Only super hot women get the blues.

there's probably no reason why life needs to take its toll on my blog updating, but i guess that is what has happened. it's been a while. life certainly got in the way. i guess i just needed something particularly provocative to pull me out of myself and push me back into the blogosphere. well, i found it.

on september 21st jezebel ran an article [http://jezebel.com/5945355/super-hot-women-more-likely-to-have-super-painful-endometriosis] with the headline: super hot women more likely to have super painful endometriosis. i went right to it for a couple of reasons. first, i have endometriosis, so i'm particularly interested in 'research' on it. mostly though, that's a fairly bogus proposition for any study. it sounded more like something i would read in the onion. after checking to make sure i was accidently reading the onion, i checked out the article.

the blogger covering the story mixed the report with a healthy balance of incredulity, sarcasm, and the facts of the case. basically, some italian doctors got 300 women (a shockingly small number of participants for a study like this) together according to three groups. 1) 100 who identified as having retrovaginal endometriosis (this is a really bad type); 2) 200 who identified as having regular endometriosis; and 3) 100 who didn't have it. this next part is amazing and really makes me wonder what they wrote down on their ethics application. after getting these 300 women together, the doctors measured their bmi, breast size, and waist-to-hip ratio. yes, you read that correctly. in fact, go back and re-read it. then, just to make sure there weren't too many biases impacting the data, they had two doctors who didn't know the endometriosis status of the women rate their physical attractiveness on a scale of 1-5. but wait, there's more! wary of making false claims, the doctors added a questionnaire component to the study. they asked about sexual history. why? obviously because women who have sex before age 18 are hotter than women who don't. duh.

through this finely crafted study, the doctors found that women with retrovaginal endometriosis were more likely to have small bmi's and big breasts and were more likely to have intercourse before age 18. the doctors thought it might have something to do with estrogen, but only because high levels of estrogen have already been linked with endometriosis.

this study is terrifying. besides the fact that it is very poorly done, it is based on highly subjective ideas about what it means to be attractive. you know what, that's not even my biggest problem with this blatantly offensive research. as someone who deals with endometriosis, i have been consistently frustrated by the lack of substantive research in this area. researchers consistently understudy health issues associated with female bodies. it is both not surprising and immensely depressing to see that when a study in this topic was funded and completed, that study was so entirely bogus, so entirely offensive, and so entirely pointless. how in the world would it help anyone with endometriosis to know the likelihood that they would have lower bmi's and bigger breasts? this study provides absolutely nothing for people who are actually experiencing pain.

The stop and frisk policy is racist.

i made the mistake of reading the comments section at the end of an article in the new york times online. the article was posted today under the headline: majority in city see police as favoring whites, poll finds.

unsurprisingly (to anyone who regularly reads the new york times), this article was a disappointment. the poll had a large margin of error, and i'm dubious of the research tactics. however, the article itself is the real letdown. there is very little 'new' in this 'news' story. in two pages, the journalist takes readers through very tired conversations and arguments: the stop and frisk policy isn't perfect but something must be done, at least new york is dealing better with crime than detroit, and, the kicker, white people commit less crime. this last argument is the one that lingers. this last argument is the one the article is really about.

the article points to the glaring racial divide in opinions about the stop and frisk policy. with less emphasis, it also notes the glaring racial divide in how the stop and frisk policy is implemented. underlying this divide is the false belief that white people just commit less crime. fueled by this inaccuracy, white people across the nation, but specifically in new york for our purposes, contend that people of color should be stopped and frisked more frequently. it's about proportions, really.

of course, this argument is based on false ideas of criminality and an overwhelming lack of attention to institutional racism. do these white people really believe that people of color are that much more likely to commit crimes? because they're, what - bad people at heart? or is it possible that people of color are dealing with a different system than white people? and that 'white people crime' doesn't seem to register with society, like corporate crime? i mean, what is more likely - people of color are inherently more prone to commit crime than white people or there is something going on an institutional level?

the racist arguments which are hinted at but not fully explored by the article are delved into more fully (and bluntly) in the comments section, where suddenly everyone has a statistic about the crime rates of young black men. i wasn't surprised by what i read, but honestly, how depressing is it that i'm not surprised by rampant racism?

What's in a name?

Quotable phrases from English literature aside, I would venture to say a whole lot.

Names are tricky. People name us when we're born (usually before), and we rarely have a say in the matter. Some people are named from books, as statements, as homages. Some people, like my sister, are named for family members. Her name carries with it the legacy of our families escape from Eastern Europe and memories of a grandmother we never met. I suppose the hope is that we will grow into our names, like I grew into the incredibly large ears I had as a baby.

For some this works; for others, this system presents a problem. What if your name just doesn't feel right? What if it doesn't reflect who you think you are or who you want to be? Names are salient aspects of our identities. Every time we introduce ourselves to another person, we exchange names. Identities become attached to our names.

