Episodes

            When I graduated high school, I was so excited for college. I was confident, I was comfortable with my high school friend group, and I couldn’t wait to experience all that college had to offer.

            One month in and I was walking around the streets of Boston alone, feeling alienated in a city where my closest friendships were only a few weeks old. I had already attempted to be part of one friend group and had been duly ostracized – deemed not cool enough by a group of girls on my floor – and I missed the people back home with whom I had sleepovers, watching 1980s romcoms and Disney Princess movies until we fell asleep at midnight. (My high school friends and I were not that cool, it turns out.)

            I would be in a dorm with new friends, playing Mario Kart and technically having a good time, and wishing more than anything that I was back with my high school friends, or in bed under the covers, or anywhere that promised to make me happy – or at the very least less lonely.

            By the end of my first semester I had found my group of friends that stayed relatively constant throughout college. By the end of that year I wasn’t constantly asking for reassurance from Pip, the friend who always seemed effortlessly relaxed and at ease, that she was indeed my friend and not just someone who let me hang around.

            I wasn’t as lonely anymore. College felt comfortable.

            At the end of sophomore year, after finals and before going home for summer, I took some shrooms with friends. When the sun began to set, I remember wanting more than anything to stop time, to stay on this perfect day before it slipped away from me. The sky grew darker, and my chest constricted. I couldn’t make time stop moving forward. I couldn’t stop night from coming.

            First semester of junior year was about as perfect a semester of college one could ask for. My classes were interesting. My friends were great. I had an easy on-campus job. I was nursing a crush that didn’t seem hopeless or out of reach. My roommates and I created a list of 10 apartment rules concerning hook-ups, drinking, and party fouls – maybe the most college thing I’ve ever done. I was comfortable, at home, and happy.

            Some of my friends were seniors, which meant they were about to graduate. Next semester, I was going to study abroad. I was so lucky and so thrilled to be able to experience four months in another country, but in the back of my mind I knew that this perfect college semester was over and everything was about to change. I would come back from France and a good portion of my friends would be done with school. One more semester and I’d follow suit. A third semester later and I wouldn’t even be in Boston anymore.

            My time in France coexisted with this weird existential crisis that clouded my thoughts and dampened my mood. It didn’t help that I had to start all over with a new group of people again. I had this stupid habit of forgetting how terrible I was at making new friends. Being friends with people was easy, but the “making of” process I could barely figure out. I have been very lucky to somehow stumble my way through that beginning phase with enough people that I’m not alone, but it’s never been easy for me. I think of myself as good at first impressions and good at genuine friendship, but that gray area of acquaintanceship between meeting for the first time and becoming actual friends is hard and scary and anxiety-inducing and I absolutely hate it.

            It took me a long time to put my finger on why I couldn’t fully enjoy my semester abroad. (Don’t get me wrong – I enjoyed it. I loved my time there. But I was also unbelievably relieved to get back home.) I felt like a failure, or a spoiled brat, or a Super American for not taking complete emotional advantage of such an awesome opportunity. In fact, I only finally came to grips with the issue when talking to a friend that summer and I said, out loud, what had been bothering me. In a few months I was going to graduate, and then live my life, and then die. The whole thing felt so… pointless.

I felt like I had no control over what my brain was doing. That fear was such a dumb thing to freak out about, especially since I was only 20 years old, but I felt instantly better after labeling it. I guess that’s the point of therapy? Grappling with the beast is easier when you know what the beast is.

Of course, those unfounded fears didn’t just automatically disappear once I identified them, but it was an important step forward. I got to work out some really terrifying personal beliefs. I stopped, officially, being Catholic, since I realized I no longer believed Jesus rose from the dead or that God was both a Holy Trinity and One Being (both of which are necessary to believe in order to be Christian). I almost lost faith in God entirely, but I came out on the other end still a believer in a higher power. Deciding you don’t believe Jesus is Christ is actually really fucking hard. It feels dumb to admit that too, but it was. It was harder than putting Santa Claus away, I’ll tell you that.

