all women were bigger and stronger than you
and thought they were smarter
women were the ones who started wars
too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos
and no K-Y Jelly
the state trooper
who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike
was a woman
and carried a gun
the ability to menstruate
was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs
your attractiveness to women depended
on the size of your penis
every time women saw you
they’d hoot and make jerking motions with their hands
women were always making jokes
about how ugly penises are
and how bad sperm tastes
you had to explain what’s wrong with your car
to big sweaty women with greasy hands
who stared at your crotch
in a garage where you are surrounded
by posters of naked men with hard-ons
men’s magazines featured cover photos
of 14-year-old boys
tucked into the front of their jeans
and articles like:
“How to tell if your wife is unfaithful”
“What your doctor won’t tell you about your prostate”
“The truth about impotence”
the doctor who examined your prostate
was a woman
and called you “Honey”
you had to inhale your boss’s stale cigar breath
as she insisted that sleeping with her
was part of the job
you couldn’t get away because
the company dress code required
you wear shoes
designed to keep you from running
And what if
after all that
women still wanted you
to love them.
For the Men Who Still Don’t Get It, written 20 years ago by Carol Diehl.
She wrote a post about the history of this poem that is worth reading.
I cannot remember a single Thanksgiving before 2006.
Thanksgiving of 2006 stands out to me for several reasons. It was my first Thanksgiving in college and my first and only time I had two Thanksgiving meals. I was still dating my high school boyfriend, so we started at his family’s house and ended at mine. Subsequent Thanksgivings since are memorable in the sense that I can picture them, and small details (Thanksgiving before Chile and New York, Thanksgiving after Chile and New York), but no matter, they still stick out in my mind.
High school and middle school Thanksgivings are completely forgettable for me. I remember small details, such as the necessity and excitement of watching the Macy’s Parade* and the few times my dad got into the Thanksgiving football game on TV. Other details, emotions, thoughts, etc are completely missing.**
Apparently, I’m not alone on this.*** My mom was counting through various Thanksgivings based on random events and small details, including measuring limbs and drinking with my great aunt.
This Thanksgiving will stand out mostly for unusual and unique details. That it is Hanukkah, and I may never experience these two holidays at the same time in my lifetime. That my sister is only just getting in today, which is severely cutting into our sisterly bonding. That I helped cook, and thus helped dictate the menu to include latkes.
And who knows, looking back, this Thanksgivukkah may fall by the way side with earlier celebrations. But the important things are there: just the four of us (minus the pets), eating good food, three of us partaking in vino, and watching something ridiculous on Netflix.
*The irony of needing to watch the parade then while continually missing the actual parade in New York is not lost on me.
**As an active journal-er, I’m sure I could dig up what actually happened/what I thought on those earlier T-Givings, but at this very moment, I just don’t give an eff.
I will make an effort to leave the house and my pets today, if it’s only to visit my one friend who lives in the area. I’m feeling more useless than usual, but holiday cooking is coming, and I’m allowed to be a bum on the most gluttonous of holiday seasons, right?!
“Don’t make compromises, don’t worry about making a bunch of money or being successful. Be concerned about doing good work. Protect your work and if you build a good name, eventually that name will be its own currency. Life is like a roller coaster ride, it is never going to be perfect. It is going to have perfect moments and rough spots, but it’s all worth it.”—Patti Smith (via cajunboy)
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”—Steve Jobs, 1955-2011 (via marieclairemag)
If a young woman in middle school or high school hangs up a poster of Barack Obama in her room, this is seen as acceptable. It’s fine for women to admire men and want to be like them.
If a young man (the same age) hangs up a poster of Hillary Clinton in his room, this is seen as odd (maybe even troubling, is he gay? Oh no!).
Society tells us young men can’t think of women as role models, unless they’re a family member, whereas young women can admire and seek to emulate anyone, regardless of gender.
If you’re a young man, and if you have a poster on your wall with a woman, she had better be half-naked in a bikini, even if the Ronald Reagan or Gen. Patton poster next to it obviously features the man fully-clothed.
Young men are not to taught to think of women as role models. They are taught to think of them as either family members or sexual objects. There is no other category presented.