The reasons why many men pay for sex are revealed in the interviews that make up a major new piece of research
But another of the interviewees left me feeling concerned. Darren was young, good-looking and bright; I asked him how often he thought the women he paid enjoyed the sex. “I don’t want them to get any pleasure,” he told me. “I am paying for it and it is her job to give me pleasure. If she enjoys it I would feel cheated.” I asked if he felt prostitutes were different to other women. “The fact that they’re prepared to do that job where others won’t, even when they’re skint, means there’s some capability inside them that permits them to do it and not be disgusted,” he said. He seemed full of a festering, potentially explosive misogyny.
When asked what would end prostitution, one interviewee laughed and said, “Kill all the girls.” Paul told me that it would take “all the men to be locked up”. But most of them told the researchers that they would be easily deterred if the current laws were implemented. Fines, public exposure, employers being informed, being issued with an Asbo or the risk of a criminal record would stop most of the men from continuing to pay for sex. Discovering the women were trafficked, pimped or otherwise coerced would appear not to be so effective. Almost half said they believed that most women in prostitution are victims of pimps (“the pimp does the psychological raping of the woman,” explained one). But they still continued to visit them.
This is what we mean when we say men hate women. You don’t even have to dig very deeply. They will tell you themselves.
“I’m glad that Shonda Rhimes ‘SAW’ me and said ‘Why Not.’ That’s what makes her a visionary. That’s what makes her iconic. I think that beauty is subjective. I’ve heard that statement (less classically beautiful) my entire life. Being a dark skinned Black woman, you heard it from the womb. And ‘classically not beautiful’ is a fancy term for saying ugly. And denouncing you. And erasing you. Now…it worked when I was younger. It no longer works for me now. It’s about teaching a culture how to treat you. Because at the end of the day, you define you.”—Viola Davis (via mydearestlola)
Hey, so I am looking for action. I know you mostly make comics and reblog news stories that make me hate my country, which is action in and of itself, but I would really appreciate it if you could collect any good ideas for action at the moment. Can we make a difference and how do we do it? idk if you have an Muslim followers who could make suggestions as to what they would see as useful support. Or if you just happen to know this stuff already. I'm feeling kinda useless at present.
Can I throw it out there - does anyone know what can we can do to support Muslim Aussies?
Australia really needs to talk about its racism. The government and opposition start banging on on terrorism and all of a sudden it’s hunting-season on innocent Muslim Aussies. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians are too many living in squalor. Indian students are wary of coming here. Home and Away and Neighbours can’t cast a PoC to save their life. People refer to themselves as ‘Australian’ in a way that suggests Vietnamese Australian, Greek Australian, Aboriginal Australian or Korean Australians are something different. We all need to talk about racism and confront it wherever we see it. We need to change the culture, one dumb joke or racist dating preference or school bully at a time.
Over the last week or so in Australia a boy with dark skin was threatened with beheading, a woman had her head smashed against a wall and was thrown off a train, mosques and cars have been vandalised, people are being abused in the street and social media is littered with hate speech and vile comments. Kind of interesting considering most of these people justify their attacks by linking Islam to terrorism and proclaiming it’s a hateful religion from violent countries.
People are unreal. Thankfully most people are smart enough that they do not believe this; and the ones who do, know better than to say anything that revolting within earshot of me. However, once in a while a few individuals, usually virtual strangers or sometimes complete strangers (often after first asking you a series of prying and inappropriate questions about the details of your disability, and how it affects your life) — afterwards will feel compelled to inform you that, although a life with disability is perfectly ok for someone like you — for someone as special and as instrumental to the world as they are, living with a disability is such an anathema, that would render their existence so pointless, that the only logical thing for them to do would be to commit suicide. These are like the über-nosy people who slow down on the highway to gawk at motor vehicle accidents. Sometimes you run into a more sinister type, the sort that could potentially be one of those low-life lookie-loos who Tweet unauthorized gory photos of crime victims. Sure, they really do get off by quenching this thirst they have for (what they see as) morbid curiosities, but I have gotten the feeling that the run-of-the-mill rude questions they open with, are often just a pretext. They serve a perfunctory purpose as an opening salvo for their splashy “suicide” polemic.
Perhaps in their little minds they think that (by proclaiming living life with a disability is so unacceptable, they’d rather die) they’re telling everyone that they’re so strong… and that we actually believe them. Unbeknownst to them, what they are, in fact, revealing (other than boorishness, ignorance, a complete lack of manners and a woeful dearth of social skills) is that they live lives constantly ruled by fear, they have little or no faith in their other abilities (assuming they have any), and that they are so very weak — extremely so — both mentally and psychologically. They might even be so filled with hate that this is their passive-aggressive way of telling you that they think you should do this… as if anyone would give a rat’s ass what they think about anything, much less predicate any decision based on their opinion.