The two years following college were also difficult. I had about seven different jobs before landing one at a car dealership. That wasn’t my dream job – I’ve been making up stories since I was in third grade and I always imagined I’d end up as someone who wrote and traveled and somehow made money doing… things? I wasn’t always clear on that last part, but it definitely didn’t consist of spending six or seven days a week in a dealership. I wanted a job that I found fulfilling, and I tried on a bunch of different hats before recently realizing the reason none of them stuck.

On top of working a job I didn’t like, I realized that living in the city of Los Angeles was very different than growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles. I didn’t have as many friends as I thought, and I was now tasked with finding a group of people I could be comfortable with. Again. This time, it took me two years. I had individual friends, sure, but I didn’t have a group. Being a working professional in Los Angeles makes finding lasting friendships much harder than it was when I was at school. I finally succeeded, but in order to be more social in that awful “in between” time, I leaned harder and harder on alcohol.

My last episode is only just now ending. I quit my toxic job to pursue comedy writing, which is something I’m only just now starting to admit (because, again, it does feel still feel silly – but it also feels like something I have to do). I was lucky, again, to have some savings, because most days I spent hating myself for not having the energy to do anything more than cry one-to-seven times a day and watch Fargo. (Fargo is great btw.) I didn’t know why I was so emotional. I think it’s because I was scared – now, here I am, declaring that I’m going to pursue something that has supposedly been my dream, and I’m out of excuses. What if I don’t work that hard at it? I think that’s been my biggest fear – that my work ethic isn’t there. If I put the effort in, I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t succeed. But what if my drive just isn’t where it should be? Who am I, if it turns out I can’t give 100%?

The new year is coming, and I feel good about 2016. I’m coming out of that funk, and those voices in my head that list all those reasons I should feel bad about myself are getting easier and easier to ignore. I know another episode will come, but I also know I’ll work through it again. I’ve learned some new things about myself, and I’ll be better prepared next time.

Until then, I think right now I’m bordering right on happy.

How to: Begin to Understand Intersectionality

Originally posted on The Winging It Girls' Guide at www.twigghowto.com

The concept of intersectionality states that different institutions of discrimination cannot be separated from one another. Intersectionality refers to the interconnected nature of discriminatory “-isms” and “phobias.” Feminism can’t be focused on the struggle of the educated, white, heterosexual female, as it historically has been in the US, because it leaves people out who experience discrimination in other ways as well. Feminism must include women of color, women in lower socioeconomic strati, queer women, trans women, etc.  

You’ve heard the statistic that women make 78 cents to the dollar, right? Unfortunately, this figure doesn’t tell the whole story. If we look at Black women specifically, they’re paid 64 cents to the dollar (specifically, the white man’s dollar - Black men also experience their own pay gap). Native American women make 59 cents to the dollar. Hispanic women earn a mere 54 cents to that same dollar.  

Intersectionality is the next piece of the puzzle; it is the way we can share these newfound rights and victories with as many people as possible. If we are going to consider ourselves feminists, we cannot simply focus on the struggle of the middle-class, educated white woman. We must focus on the struggles of all women and be open to all experiences.

Below is a very basic introduction to intersectionality, and why it matters in your life today. You don’t have to bring it up at every family reunion, but it is very important for you, as an informed member of our society, to be aware of what intersectionality is and what it stands for.

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It starts with empathy. A knee-jerk reaction when someone points out your privilege is to get defensive. That’s natural. You’ve seen it when you try to tell your guy friends about street harassment, or when a story about assault prompts the “not all men” comment (it’s great that not all men sexually assault, but that doesn’t change much for a woman who was assaulted). It’s important to recognize someone else’s experiences as valid - and that their valid experiences are not a reflection of you, they’re a reflection of society at large.

