Warms my heart. All of it.

Yahoo news

Good As You covering the opposition: here, here (with some good grammatical feedback, as well), here, here, here, here, and here (really? fasting to save marriage? sorry, straight people, but y’all have a fifty percent failure rate right now, I hate to say, so the queers would have to try incredibly hard to screw up marriage more than you already have…).

And covering the celebration: Historic. Lots of links to the love on that one; bring tissues.

Pam’s House Blend: here (with interviews), here, here, here, and here.

Another link from PHB: The ACLU Blog of Rights: Because Freedom Can’t Blog Itself. Lovely.

LesbianDad: Herstoric. A ton of great links here, too, so grab another box of Kleenex.

Joe.My.God. has a cool, cribbed Bear Flag here.

Enough of the happy and the buoyant. This piece by Jack at Feministe is spot on. Because we’re celebrating a fucking travesty of heteronormative behavior; we’re clambering for the right to take part in a patriarchal institution that has never truly served the majority of those who participated in it. End of fucking story. And I believe that. We are turning to our fellows and telling them to scale it down a bit. Scratch that: a lot. We are telling each other that who we are is not good enough, not marketable enough, and that if we want equality we must pretend to be someone else. A little counter-intuitive, anyone?

Jack writes, “And while I don’t begrudge Lyon and Martin or any of the other couples who have found relief and joy in finally being able to marry legally, I do begrudge a movement that has devoted so much time and attention and resources to a cause that does not serve the most crucial needs of the vast majority of queers and that further marginalizes the most marginalized and vulnerable members of the LGBT community, if you can call it a community.”

Amen. Allow me to add what I always add around this time of year: a link to Watching the Defectives over at Joe.My.God. I usually quote the “Way to go for not taking a rifle into a tower and taking out half the town!” bit in the middle, but this year the end is more apt:

“But sometimes I think we are the worst people in the entire world when it comes to standing up for each other. The gay people who’d like to soothe their personal image problems by selectively culling some of our children from Pride events? They disgust me. They appall me. They embarrass me. To them I say: the very road that YOU now have the priviledge of swaggering upon was paved by those very queens and leather freaks that you complain about, as you practice your “masculine” and give us butch face. If you want to live in the house that THEY BUILT, you better act like you fucking know it. United we stand, you snide bitches. America’s kulturkampf ain’t gonna be solved by making flamboyant people go away.

I’ll end this by making one final Jewish reference. Possibly you’ve heard the Jewish in-joke that sums up the meaning of all Jewish holidays? “They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.” My Pride version?

They wish we were invisible.

We’re not.

Let’s dance.”

I’m still celebrating, I’m still all aflutter at the hundreds and thousands of queers who on this day can do something that they couldn’t do yesterday. Hurray, queers! But let’s not forget that we don’t share a perfect vision just because we can all be identified by a handy word or phrase. The only place we’ll ever get to by stepping on each other isn’t one where we’d ever want to be. Fin.

…at least four of them.

So I’ve been obsessively reading the ruling (you can find it everywhere, but Good As You has it niftily embedded; for a .doc version that can be cut and pasted hit the gov website).  As it’s 172 pages long it might take me awhile, but when I’m not squinting through tears I’m planning a series of cross-stitch samplers with excerpts from the opinion.

Really.  It’s incredible.  Who knew that reading about my validity as a human, the validity of my potential family, would be so moving?  Does this mean I’ve been running at a deficit all these years, to be so blown away by a document that states I have an equal right, like any “normal” straight person, to enter into what is ultimately a disgusting history-laden tool of the patriarchy?

And yet…I find that I’m grateful, in a twisted sort of way, to have the opportunity.

More about the conflicts – internal and otherwise – that go into any conversation about marriage.  For now: yea!!!

This has been bumming me out, and finally Pam’s House Blend has the ultimate post about it. The entire thing makes me sick. The Day of Silence is an incredibly – I am loathe to use the mundane “beautiful”, but I find it’s the one that keeps occurring to me – it’s this beautiful, powerful action. Perhaps beautiful is the perfect word, because it’s so basic, so simple. The Day of Silence is a movement of solidarity, infused with irony. The form the activism takes is the opposite of its goal. That’s part of its intensity. The message is that no one should have to be silent. Which is why this bizarre sudden fixation on opposing it is so goddamn depressing. (I’d link to all that, but others have done so and they annoy me, so not today, crazy ex-gay folks.)