Over the past few years, I have been working on understanding my gender identity. It's a complicated process. It's also a process that makes me feel more whole. Integral to this process is finding a comfortable balance between the external presentation/others' perception of my gender and the way I feel about my gender. Since my name is a very obvious, external identity marker, I've ended up thinking on and struggling with it a lot.

Now, I have a very feminine name. At times I'm hesitant to introduce myself with it. My name gets pulled from me because it's my name and people always want to know your name. It doesn't fit me, though, and people tend to notice that. That's why I tend to acquire nicknames that are either androgynous or masculine. As my housemates in Vancouver turned into friends, they told me they weren't really going to call me Larissa anymore. They had come up with a better name. They were right.

My new name just felt better. I felt confident introducing myself. Finally, my name felt more like it belonged to me than the name I had been lugging around for 26 years. It was exciting and empowering to impact my identity in this way.

Initially I only used this new name in my social life and not in my academic one. I introduced myself as 'Lars' to new people but remained 'Larissa' in school. It did not take long for this duality to start feeling uncomfortable and for members of both worlds to start overlapping in complicated ways. There are many people in Vancouver who have only ever known me as Lars and don't even recognize the name 'Larissa' as being associated with me. It's exciting to take control of how I present myself and create this shift; however, it's also a bit overwhelming.

When I used to think about changing my name, what stopped me was always my fear of permanency (a constant fear that I have regarding almost everything save for, very surprisingly, tattoos). I am afraid of 1) ultimately changing my mind about the name I choose 2) the way other people (mostly people from my past) will react and 3) what kind of statement it is regarding my gender identity. Changing my name has always felt so decisive, and, to me, gender is anything but decisive.

Using both names has made salient how detached I feel from 'Larissa'. Though I had struggled with my name for years and never actually felt like it suited me, it wasn't until I had the workable option of another one at my disposal that I could understand what it felt like to be comfortable with my name. There were a few key people in my life who picked up on the ways in which 'Larissa' was not working for me and who helped me gain the confidence to finally take another name. I guess I'd just like to thank them.

Just like a little boy

when i was a little kid, my mother took me shopping in the boy's department. we both thought the clothes just fit me better. now that i'm 26, i'm back shopping in the boy's department because, again, the clothes just fit me better.

recently my housemate and i were at a thrift shop looking for softball-appropriate clothes when we stumbled down into the boy's section. it was like making a miraculous discovery! in one place there were rows of clothes that i feel comfortable in and want to wear...and they were all in my size! well, to be fair, many of them were far to small. however, plenty looked as if they had been made for me.

i disdain shopping for clothes. mostly, i loathe clothes shopping because it is nearly impossible for me to find clothes. women's departments overwhelmingly stock feminine styles, cuts, and prints. if you're not into or don't feel comfortable in flowers or tops that accentuate your breasts, the women's section is the wrong section for you. since i'm small, i can't shop in the men's department. i look like a child trying on their dad's clothes in even the smallest men's clothes. it's sad. i have a really hard time finding clothes and often end up wearing a lot of things that don't fit me well because it's just too difficult (or too expensive) to do anything else.

enter the boy's department! despite the fact that i feel a bit like a creep sifting through clothes meant for small boys alongside mostly mothers who give me suspicious eyes, i have no qualms about shopping in the boy's section. of course, i doubt i will ever find a pair of pants or shorts there - boys have no hips.

even though shopping in the boy's section provides a nice solution for my clothes issue, i think it would be far nicer if there were (affordable) places for folks with non-conforming genders to shop and not feel judged or like their bodies are wrong. face it, when there are no clothes for your presentation or your body, it feels like you don't exist. this issue has been getting a little bit of attention from the fat positivity movement of late - if stores are not stocking clothes big enough for actual people, then the stores are essentially disregarding these people's existence. well, bodies exceed the fashion industry's standard expectations and bodies present in all sorts of limitless ways. wouldn't it be great if all the people unsatisfied with the dominant standards imposed by the fashion industry opted out of participating at all? wouldn't it be great if there were alternatives? maybe some of the folks left out by this system will create some other choices and we could all support those instead!