It’s essential to understand your own privilege. Again, understanding your own privilege is not an attack on you or your work ethic or whether or not you “deserve” what you have. For example, I’m a white, heterosexual, cisgender female from an upper-middle-class suburb. This is not my entire identity, but it does inform my identity.I am proud of what I’ve earned so far in my life, but I’m also cognizant of the fact that I built on opportunities not everyone else has. The most amount of racial discrimination I’ve ever faced was when an idiot kid my age would call me a Jew with a sneer in his or her voice and make jokes about the Holocaust somehow at my expense. I’d usually respond with a confused, blank stare, unable to form a response, because I was too busy thinking, “Really?  Are we really doing this right now?” But on a systematic level, my ethnicity has never affected my ability to get into college, get a job, shop without incident, or freely leave an interaction with a police officer with anything more than a speeding ticket.  

So if someone points out how much harder it is to get through school with a background that is less economically stable, this is not an attack on your parents or you. Rather, take this as an opportunity to fight with your fellow feminist sisters for a world in which they have the same advantages you’ve had. Of course you worked hard to get to where you are - we all have. Just don’t forget the help you had along the way. This mindset is essential to understanding intersectionality.

Some stereotypes are more harmful than others. Have you heard of Lonnie Franklin, The Grim Sleeper? He’s been awaiting trial since 2010 for being possibly the most prolific serial killer in Los Angeles history. If you haven’t heard of him, it’s because his almost 200 victims were Black drug addicts and prostitutes.  The term “NHI” means No Humans Involved, and is a derogatory term for murder cases in which the victim is someone the police just don’t care about.  Most of The Grim Sleeper’s murders were classified as NHI.

Or even take Officer Daniel Holtzclaw, who raped at least thirteen Black women between the ages of 17 and 57, all poor or with warrants or with histories of drug use, because he knew they were least likely to speak out. Some were abused at traffic stops. The 17-year-old was abused on her own front porch. Many of the women who finally came forward said they didn’t do so immediately because they were sure nobody would believe them. If these women were white or in a higher socioeconomic class, would he have been able to attack them so brazenly?

Pictured: a man upset he has to pay for his crimes.

Let’s look at another example of a less criminal nature. When Michelle Obama came onto the national scene as presidential hopeful Senator Barack Obama’s wife, she had a much tougher road to climb than any other potential First Lady in history. Michelle Obama, a successful lawyer, a Harvard graduate, a loving mother, a spectacular dresser, and the owner of a beautiful pair of arms, was initially labeled an Angry Black Woman because the media either lied about things she said or purposefully misunderstood her (not to mention referring to her as Barack Obama’s “baby mama”, which, again, no other First Lady has ever been called). I have never seen a national figure make fewer mistakes and still be looked upon with such suspicion. She did something as non-controversial as suggesting kids eat vegetables (just like all moms everywhere do) and other politicians insisted this would lead to a terrifying (yet healthy) nanny state and fought the Let’s Move! initiative. Michelle Obama has a resume any politician would love to have, with the dignity and poise to match, and she still had to prove to the public that she wouldn’t lose her temper at the drop of a hat over some imaginary, perceived slight.

#flawless

The main take away here is that, while white women have their own hurdles and stereotypes to overcome, many women of color have much worse stereotypes to contend with. Black and Hispanic women, often stereotyped as angry or emotional, deal frequently with tone policing. Tone policing is the act of focusing on the tone in which one brings up a grievance rather than the grievance itself.

Maybe the easiest-to-grasp example of someone who’s been tone policed in pop culture this past year is Nicki Minaj. Simply pointing out, with the help of some emojis, that black women are not rewarded for their contributions to the music industry started a supposed lightning-fast “feud” with Taylor Swift, a rebuke by Miley Cyrus who entirely missed the point, and a lot of articles that resort to name-calling and telling her to calm down.  

Also #flawless

When a woman of color points out additional hurdles she has to face, this is not an attack on white women. When a woman of color points out additional hurdles she has to face, she is not making it about herself, she is pointing out a real issue in society that still exists today.  Focusing on the way Minaj airs her grievances or assuming she’s personally attacking you doesn’t help us as a culture move forward. Minaj had a point, and instead of listening to it, two white women who proudly call themselves feminists either made it about themselves or dismissed the argument entirely due to tone. As feminists, we have an obligation to listen to everyone, even if it makes us uncomfortable.

