After hours in front of my laptop, my back is usually gnarled into a “C” shape. I’ve learned to remedy the Ladyblogging Hunchback with some yoga. But this afternoon, when I checked the schedule and read the instructor’s name, Matthew, I started making excuses not to go. I don’t know Matthew, but I might have felt differently if his name were Melissa or Miranda. It isn’t just about my fear of a dude adjusting my warrior pose, it’s a pattern. I have always been like this — with male dentists, doctors, therapists, even Santa Claus. Why am I scared of men? Keep reading »
Profile for Rachel Rabbit White
Recently, a friend sent me a link to a YouTube video called “Can Men and Women Just Be Friends?” I rolled my eyes. I hate that question. It’s heteronormative and sexist, and yet, I clicked anyway.
The video has more than 5 million views. In it, women on a college-campus all say, “Yes! Of course men and women can be friends.” But the college-aged men aren’t sure. They report always wanting “something more.” The women also admit that many of their male friends have crushes on them. Watching, I squirmed in my seat. The video hints at some unnamed truth in the male/female friendship dynamic: the male friend who is in love with you, who you kind of lead on but who you do love, in some way. I understand this phenomenon all too well. Keep reading »
In honor of New Year, New You month at The Frisky, I’ve taken an in-depth look at one of the biggest teen movie cliches: the “makeover scene” (second only to the “prom scene”). You’ve seen it a thousand times — the heroine descends a staircase in slow-motion and we cut to the montage of her metamorphosis from nerd to culturally-sanctioned hottie. It’s no new invention. The makeover goes as far back as Cinderella. The message is that in order to be liked, girls must be conventionally pretty (and not look poor) to land the prince. And while there’s plenty to tease apart there culturally, it’s hard not to love a good geek to chic makeover montage, especially the rebellious or ill-advised. Click through for some teen movie makeovers that made lasting impressions on our collective girl unconscious.
When we think of people who hire sex workers, we probably conjure up the image of a shadow-y dudes, all back-alley-creepy-like. But what about the women that pay for it? It’s rare, but it happens. From “sex tourists” in the Caribbean to the ladies who hire strippers, more women are paying for sex than ever before. Click through for some examples of LadyJohns, or LadyJanes, as I prefer to call them.
I think I had a g-spot orgasm. Maybe. I’m not really sure. Even as I thought I might be having one, I questioned its existence.
Somewhere along the way I got the message that this was how I should be getting off. Whether it was part of the idea that penetration is the ultimate sex act or a side effect of sex positive feminism or one of Cosmo’s unrealistic sex tips — the notion that my body should be achieving g-spot orgasm on the regular was embedded in my brain. Keep reading »
Mary and I were sitting on her couch, laughing. “But wait, no seriously, is pooping a feminist issue? Why aren’t we talking about this?” I asked.
It was funny, if only because there was some truth in the (often female) phenomenon of “holding it in.” There’s this prevalent idea that girls don’t poop.
“Ugh. I hate that part of dating,” Mary said. “ I can remember holding it in all weekend, waiting until we got to a restaurant or somewhere!”
I knew this move all too well. I wondered, Is this every woman’s secret? Keep reading »
Belinda’s OkCupid account opens with this message: “If you are looking for casual sex, please move on … If you are looking for formal sex, please move on as well. Actually, if you’re looking for sex in general, I’ll probably disappoint you.”
If you are acquainted with the orientation known as asexuality, Belinda’s profile makes more sense. Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction or interest in sex, and has become a formal orientation — or unorientation. This year asexuality even got attention in a documentary on the topic called “(A)sexual.” But Belinda isn’t asexual exactly … she is gray-sexual. Keep reading »
When I was a kid, I thought “sex” was two people peeing on each other. Like, I imagined you got in a bed naked and cuddled for so long that inevitably you would have to pee. But instead of getting up to pee, you just “let go” and peed together, in the bed. This romantic notion just made sense in my eight-year-old brain. Keep reading »
Recently my husband and I went on a double date. We met my friend Kate and her husband Bear, at a German Beer Hall. I hadn’t met Bear, and I always find meeting a friend’s partner interesting. Kate seemed to come to life in Bear’s presence. He is upbeat but sensible, she is witty and wildly imaginative. She is small and brunette, he is big and blond. They are a physical yin and yang. And even though there was plenty of room on the bench, they sat close, Kate in the nook of his arm. Keep reading »
When I was fresh out of college, I worked at an egg donation agency, which paired egg “donors” with potential parents willing to shell out a lot of money for the possibility of having children. At parties, when I was asked what I did for a living, it was inevitable that a group of girls would gather around, asking questions. Everyone had seen those ads on the bus—“$7,000 to donate your eggs!”—and this was 2008, when the economy was digging itself deeper into a recession. In fact, the whole reason I’d taken this gig was because the egg donation business was booming while there was a serious lack of jobs in my field for recent grads. Keep reading »