Tear up your gaydar quiz

i started reading the blog effing dykes when i was living in seattle. it was all the rage among my friends. over the past couple years, effing dykes has received a lot of attention and krista, its author, even more. the blog, which professes to assist struggling gays with their gaydar, has always irked me, but i keep reading it much in the same way i watched the entire six seasons of the L Word (more than once). sometimes it feels like there are just so few options in queer media that many of us settle for remarkably subpar products just to feel included.

typically i read the new effing dyke's post and grumble a bit about it, then i move on. not this time though. this time i'm grumbling onto the internet. partially because second term has ended and i've re-committed myself to blogging regularly. partially because i think i've finally realized this may be what the internet is about.

this past week krista posted one of her 'gaydar quizzes'. these are the crux of effing dykes. she set up the scenario of a gay woman (who is not high femme) going shopping. readers are supposed to select which items this fictional character would pick out, given our knowledge of her as a 'lesbian'. we know nothing else about her.

okay, before even diving into how this is really just an exercise in reinforcing tired stereotypes, i want to address the problem of language in this blog. krista alternates somewhat haphazardly among queer, dyke, gay, lesbian, and a litany of slang for these populations. however, who is she actually talking about and to? is she talking about cisgendered women who fuck other cisgendered women? that's a distinct population and, importantly, distinct from queer folks who approach gender and sexuality with more fluidity. these are not words that can just be interchanged without intention. (i will use her words in this post, but in quotes)

moving right along! the outcome of the gaydar quiz is a grand theory about a universal truth of 'lesbian' fashion: simplicity and functionality. according to krista, these are two of the cornerstones of 'lesbian' style. she discovers this by observing the 'gay' population and asking "why did i think they looked gay? what did that even mean?" these are good and important questions to ask, i think. in earlier posts i've written about why i believe it's important to be able to recognize community. how and why you know someone else is queer is an interesting, complicated, and potentially problematic endeavor. krista goes in a different direction, however. from these questions, she develops her theory by noting overwhelming similarities in style. now i would say another question would be: what is the point of fashion?

clearly that's a huge question that cannot be answered by me. still, i think it's important to examine fashion a bit. fashion and style have many uses and are employed differently by different people, certainly. however, one point is presenting an image of yourself to society so you can be read the way you want to be. we learn by observing those around us and by living in a media saturated society how to dress ourselves into these images. if you wanted to become a punk, how hard would it really be for you to think of the types of outfits and accessories you would need to at least craft a passing image for that community?

we rely on stereotypes constantly, especially when deducing information about someone based on their appearance. effing dykes reinforces these stereotypes constantly. why are all of these 'women' so recognizable as 'gay'? maybe because they are intentionally presenting themselves as such. they know what to wear in order to fit in to the queer community because the messages are all around, including in krista's blog posts. have you ever gone out at night and realized that everyone seems to be wearing a variation on the same theme? this is not a coincidence.

the problem is these are stereotypes. they are not universally true at all. who do they leave out? in what ways do they streamline what it looks like to be queer? krista points out that no one sees her as 'gay' at first because she is a femme. since she does not don the uniform she so heavily reinforces as the 'gay look' in her blog, no one knows she is 'gay'. the more heavily we perpetuate these tired ideas of 'what it means to be gay' or 'what gay looks like' the more people we exclude.

though she ends the post with a statement from "we, as a people", she has to insert a small print caveat "cept for femmes". this qualifier is significant. the queer community is not homogenous by far and any sweeping claim is probably falling short on many accounts. however, it's a fairly weak universal theory if within it there has to be a small print exception made for a huge portion of the community. maybe it's just not necessary to try to find clever generalizations for a community that prides itself on difference. we don't have to all dress the same, fuck the same, smirk the same to be queer. we're queer, that's enough.

Who has the time for that?

i remember when i used to blog. when i used to want to blog. when i used to feel like i had time to blog. those were nice days.

lately, i've been thinking a lot about time, and not just because i wish i had more of it but because of its uncanny ability to impact everything. i've been trying to be aware of the fact that how i think about time influences the way i experience time.

a few weeks ago a friend told me that they measure time by seasons. she has trouble attaching years to events. this conversation made me interrogate how i perceive time. i have a very visual memory, and when i think back, i don't remember years or seasons. i remember my environment. sure, from places i can figure out the year, but time for me builds from statements like 'that was when i was living in (fill in the blank)'.

i've started writing this post a fair few times. it's gone in several different directions. apparently, i have a lot that i want to say about time. i doubt my interest in time is, er, fleeting, so instead of articulating thoughts that are still rather rough, i think it'd be more interesting to hear from anyone who happens to be reading this:

when you stop to think about it - how do you measure time? what are your markers for time?

The privilege behind the 's' word

Hey folks! A few people asked me about a tangential comment I made in my last post regarding white privilege and the book The Ethical Slut. I thought it would make sense to address that in a little post.

Language is rarely, if ever, neutral. Words come to have meaning through historical and cultural legacies. A word that invokes a strong negative reaction in North America might not mean anything particularly provocative in another country. Words are largely context-dependent.

The word slut has a long history in the United States - a product of chattel slavery and white mens' concerns over black female 'promiscuity'. Instead of delving further into this history and the implications for black women myself, I'm going to direct everyone to an article written by the Black Women's Blueprint. They are an intersectional activist group based in Brooklyn, NY. They say it all. I encourage everyone to read it. And thanks to my friend Apu for sharing the link!

http://www.blackwomensblueprint.org/2011/09/23/an-open-letter-from-black-women-to-the-slutwalk/