evolutionary psychology is sexist pseudoscience

I hate my psychology class.

I find learning about psychology interesting. But I hate the teacher. I don’t want to call him a professor because I feel that implies a certain respect for his teaching abilities, which are nonexistent.

He is focusing now on using evolutionary psychology as an excuse to disseminate his sexist opinions on the roles of men and women. He literally said in class that women stay inside to cook and clean, and men do more outdoor activities and chores, like taking out the trash and shoveling snow.

Read the rest of this entry »

Advertisements

snopes.com is your friend

funny graphs and charts
(It really bugs me that there is an “e” missing in “absolut[e]ly”. It almost spoils the funniness. Almost.)

I never get email forwards at work anymore.

I used to get several a day. “OMFSM!!1! Don’t use pancake mix or u will die from the moldz!!!!!1” “This poem was written by a 9-year-old girl with cancer!! Forward this email and Bill Gates and a Nigerian prince will donate $1 to her for every person you send it to!!!!1!1” I still find it impossible to understand why people keep sending these. Do they actually believe them? How can anyone that gullible still be alive?

At first I tried to ignore them, but the stupidity was so maddening that I started answering. I answered every single one. Several times a day, I would hit my trusty “Reply to All” button—no, I don’t care that you sent it to half your family; I’ll point your stupidity out to them, too—and explain exactly why whatever you forwarded was highly unlikely, or impossible, and just plain idiotic. In a nice way.

Slowly, the emails stopped, and now my inbox is 100% free of teh stoopid.

I guess these chainmail-perpetuators are just in it for the thrill of hitting the forward button. They don’t really care what the email says or whether or not it’s true. Or maybe they are just superstitious enough to not want to take the chance—however slim or obviously nonexistant—that they will die from pancake mix mold.

origin of the word “sissy”

I was curious about it, so I googled it and found this:

sissy 1846, “sister,” extended form of sis. Meaning “effeminate man” is recorded from 1887; the adj. in this sense is from 1891.

So, calling someone a sissy is calling them “sister”. Why is it so bad for a man to have traditionally “feminine” characteristics?

The only way this could make sense is if being a woman or having “feminine” characteristics is bad. Wrong. Worse than being a man.

It’s only logical. Yet people still don’t see that we live in a sexist society? This is maddening.

There is a woman that I work with who is in my generation. I am 24, she is a very young 30. I like her a lot—she is a good, fun person. But she constantly uses feminine words to belittle men—in a joking, teasing way. Ha ha. So funny. “You sound like a little girl!” “Why are you walking like a woman?” Ha. See how funny that is?

It makes me angry whenever I hear it. But I don’t want to start a Serious Discussion in the middle of work (in the middle of her funny funny joke) about why that is sexist and demeaning to women.

Once, she and another woman were sitting in the break room at work talking. I went in to grab a coffee. They were talking about an ex of hers, and how he had hung out with a friend making s’mores one time. “That’s so gay!” “I would have dumped him for that!” I told them that was sexist and tried to explain, but it was like they just shut me out. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to think too hard.

I get this reaction a lot from people, when I want to discuss something, or be serious for a bit, or really think in depth about something. Most people I guess are threatened by that? They don’t want to think too hard. They don’t want their little paradigm to be pushed a little, shifted just a tiny bit. They don’t even want to consider it.

Living like that seems awfully dull and shallow to me.

my beautiful hairy legs

I was talking to a friend yesterday who I haven’t seen in a while. During our conversation she was excited to tell me she recently had electrolysis done on her chin. She was so happy about it — it was only $65 US, the doctor was very friendly and warm, and it was easily done in only two sessions, and should be permanent. I’m happy for her, since she always hated the hairs on her chin and was relieved not to have to worry about them anymore. She offered me the name and phone number of the place she went to, since I’ve mentioned my interest in the past.

I’ve been thinking, though. I have always hated my leg hair. Hated with a burning passion. Unlike Celine Dion, my legs are not covered in a beautifully soft peach fuzz. I have dark, think, coarse, black hairs (which I have often compared to spider legs) on my pale white legs. I would be incredibly embarrassed if anyone were to see them. I shave in the summer, but even then I don’t often wear shorts because even after I shave, you can see the hair under the skin. My legs are unacceptable to society.

That would be my reason for getting electrolysis. Because I am embarrassed by the natural hair on my legs, because society has conditioned me to find my natural state repulsive. Because of this, I think it would be wrong of me to do it. I want to do it. Believe me when I say I would love to have smooth, hairless legs for once in my life. To be able to wear shorts whenever I wanted, and to change in front of my boyfriend without being embarrassed, even though he says — and I believe him — he doesn’t care. To go to the beach and not constantly worry that I’m grossing everyone out with my disgusting legs.

But because I am now a feminist, and because I believe that I should not feel this way, and neither should anyone else, it would be wrong for me to do it. I would be buying into society’s definition of beauty. I would be agreeing with them that the hair on my legs is disgusting. That my natural self is disgusting.

I’m not at the point yet where I could go on stage in front of thousands of people with unshaven legs. I’m still trying to accept my body, and find it beautiful. But the point is that I’m trying. I’m fighting, and I’m defying. It may not seem like much, but every tiny step moves us forward. Every unafraid hairy-legged woman makes our natural bodies a little more accepted, a little less taboo.

reblog: “FYI”

from Shakesville by Misty:

“I really, really love it when I’m in line waiting for a customer service type person (CSTP) to assist me and the CSTP completely bypasses me by speaking to a man waiting either in front of or behind me in line–because the CSTP assumes that I must be with the man (as noted in their surprise/apology-like mumblings when I speak up).

Because I couldn’t possibly have my own business to attend to.”

« Older entries