For my mother;
Who gave me her lion’s mane and sailor’s tongue.
Tucked me in under afghans to read Blake and Byron
but made sure I knew the sisters Brontë too.
For my mother
Who sewed thousands of rose ribbons to thousands of ballet slippers,
Gave me a garden for my birthday instead of a T.V.
and told me to knock out the teeth of any boy who touched me when I said no.
Who made sure I didn’t look down on that which I didn’t understand
and wouldn’t fear what was different from my wave of the world.
Whom I call Theresa because she’s a Queen
(mom is simply too empty and dull for someone as divine as her).
Who never let me think that anyone could ever know it all
and showed me how beautiful that truly is - to be an infinite learner.
For my mother
Who stirred my appetite for literature and nights spent with the blues,
painted the wonder of quality over quantity into my understanding
and glows more radiantly than the moon with each passing decade.
For my mother- this universe could never be a sliver as mesmerizing as you.
Though Mean Girls was rated PG-13 for “sexual content, language, and some teen partying,” that was a rating Paramount had to fight for, says Waters. “We had lots of battles with the ratings board on the movie. There was the line, ‘Amber D’Lessio gave a blow job to a hot dog,’ which eventually became ‘Amber D’Lessio made out with a hot dog.’ Which is somehow weirder! That’s the thing we found: When you’re trying to make a joke obey the rules and not use any bad words, it can actually become seamier, even.” Still, there were some things that Waters simply refused to change. “The line in the sand that I drew was the joke about the wide-set vagina. The ratings board said, ‘We can’t give you a PG-13 unless you cut that line.’ We ended up playing the card that the ratings board was sexist, because Anchorman had just come out, and Ron Burgundy had an erection in one scene, and that was PG-13. We told them, ‘You’re only saying this because it’s a girl, and she’s talking about a part of her anatomy. There’s no sexual context whatsoever, and to say this is restrictive to an audience of girls is demeaning to all women.’ And they eventually had to back down.”
I was a film student when I first got to Columbia College. I had plans to be a screenwriter and work on big blockbuster films (this was an unusual ambition for a film student, I came to learn –blockbusters meant selling out and no one here wants to do that). After a year of that, I couldn’t take it anymore and promptly switched majors.
But, before I changed departments, the fact that film is a predominantly male industry was not lost on me. It seemed that for every woman in my class, there were three men determined to direct the next greatest “indie” film or documentary.
That’s fine. If dudes wanna work in the film industry –more power to ‘em.
The problem is that the film industry is male run and caters to only males, when most people forget that women like to watch movies as well. Let me tell you what this means:
This means a lot of boobs.
An uncomfortable amount of boobs.
It means more than boobs, obviously. It means glorified misogyny and the fact that there’s always a strong male savior of a lost and pitiful dame. It means portrayals of ridiculously unattainable masculinity that damages young males self-esteem.
But it also –the most obvious aspect –means a hell of a lot of boobs.
Apparently, the only way that we can truly understand that the actress on screen is a woman is by showing the audience that she has breasts. How could we possibly know otherwise?
Now, I understand that there are a lot more complicated problems within the industry but this problem particularly irritates me.
Me, my mom and dad all sitting around watching a movie –maybe a horror film or maybe an action film –BOOM!
“What the hell was that?!” I yell, throwing popcorn at the screen, “They were just in a car chase and then they cut to some perky co-ed we’ve never seen before!”
Embarrassment is had by all and the movie is ruined.
What amazes me is the fact that once you’ve seen one boob –you’ve pretty much seen them all. What is the point of continually shoving them in our face if they aren’t even interesting? They just look like the same ones on the last actress because all of the actresses cast in anything ever have a nice full chest.
It was incredibly reassuring to come across and article written by Kristina Marie on Thought Catalog that dealt with the same issue. In Why The Film Industry Caters To Men (And How To Stop It) Marie goes into explain her own observations and theories as to why this is a phenomenon and even better: how to stop it.
It seems that a preference for boys is one that crosses many cultures, countries and continents. While some countries, like in the United States, this notion is somewhat muted or something that no one wants to talk about, in some countries, this is a very big deal.
Most notably, China.
With China’s One Child Policy, for any family that has more than one child without a “birth permit” there are incredibly high fines the family must pay.
China has always had a preference for boy children and this One Child Policy solidified that preference even more. Families that gave birth to girls often abandoned the child so they could have a boy without paying more fines, or many times aborted the pregnancy after finding out the gender.
How does one combat such a cultural phenomenon?
Prune Nourry is building an army.
The original Terracotta Army, were a collection of sculptures that depicted the army of Qin Shi Huang –the first emperor of China. This army was a bunch of horses and men. These sculptures were unearthed accidentally by farmers in 1974 and if you haven’t heard of them, you’ve probably been under a rock.
Artist, Nourry, is reconstructing this army and sculpting girl soldiers. The results are amazing to see.
Her goal is to make 108 sculptures and bury them in China to be “found” again in 2030. Every sculpture is unique.
The craftsmen of these sculptures were hesitant at first –not believing girl soldiers to be “proper.” But, as this article from the Huffington Post says, the artists and craftsmen grew more and more fond of the project as they worked on each individual girl.
For more on the artists look here
For the original post look here
You do not owe it to anyone to endure the oppression of whatever you have perceived as “annoying”, nor should you feel compelled to justify stagnancy with them, “relationship” or not.
At the same time, you also cannot truly justify expectations that have yielded these condemnatory accusations, or rely on whatever assumption you had for security at the consideration of your significant other.
We are attracted to the empowering lifestyles that others exhibit, and upon entering these relationships of romanticized co-dependency, tear one another down, until there’s ironically nothing left to actually be attracted to.