woensdag 25 september 2013

EMO: Confessions of a slut

You could make grown men gasp when you'd go walking past them

- Garbage

I don't want to live on this planet anymore

People, the world is in the slut shaming business. And frankly, I don't care for it. I try to fight for causes that I believe in, such as gender equality, the end of any type of discrimination and trying to respect every human being, even though they do not believe the same things as I do. I try to be sensible and think through everything I say when I go into a discussion with someone who has a different opinion than me. But man, sometimes people can be bitches and I facepalm. I FACEPALM, MY FRIENDS. And I weep for humanity. Okay, let's not be this theatrical, but I am serious when I say that I get a very unsettling feeling in my stomach that makes me want to punch puppies (which I never do obviously, because puppies are the best, but all the more reason this type of thing upsets me).

What AM I talking about, you ask? Well, lemme put it down for you, G. More than a month ago, I went to a wedding. The guy that was getting married was one of the kids in a family that has known my family since, basically, the day I was born. That's almost twenty years! When we were kids, we played with barbiedolls and lego, we smashed each other in videogames and did all the fun stuff that kids do together. As life progressed, we got to see less and less of each other, because that's what life does. You go in different directions, you grow up faster or slower, someone gets a boyfriend earlier on or tries to focus on their schoolwork more. You get the picture, right? But my mom always stayed close to their mom, so sometimes I heard when someone broke up with their girlfriend or boyfriend or I sent them a happy birthday when it was that time of the year.

So, the guy that got married is the sweetest guy and married the most beautiful, sweet and intelligent woman and I was incredibly honored and happy to be part of their special day. They looked gorgeous and happy together and I cried when they read their wedding vows. I knew what he went through to get to this point in his life, and I felt very proud and happy for him.

How my underwear got to be the topic of a facebook discussion

Now comes the most important part of the whole day: WHAT WAS I WEARING? I'm not kidding, people. Someone got married and people were worried about what I was wearing. How did those worries, that I care exactly ZERO POINT ZERO about, find their way into my life so that I started caring about them? Facebook. You see, my sister and me are part of a discussion group that sometimes feature subjects that I really care about, like fat shaming, feminism and slut shaming. The subject of slut shaming came up and one of the brothers from the guy that recently got married reacted on the discussion. One of his points was that, once a man sees a woman in a sexual context, they can't easily unsee it. Those were opinions that I don't care for and I feel that they add to the world in a very negative way, but my sister was already on a roll with telling him off in every possible way, so I tried to make a joke and stated my own opinion. Which boils down to "Slut shaming's bad, mmkay." Because you shouldn't judge people on the length of their skirt or the amount of sexy selfies they post on the internet, that's the oldest lesson in the book. I don't know about you guys, but my mom wasn't the most traditional mom and yet still she taught me not to judge a book by it's cover, however short of long that cover may be.

The facebook discussion carried on, with the high point being the following: the guy we were discussing slut shaming with, told me, to prove his point, that he saw black underwear showing through my cream dress at the wedding. And a month later, he still can't unsee that shit. Poor guy was traumatised by my wardrobe malfunction, if there was actually any underwear showing through. I looked in the mirror a gazillion times before we left for the wedding, my mom, boyfriend and parents in law never saw anything and my sister owned the dress previously, stating that there is no showing through of the underwear with that dress. Now, whether or not the underwear was showing through, let's come to a conclusion that's pretty obvious, shall we? When someones underwear is showing through their dress, it's USUALLY not on purpose. You should probably think "woops, that's a little silly/painful" and maybe tell the person so they can, I dunno, change their underwear or at least be aware of that fact. Or, see it for the fucking futile thing it is and let it go. The latter being the most obvious and intelligent thing to do, no? Or am I being holier than thou?

The discussion on facebook ended not very long after my sister called him out, telling him to back the fuck away from her sister (love ya, sis <3) and me stating that I had no idea whatsoever about my underwear and that he made me feel kinda crappy about myself. After some other people told him that he needed to apologize, he stated "I'm sorry" and continued to talk about why he came to the vile decision of talking about my underwear in a facebook discussion group. It wasn't terribly interesting, so I zoned out and I continued living my godforsaken, black underwear wearing life like the terrible slut I am (I'm really joking here, you guys, I don't feel sorry for myself :D).

You're usually such a sensible girl!