There are all different kinds of ways to be a woman. This movement is still gaining momentum and visibility, but here’s the bottom line: you don’t have to know anything about transgender women to still want them to have access to all the same rights you have. Nobody should be fired because they’re transgender or because they’re gay, and it definitely shouldn’t be legal to do so - but in 28 states, it is. Being attacked specifically for your gender expression should be considered a vile hate crime - but it happens all the time.  And it’s even worse when you’re a transgender woman of color. As a feminist, equal rights for everyone should be part of the program.

That’s a lot of states where you can be legally fired over something that is none of your boss’s goddamn business.

When Caitlyn Jenner’s Vanity Fair cover came out, it received a ton of press - some good, some bad. Some of the transphobic comments were absolutely awful, but perhaps the more frustrating op-eds about that cover came from self-proclaimed feminists. Ironically pointing out that Caitlyn Jenner’s view of womanhood is exceedingly narrow because she got all gussied up in a dress and heels, some feminists are focused on Caitlyn Jenner’s decision to be a rather feminine woman and how that is detrimental to all the progress feminists have made so far. These writers insist they’ve fought for women to be seen as more than a pretty dress and heels.

And that’s great! Long live Title IX! Long live Brienne of Tarth! But feminism can get ugly when some women choose to be traditionally feminine. Feminism can get ugly when it forgets the cause is fighting for the choice to eschew traditional feminine roles, not the obligation to do so. When these feminists point out that transgender women grew up in a society that identified them as male and thus can never understand all the trials and tribulations and hurdles of growing up a cisgender woman, they ignore the many, many, many difficulties of being a transgender woman. In fact, they are only adding to these obstacles. Focusing on who has it harder is a useless exercise, and refusing to include transwomen because they don’t meet your definition of a woman is discriminatory for the sake of being discriminatory.

One final note to add is that while Caitlyn Jenner has absolutely added a lot of visibility to transgender issues, she still has a lot of privilege in a lot of other ways - she’s wealthy and she can afford extensive treatments that allow her to “pass” as a woman.  It’s hard enough being transgender, but if you don’t “pass” as a cisgender woman? The discrimination, stress, and even violence and abuse in your life is only worse. No one should have to “pass” to be treated with respect or to not have their identity questioned, but when society decides a transgender person doesn’t “look like a woman,” she suffers for it that much more.

Representation in the media is incredibly important, which is why appropriation can be so harmful. There are a lot of not-great statistics about the representation of women in film and television. There are tumblrs dedicated to the BS women in that industry have to deal with. As a feminist, I find these numbers upsetting. What’s worse, however, is that these numbers are numbers for ALL women, and that as hard as it is to be a woman breaking into that industry, it’s so much harder to be a woman of color.

Earlier this year, Minaj lamented a lack of accolades for Black women in the music business despite incredible contributions, and the statistics back her up. On the television side, of all TV episodes that aired last year, a paltry one percent were directed by women of color. And think about the roles of women of color on television and in film - not to mention the roles of gay women, which are even fewer and farther between. They are the exception, not the rule.

Why do we need more representation? With more representation comes more varied roles for women. We are not just the daughter, the wife, the mother, the fill-in-the-blank relation to the male character. With more female characters come more opportunities to tell female stories. This thought process extends to women of color, who for the most part are relegated to either comic relief or hypersexualized beings rather than fully-fleshed out characters. Yes, we have How to Get Away with Murder, Scandal, Jane the Virgin, Being Mary Jane, and The Mindy Project. For main characters in an ensemble cast, we have Black-ish and Fresh off the Boat and Empire. And… that might be it. To give you an idea of how dismal a number that is, in 2015 alone there were 409 television shows on the air. In film, women of color have it even worse.

