Sheriff’s Office Re-Victimizes Rape Survivors

Originally posted on The Belle Jar:

Trigger warning for rape

When Lori O’Brannon found a card in the mail from Clark County Sheriff’s office addressed to her 18 year old daughter Josie, she didn’t give it much thought. The card, a blue, standard post-card sized piece of cardboard, said that the evidence department had something to release to Josie. Lori figured that it was probably something innocent enough, left over from Josie’s wilder days when, as Lori put it, Josie had “been in trouble” a few times. So Lori called the number on the card, made an appointment, and drove Josie to pick up the “evidence.”

Neither of them could have predicted what was actually in the brown paper bag that the Sheriff’s office handed to her: a soiled grey shorts and a pair of women’s underwear. Both Josie and Lori recognized the articles immediately – they were what Josie had been wearing just over three years earlier, when she’d been…

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The One To Value Most

mandaray:

I can relate to so much of what’s in this post. Some strange and even damaging things can happen at the crossroads of caring for people we love, and feeling like we as individuals can constantly “put ourselves off”. It’s good to keep reminding ourselves that we’re important, too, and that the promises we make to ourselves carry just as much weight as those we would make to others.

Originally posted on Word Flows:

There are a lot of things I’m struggling with lately. Some are things I’ve had trouble with my whole life. A few of these I’m finally making some headway with lately though. The biggest one is self-worth.

I’ve never been good at valuing myself. In examine my thoughts and attitudes on this, on me, the parse that comes to mind is “It’s only me.” Wrong attitude, I know. I’m working to change that, but acknowledging this is my starting point. I have always placed more value on everyone in my life, especially those I love, than I ever did in myself.

This isn’t good on a number of levels, partly because I tend not to take proper care of myself. “It’s only me, I can make due with less.” But then it makes it hard to be there for those I care about. But it’s more than just that. I…

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When Bad Allies Get “Good Guy” Awards

Originally posted on Make Me a Sammich:

Clymerquote3A while back I wrote about fake allies—specifically, Charles Clymer, a cis white dude who used to run a popular Facebook page called “Equality for Women” but shut it down amidst accusations that, among other things, he was deleting comments from and banning women who questioned his views or the way he ran the page. And then there was his abusive verbal flaying of Stephanie Kay in a private conversation that went public a year or so ago and revealed the dude beneath the Perfect Feminist Ally act. It didn’t help that when called on that tirade, Clymer basically stood by his remarks and went on to admit—almost proudly—that his goal is to become a professional Feminist Leader. And he dug himself in deeper when, following the many accusations leveled at him directly and via the #StopClymer hashtag (by nearly every woman who had been a moderator at the EFW Facebook page, among others)…

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hiding from my own eyes

bi_flag

Recently, The Twitterz informed me that it was Bisexual Awareness Week. Prior to this, I had no idea such a thing even existed, and to be honest I was pretty surprised that Bis got a whole week and not just a haphazard day. And as soon as I read that phrase, there was a tiny voice inside me that said, very insistently,

“Hey! You should talk about this! This is a good time to come out officially and publicly!”

And then a much louder, heavier voice replied, “Don’t bother. Nobody cares. Most of your friends already know anyway, and besides, it’s not like you actually went through anything traumatic or painful. You’d be taking space away from those who need it.”

So I closed the tweet, and moved on.

But that littler voice hasn’t gone away. It keeps nagging me in the middle of the night. “Say something,” it insists. “You’ve been silent long enough.” I swear to you, I have written and rewritten the opening of this post several times in my head already, often right before I fall asleep. And maybe I am taking up too much space by writing this. I really hope not. The logical part of my brain suggests that those worries are just more lies I’ve told myself, just like I’ve told myself lies about my own sexuality for as long as I can remember.

That’s what this post is about, by the way. How I managed to lie to myself and everyone else for almost 24 years, and never even noticed it.

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An Anti-Feminist Walks Into a Bar: A Play in Five Acts

mandaray:

brb, laughing so hard my sides split. XD

Originally posted on Whatever:

PROLOGUE

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

ACT IV

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