I thought "well, I never thought my underwear would be the topic of a discussion unless it was with my boyfriend or my sister" because you know, boyfriends are interested in underwear and sisters discuss patterns and cuts of anything, including thongs. Now, weeks later, I hear my mom having a heated discussion with someone on the phone, which is odd. My mom is a peaceful new age chick, never wanting to go "into conflict" with anybody. But now, my underwear was the lady of the hour again! Oh happy day, mama! Apparently, the family that I previously mentioned had been discussing my underwear! Not only the guy on facebook, but his brother, sister and mother too! The guy that had gotten married not so much, because he probably don't give a rats ass and I respect that very much. The conclusion of the family? I looked "inappropriate" and they "expected more from me" because I'm usually such a sensible and intelligent girl.

Lesson learned: the sluttier the dress, the dumber you are! As your hemline rises, your IQ lowers! I don't have a picture of the dress, but the concept was like this one:

But fancier, creamier, the neckline higher and sleeveless. I was deemed "inappropriate". I was slut shamed by almost an entire family that has known me since I was a baby, prancing around in diapers. Maybe you think "Tssk tssk, Naomi, what are you so miffed about? Everybody gossips about the way people dress at parties!" Well, read on!

The part where I get on my high horse

I know about the world. When you're a girl, you get judged from the get go. Kids in elementary school judged me because I had a funny accent and because I was chubby. You learn that the world is a superficial and hard place, even when you're a kid. When puberty comes along, it all gets worse. Your body is suddenly the most important thing in the world and everybody gets a say in it. The way you dress is always wrong and what you say is always wrong, because there will always be somebody that will disagree with you. As you get older, you realise that you'd rather not give a fuck about what other people think of you. Does that actually ever happen? I don't think so. Everybody cares about what other people think. Especially the people that you love, people that you've known for a long time, people that should know you for the person you are. People that should know better than to judge you by the showing of your underwear.

I am aware of the way our world works. People judge because people judge them. But most importantly, people judge because it's a lot fucking easier to just go around judging people than to question your own thoughts and actions before you go and soil the world with the opinions nobody cares about. Think about this: somewhere, there's a girl that's been called a slut one too many times because she wore a short skirt to school. She feels so bad about herself that she starts questioning whether she's even a decent human being. Maybe she stops caring, maybe she goes through years of therapy trying to make up for the lack of self-esteem, maybe she starts cutting herself. What matters most, people? Feeling good after you come to the conclusion and talking about the fact that somebody is a dumb whore because she wore something inappropriate, in your most humble opinion, or realising that you're just being judgy and that you should know better by now and try to think twice before you become sheeple that judge because others judge too?

Have you not been judged? Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't do unto other what you don't want others to do unto you. I do enjoy the irony of quoting the bible on the topic of slutshaming.

I just wish that people would care about the emotional wellbeing of the other person moreso than about feeling the need to put a stamp on someone.

So today I stand before you as a slut. And you know what? I will fly my slut flag proudly. Sorry to all the poor underpriveleged guys who won't ever be able to unsee me in my bikini, being a total skankho.

Bikini: H&M

I will end my rant by sharing Amanda Palmer.

Dear Daily Mail and other slut shamers,




vrijdag 19 juli 2013

EMO: A Simple Kind of Life

Good girls are happy and satisfied
I won't stop asking until I die

- Robyn

Bloggers and friends, princes and thieves, sisters and brothers, I have not forsaken you. I've been kind of reorganizing my life. It's strange and different and good and wonderful. My school year ended on a positive note and I started my summerjob, working in a shoestore. Since the place I'm still officially living with the momster is in a little hole of a town where I couldn't find a summer job if I would turn over every rock, I'm temporarily living with the boyfriend. Which is all going really fucking amazing and I can't believe it. You see, this is one of the first times in my 19-year-old life that I'm in a completely normal, secure and happy situation without threat of it changing once I turn around. I'm not quite used to it yet.

You see, I'm the kind of person that seems quite figured out, calm and confident to the outside world while I'm actually questioning everything that happens, inside my own head and to the people closest to me. Sometimes, I feel like I'm waiting until the happy times are through and things go back to normal. Normal being "fucked up". These past few months have been the most amazing time in my life and while I fully realise that and am incredibly happy, I've come to the conclusion that I've never been more insecure either. Trying to maintain your own identity and figuring out what exactly is happening while you're living life is tough shit. When you're used to your life going a certain way, whether that's insecure and unhappy or otherwise, it's strange to suddenly come to the conclusion that life can be, in fact, pretty good. Relationships can be positive and easy. Friendships can be full of unconditional love and respect. Family can be supportive and fun. Obviously it's a positive conclusion, yet coming to the conclusion that life is not what you expected it to be is unsettling. I lived a big part of my life thinking that life will kick you in the cojones anyways so you might as well get used to it. There are so many things that can get you down and double that amount can kick you while you're already down. We keep getting up, because that's the only thing we can do, but everytime our heart gains another scratch and our ass gains another bruise. 