Can I use #flawless a third time? TOO BAD. #FLAWLESS

On top of a lack of representation in media, mainstream culture will often appropriate other cultures and, once it’s put on a white person, deem it “hip” or “cool” or, at the very least, “acceptable.” There have been accusations against Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Iggy Azalea, and Taylor Swift regarding their appropriation of Black culture, Asian culture, Latina culture, and Egyptian culture used as “costumes” or as street credit.  

At face value, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with a performer putting on a show and trying out new kinds of styles and music. The issue, again, is directly related to a lack of representation from these women in the public space. We like their hairstyles, their clothes, their culture - but we don’t like them. And many white women get to profit off this unjust system that quiets the very women contributing to their successes.

There are a few different waves of feminism. In the US, we typically place the beginning of first-wave feminism in 1848, as the first suffragettes began asking for the right to vote. Notable figures include Lucretia Mott and Susan B. Anthony.  

Second-wave feminism began in the early 1960s and is associated with women’s role in society, her right to be financially independent, and her ability to take care of herself (in the 1960s, some states still wouldn’t allow women to have their own checking account). It also dealt with the right to work without facing discrimination and reproductive rights. Notable (and somehow still controversial) figures include Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem.

Third-wave feminism, beginning in the early 1990s, sought to fix some of the issues perceived with second wave feminism, which focused mostly on middle and upper-middle class white women, and to create a more inclusive social movement for gay women and women of color. Notable figures include Rebecca Walker and Judith Butler.

Fourth-wave feminism, technically not acknowledged yet by academics, purportedly started around 2008 and takes third wave feminism a step further in order to include transgender women, sex workers, and male feminism as well. Notable figures include Jessica Valenti and Reina Gosset.

Male feminism refers to men who are also feminists. They are allies - which means that they trust your lived experiences more than their own. Additionally, many men are recognizing that gender roles hurt men as much as they hurt women and would like to remedy that through feminism.

Radical feminism, or RadFem, seek to wholly eliminate the patriarchy. The movement is characterized by women-only spaces, its rejection of transwomen as “real” women, its sex-negative views, and its exclusion of sex workers.

Intersectionality, as you can tell by this very brief summation of different feminist waves in US History, is an increasingly important part of feminism.

Further reading/watching.  Amandla Stenberg may only be 17, but she’s a great source on the importance of intersectionality in today’s feminism.  

Everyday Feminism is a great site as well. It is a combination of think pieces on current events and easy-to-read cartoons about why certain issues are important.

If you’re curious about the effects of the appropriation and hypersexualization of women of color in the media, here is a good resource for extended reading.

Mikki Kendall is an activist who writes about police brutality, feminism, and race issues.

Laverne Cox is a transgender activist with some great information and insight.

Janet Mock is another transgender activist.

Sophia Banks is a transgender woman who doesn’t “pass” and often discusses her work and activism from her perspective.

bell hooks is a feminist who writes specifically about the intersection of gender, race, and capitalism.

For individual articles rather than sites as a whole, here, here, here, and here are some very informative articles on intersectionality.

There’s a lot you personally can do. The first thing to do is be open-minded. Be critical of your media intake. Ask questions. Look up answers. Cross-check references or articles. Learn, learn, and learn.

Then act on your new knowledge. Treat people the way they deserved to be treated.  Understand there are still major civil rights hurdles and negative socializations to overcome.  When you vote, keep in mind who your vote is going to help and who it might hurt.

If you’re not a member of a group that deals with discrimination, be an ally. Don’t make it about you (if you’re an ally, the worst possible thing you can do is make it about yourself), but be sympathetic to the cause.

Petition. Demand more representation. Be conscious of what message your actions send. Learn, learn, and learn. Listen, listen, and listen.

A good rule of thumb is that if you’re telling someone the “correct” way to be a feminist, there’s a 99% chance you’re wrong. Exceptions include people who have made the study of feminism their life’s work, but other than that, it’s really not your job to tell someone else how to be a feminist.

Again, the above is an overview and absolutely does not cover the vast umbrella of intersectionality. It barely touched on the kinds of issues low-income women face, for example, or even sex workers. If we at TWIGG How-to are truly to consider ourselves feminists, we must also consider ourselves intersectional.