Even our silence is offensive to these frigging people. Some days – why do I even get out of bed?

Made far too many refreshing blended drinks today to think straight. And that is extra caramel! Extra doesn’t mean “open the entire bottle and empty contents into my cup”. Seriously.

For updates from the world of Why don’t women ever say what they really mean? comes this shocker: apparently they do.

When are we allowed to invoke the “n” word in bed? Feministe had it first. Pam’s House Blend and Feministing quickly followed.

Jesus christ. What year is it, again?

In related but depressing news, the otherwise entertaining and engaging new show Eli Stone continues to do stupid things to women. C’mon, people! Must we have the two female leads fight over the male lead? Must we then compound their idiocy by having each of them deny that they are interested in a male colleague, only to later reveal they were just playing coy?! Dammit, universe. [Shakes fist.] Why must women always be about men? For a refreshing non-sexually-tense dynamic between two characters of different genders, see New Amsterdam. Has its faults, but at least Amsterdam and his female partner aren’t shooting googoo eyes at each other while standing over dead bodies. It’s a start.

This, from Good As You, regarding the glorious success of the Gay Agenda: we’re winning, y’all. We’re taking over the schools, just like we always planned. It started with Broadway, then Hollywood, and now we’re in Phase Three: Grassroots-level invasion and indoctrination of The Youth. Full speed ahead!

(I really, really want to be on that email list. How many toaster ovens does a girl have to earn before she gets on the list?)

Finally, Confessions of an Elitist. So help me, I like this article. I keep returning to it. It reeks of privileged old white man, but in the context you can squint and read the tone ironically. You don’t have to squint, really, but I squint because in general I don’t really get off on privileged old white man, but I just happen to enjoy this particular piece. So there.

If you want a cup of water, a cup of ice, seven cups for your seven poodles to destroy on the patio, please tell the kind person ringing you up, so they can place that part of your order (just because it’s free, doesn’t mean it is somehow separate from “your order”) with the rest of it. Please do not tell me that you’re waiting for your ice water while I’m juggling steam pitchers with three different types of dairy, two blenders, a half-opened container of Chai concentrate and a hazardously split bag of Matcha green tea powder. If I have seventeen cups in front of me, and I appear to be concentrating on all of them simultaneously, now is not the time to let me know that you “need” a cup of water, for which you will not be paying, for which we will not be earning labor, and goodness knows you have no intention of tipping me for going out of my way while the seventeen people whose drinks I’m postponing in order to pour your water shoot daggers at me with their caffeine-addicted death rays. (At least some of them will be getting you with said rays too; you should consider ducking.)

The end.

Wow. This is some crazy shit.

So, early on in the day we had posts like this one at Feministing. Which was basically a long comments thread about a young woman at Yale who was reported to have undertaken an art project in which she inseminated then self-aborted as frequently as possible during the course of nine months.

(And those of us concerned about someday conceiving through insemination were like, “Um…really? What, you just, like, kept getting pregnant? For reals? Like how many times? And how was the dreaded two-week-wait? Did you have any indication pre-testing that you’d managed to conceive? Were you moody? What method did you use to inseminate? Did you enlist the help of male friends, or did you go up to random strangers in bars so they couldn’t sue you later?”)

So then we had Pandagon basically saying, yeah, this didn’t make any sense. Which lead to this article, ultimately pointing out that the entire thing was an art project. Lindsay Beyerstein is calling it a hoax, and for all I know it is, though by whom I’m not entirely sure (the student or the paper that made her famous?). The most recent article up by aforementioned paper repeatedly uses the term “miscarriage”, which seems a bit misleading to me. (Dictionary.com backs it up: the expulsion of a fetus before it is viable.) But what’s interesting is what’s being said.

Feministing is erring on the side of too much controversy, not enough dialogue. According to the previously mentioned most recent-ish Yale Daily News article, NARAL Pro-Choice America “condemned the exhibition” in an email, no evidence of which is available on the NARAL website.

