my body, so that I can live the life that I am living today. To name it by any other name is a disservice to all those who fought for where we are today.

We are Feminists.
It is not a dirty word.
It is not a terrible thing to be.
I can't count how many times I have heard someone say "Well sure, I believe in equality... or I'm against wage discrimination... or violence against women... but I'm not a feminist".
Yes you are.
But you need to own it. Name it. Be it. Reclaim it.

It means believing in equality. Believing we can have equality. And in doing that - and naming yourself as a feminist, you are creating and enacting your own activism in your own way.

Yes, men can be feminists.
Yes, there are feminists of all races, sexualities, cultures, genders. Men in grey suits can be feminists and so can the neighbour who lives across the street. The woman wearing high heels and dressed in a cleavage-baring dress can be a feminist. Just because I wear makeup and heels and like to dress up and wear pretty things doesn't mean I don't believe in equality.

I am a feminist.

Lovely blogger alert

A quick kudos to another lovely and wonderful female blogger - Kat over at My Single Mom Life. Not only is she blogging about periods and other wonderful things, but she's holding a contest for her readers to win either a book or dvd.

Wow.

That's my kind of blogger!!!!!!

Happy long weekend!

-Artemis.