It’s no secret that women use the words “slut” and “whore” to describe other women. Now, a new study of college-aged women sheds more light on just why young women use these slurs. You might be as surprised as I was to find out what’s really at play here: the slur is not meant to directly punish sexuality, but to delineate a broader social standing. And here’s the interesting part: depending on where a young woman landed within the school’s social hierarchy, she used the word “slut” differently to describe her peers. Keep reading »
It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was on my therapist’s couch. I described for her an incident over the weekend when I felt sad, deeply sad, for seemingly no reason at all. I had felt reclusive and shy and wanted to stay in my bed; when my husband encouraged me to go to a birthday party that night that I actually wanted to go to, I had started crying. I’m a sensitive person, sure, but even while I was crying I knew my tears didn’t make much sense.
I shared some other strange behavior changes lately. I’ve been more hungry than usual, more often and ravenously so. I get snappish when I can’t eat immediately (hangry, I believe, is the technical term). I’m usually pretty easygoing, but lately I’d been having random mood swings. I was beginning to feel embarrassed about my behavior.
“You’re emotional … your appetite has changed …,” she paused. “Have you considered that you might be pregnant?” Keep reading »
I expected the worst when I heard that that New York magazine would be writing an article about “The Retro Wife,” about how some liberal feminists are embracing retro lifestyles by staying-at-home. Well, I didn’t expect the worst. But I expected your typical scoopfuls of women-don’t-need-or-want-feminism-anymore BS, which, as Anna North at BuzzFeed Shift notes, are all too common in lifestyle articles about work/life balance in women’s lives.
Instead, I found “The Retro Wife,” by Lisa Miller — while light on factual analysis and more reliant on anecodtes — spoke to me. Keep reading »
Like everyone else in the country with excellent taste and a belly full of adult beverages, I very much enjoyed Beyoncé’s half-time performance at the Super Bowl on Sunday. I loved her all-woman band, particularly Bibi McGill’s spark-shooting axe. I loved the Destiny’s Child reunion. I loved that my Beyoncé half-time BINGO card included a square for “killing it,” which I ticked off within seconds of the show’s start.
And yet, my reaction to her post-halftime announcement of the upcoming “Mrs. Carter Show” tour was not to cheer her on in a post-feminist choose-your-choice fist-pump, but to huff: “Call me when Jay-Z goes on a Mr. Knowles tour.”
Why does the most powerful woman pop star in the world want, or need, to remind everyone she’s married? What does a Mrs. moniker have with her ability to sing, dance and write songs? And no, the name issue isn’t what gets me. I’m not raising a figurative eyebrow at “Carter,” I’m raising a figurative eyebrow at “Mrs.” Keep reading »
My relationship with Anthropologie is love-hate. I love the company’s handpicked, one-of-a-kind eclectic look. I hate the fact that my loving this stuff only underscores the fact that I am in no way unique and that I have been corporate-brainwashed just like the rest of you ladies who just can’t get enough pencil skirts, ruffled tops and bird motifs. Of course I can’t afford to shop there until something goes on sale — at which point all its “whimsical charm” has worn off and the item somehow returns to looking like the junk it was modeled after.
After my latest visit, however, I think my love-hate has officially turned to hate-hate when I left even more offended than the time I saw an Ikea sticker on an item involved in a window display (proving that even Anthropologie is not stupid enough to shop at Anthropologie). There, next to the register, was a sign announcing that the retailer is currently hiring interns. Keep reading »