BitchPhD has what I think is the definitive statement here:

In a way this is a good thing (and probably, to some extent, unavoidable in intelligent social animals).

And in a way, it’s very very fucked up.

Indeed.

This whole thing brings up a pretty interesting idea, which has to do with reactionary defensiveness in the face of perceived judgement. By which I mean to say, the people who will take this entire event and use it to prove the point that, as Jen at Feministing wrote, women are cavalierly getting abortions “just for the heck of it, because they’re bored on a Saturday night or something”, are the people who believe that already, and will use anything at all to make that point.

I think what bothers me here is that while condemning Aliza Shvarts for daring to publicly choose both to conceive and then to abort (well: for daring to imply she had done, anyway), it’s hard to deny that what she’s done is taken freedom of choice to its very extreme end. The argument is being made that the project is insensitive to women who have experienced miscarriage; eh, it’s art, it can be as insensitive as it wants to be. And while as a woman who is looking forward to a rocky road to conception myself, this sort of flaunted conception-self-induced-miscarriage is a little touchy. But you have to understand something about about how fertility works

But Shvarts reiterated Thursday that she repeatedly use a needleless syringe to insert semen into herself. At the end of her menstrual cycle, she took abortifacient herbs to induce bleeding, she said. She said she does not know whether or not she was ever pregnant.

One is only fertile for a handful of days mid-cycle anyway; the end of the cycle is when you’re bound to bleed if you’re not pregnant, so taking herbs to induce bleeding is all well and good on the off chance you managed to conceive (during the days you were actually fertile, and I’ve read nothing so far to indicate that Shvarts had any real idea on that level what she was doing with that needleless syringe). But it’s more than likely that the art project, as it stands, is menstrual blood and shrink wrap.

Of course, if a woman decided to do a menstrual-blood-and-shrink-wrap art piece, she’d probably take a great deal of flak for that, too. For what it’s worth.

Ultimately, the thing is this: I can’t worry about what idiots will say about women. Because once I start buying into any sense of defensiveness I’m playing their game. If I sit here and write that such a controversial act makes it impossible to have a reasonable discourse about a woman’s right to own her body, then I am playing by the rules of the people who refuse to have that conversation in the first place. Fuck those people. All over the world women do not own their bodies. Women’s bodies are frequently seen as just another battle ground. Women in the armed services have more to fear from fellow soldiers than they do from combat. Women in this country have been locked up, “detained” in the lingo, so as to not pollute young soldiers with their nasty vaginas. WordPress doesn’t recognize “vaginas” as a valid word. Penises does not get a red line. Why is that?

So while I agree that the entire thing is distasteful, in its way, I have to applaud the mind that came up with this as a concept. What better way to demonstrate reproductive freedom? Wearing your pro-choice button is great. I’m just saying, this sparks a hell of a lot more discussion.

A tremendous nod to Joe. My. God., whose Pride rant I worship. Those thoughts fueled these. (“Watching the Defectives” link via LesbianDad.)

[ETA – I Blame The Patriarchy covers it best, the saga continues…and the comments are good, as well.]

Shakespeare’s Sister’s Melissa McEwan: “What’s really become obvious to me during this primary is how profoundly unknowledgeable we are about the processes by which misogyny has been conveyed. (Clearly, this primary has exposed the same about historical racism.)”

Dude. Rock. Read it.

Also of note, Pandagon, here: “Clinton’s nomination inspires fears of floor scrubbing”. That’s pretty good.

Yet another point to the Rebecca Traister piece that started it all. She speaks my mind. Mostly, anyway.

I’ve looked it up. Sounds like the ABC travesty hits on a couple of archaic, obsolete definitions (“to fight; quarrel”, “to contend for or over”), but not much in the way of “1. a discussion, as of a public question in an assembly, involving opposing viewpoints”. It’d be nice, though, wouldn’t it?

In any case, of the long long list of debate coverage entries, I liked Atrios the best:

WHY DO YOU HATE THE FOUNDING FATHERS BARACK OBAMA! WHERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FLAG PIN! BEN FRANKLIN WORE A FLAG PIN!

Oh man. That’s rich. I’m still laughing. Probably because I keep hearing Stephen Colbert deliver the line in my head.