Now, in the last couple of months, my heart has been recovering and my ass has only been bruised because of my own clumsy shenanigans. I've gone to see The Who, my true love, with my other true love in Amsterdam. Thinking back to the last time I saw The Who, when I was a wee gal of only 13, I realised once again how much life changes. But this time, it changed for the better. Insecurities are part of growing up and part of life, I guess. To quote The Muppets, because they're my soulmates, You always believe in other people, but that's easy. Sooner or later, you gotta believe in yourself, too, because that's what growing up is. Right in the heart, Muppet, right in the bleeding heart.

Next time I leave 2 months in between blogposts, come and slap me, will you? I miss clearing my mind while you poor ol' souls have to read my ramblings. I want to share a picture with you of my dudebro love & yours truly, because you have been my loyal readers and I've shared bad times with you quite often. Now it's time for some positive shite, DARN IT!

And I want to share my last photography project with you too! For one of my photography classes I had to do a presentation about a photographer and take pictures inspired by his or her work. I chose Cindy Sherman (please check her out, she's amazing and feminist!) and took the following pictures for my class:

I'm defintely way more into the simple black and white pictures but they were loads of fun to do. My teacher told me I could've been Cindy Sherman's little sister with a talent for self portraits and a possible future in teaching. I'm a happy little photographer in the making! 

Peace out, lovers. STAY FRESH.

donderdag 2 mei 2013

Rant: That Weird Chick

So this is one of my "weirdest" outfits in a while and I felt pretty awesome wearing it. I wear strange things from time to time and people stare at me. I get people staring and pointing and I wonder why I bother wearing strange things because people take appearances so seriously. I have these moments where I wonder why I wear "strange" things. Do I want attention? Do I want to make a statement? Do I feel like being a rebel or do I like shocking people? Am I one of those stereotypical young girls who's trying to "find" herself? Am I trying to say something meaningful when I'm, in fact, full of quasi-sense making bullshit? I question things and I wonder. After every time I think or talk about this, be it with my sister, Mr. Canon Girl or Jules, I come to the same conclusion: it doesn't really matter.

Whatever reasoning is behind what you wear, you convey a certain image to the outside world. That image may be that of a prep, a jock, a punk or a girl-next-door. People will judge you. You might judge you. But somewhere along the line you forget why you're actually wearing something: because you fucking FEEL like it. Sometimes I feel like wearing short skirts or a snakeskinprint skinny. People will feel the need to tell me that my legs are too thick to wear said clothing items. Because of that, I will start questioning why I wear it. Do I WANT people to say things like that? Am I provoking them, by having these legs and putting them in certain pants? Or am I just wearing PANTS? Life is made way too complicated, I can tell you that. The most important thing to realise is the following: it's all just opinions. I've been called "easter bunny", "ugly" and "cool girl" in the last couple of weeks by random people/kids on the street. I guess I have to live with the fact that, as long as I choose to come across as "extreme" in one way or another, people will react in extreme ways. A flock of insecure fourteen-year-old girls might call me ugly and point their fingers at me. A group of laughing twelve-year-old girls will scream out "check out that cool girl!" and smile at me. 

Either way, after thinking about the art that is walking down the street in a society that tells people their opinions matter, I stand in front of my closet. I look at the colors, prints and take a look in the mirror. My hair needs shaving. My eyebrow might need piercing. When I want to close my closet doors, a bright green oversized shirt catches my eye and I feel like wearing it with something purple. That's how the magic happens, people. I don't have grand philosophies about my wardrobe choices. I don't think "Let's kick the world in the balls today!".

Sometimes, the chick in the weird clothing just liked the idea of putting green and purple together and called it a day.

Dress, earrings: H&M    Shirt: Vintage    Tights: Veritas  Sneakers: Pimkie   Belt: Dad's   Ring, bracelet: Vintage

Next post will be YET ANOTHER nerd convention/cosplay post! And I will finally present Mr. Canon Girl to you. Peace out, blogbabes.