Since they think it’s appropriate to say everything they’re thinking, sometimes I like to return the favor by looking those people — dead in the eye and saying something like:
"Weird — I was thinking nearly the same thing about you. I can’t imagine how awful life must be to live as a shallow, small minded, weak-willed individual!"
"You’d end your own life? Wouldn’t happen. You’d find out that people are so helpful. We’ve only known each other five minutes, but I guarantee you there’d be a long waiting list of people who’d be glad to do it for you."
I’ve never heard a man say: “Not all women are like that.” or “But my mother is not like that!!” not even “My girlfriend is not like that.” “My wife is not like that.” “My sister is not like that.” “Please stop generalising women.” Haha. Won’t happen.
i’ll take down nations. i’ll destroy men. I’ll fucking become the next president. I’ll make the next sistine chapel. I’ll find a cure for cancer, all while being the biggest fucking fangirl of a boyband in the entire world. because guess what??? being aware and socially concious and having big dreams does not correlate to how many times i dance in my underwear to what makes you beautiful
My Least Favorite Trope (and this post will include spoilers for The Lego Movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Matrix, Western Civilization, and—cod help me—Bulletproof Monk*.) is the thing where there’s an awesome, smart, wonderful, powerful female character who by all rights ought to be the Chosen One and the hero of the movie, who is tasked with taking care of some generally ineffectual male character who is, for reasons of wish fulfillment, actually the person the film focuses on. She mentors him, she teaches him, and she inevitably becomes his girlfriend… and he gets the job she wanted: he gets to be the Chosen One even though she’s obviously far more qualified. And all he has to do to get it and deserve it is Man Up and Take Responsibility.
And that’s it. Every god-damned time. The mere fact of naming the films above and naming the trope gives away the entire plot and character arc of every single movie.
After NBC debuted its three-hour block of Shonda Rhimes programming on Thursday, including Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal and How To Get Away with Murder, we asked four black women to explain the significance of this TV event
Could you explain the whole "i don’t really have depression, i’m actually just a lazy piece of shit" = you've got depression, thing? It rang a bell for me and I'd like to know what you meant. Thanks :)
one of the most insidious things about depression is it doesn’t ‘feel’ like depression. even when you have it, you know you have it, you’ve been diagnosed—you still find yourself thinking, no, nope, this isn’t it, can’t be. it’s like the mental illness equivalent of that knight in monty python that keeps going ‘it’s a flesh wound! i’m fine, really! this is just a scratch, i’ll be up in a moment!’ even after all his limbs have been hacked off and he’s lying there helpless.
one of the most common narratives around it is that no one realizes they have depression until they start checking off what they consider to be normal aspects of their lives—and personal character flaws— against the checklist for depression symptoms. really key symptoms include:
lack of motivation
constant tiredness, even exhaustion
finding no pleasure or satisfaction in activities they used to like, or that they know should feel good
not seeing the point of doing anything
increased and even unmanageable anxiety and fearfulness
any one of these symptoms drains away your ability to do work, cope with setbacks, overcome difficulties, or stop procrastinating. multiple symptoms create a pretty perfect storm of intertia and anxious self-loathing. you stop doing anything because it’s hard to get going, unpleasant while you’re at it, and afterwards there’s no reward. why bother, right? and when you’re always tired you get conservative of what little energy you can manage, and when you only feel emotions on the ‘empty to miserable’ spectrum you get really aversive to making mistakes. the whole mess very quickly and very insidiously loads every single thing in your life with toxic emotional baggage.
and then someone says to you— or you say to yourself, ‘stop being lazy’. and that haunts you forever. because you’re lazy! the work is so easy. everyone else does it. everyone but you, you lazy asshole, lying around all day not doing this totally easy thing that you should be able to but aren’t. you don’t have depression! of course not. mental illness is for victims, is for blameless innocent people who can’t be blamed for being so understandably sick. but you can be blamed. you have a character flaw, and it’s getting worse by the minute.
and that is how people who have been diagnosed, who have been medicated, who have been through therapy, can still spend all day hiding in bed and chewing themselves up over their failure to just somehow magically be a good, healthy, useful person, instead of treating themselves to a sick day and saying ‘yup! it’s depression. i need to be kind to myself.’