Taking Back Idiot Nerd Girl
I thought this was a super interesting take on the meme, seen as how I was at one point a novice too.
I just sit here sometimes like
wow
sexism is still a thing
the fact that sexism was ever a thing
it just
it’s beyond me
a woman pushes you out of her fucking BODY
and you grow up to be like ‘ahahaha women r stupid and weak’
i don’t get how that happens
(Source: mortalsiamdreaming)
I support sex positive feminism because most sex positive feminists are sexy bitches.
I support sex positive feminism because most sex positive feminists are sexy bitches.
remember that one time people thought that heterosexual men and women couldn’t be friends? because they can’t resist banging each other?
and then laci green proved them wrong! with alla that science & history & shit! ;D
film about a group of men getting into shenanigans= “comedy”
film about a group of women getting into shenanigans= “chick flick”film about a friendship between two men= “buddy flick”
film about a friendship between two women= “chick flick”emotional film about father/son relationships= “drama”
emotional film about mother/daughter relationships= “chick flick”film about a young man finding identity= “coming of age”
film about a young woman finding identity= “chick flick”
Things no one tells you:
- Having sex doesn’t make you a whore.
- Not having sex doesn’t make you a saint.
- You don’t have to have kids if you don’t want to.
- You are the only person who has rights over your body.
- You are no one to judge others.
- “Femininity” is not anti-feminist.
- Verbal harassment is not flattery.
- If something makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to endure it.
- You don’t owe anything to anyone.
(Source: viva-la-vulva-zine)
Nothing you’re supposed to know: So I woke up this morning in a pool of my own blood.
crash-into-the-tardis-at-221b:
Wait, let me back up.
Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a week, but considering that my period is pretty much permanently irregular, I get to wake up a lot of mornings in a pool of my own blood. Hmm. Lovely.
I then proceed to dump my sheets, my underwear, and my pajamas in my laundry room in a tub filled with cold water, with the hopes that this time I haven’t ruined them permanently.
What next? Well, a shower of course! To wipe off the smell of rotting blood from my body! Squeaky clean and towel fresh I have about a two minute window before the volcano of blood begins to erupt again from my vagina.
What will it be today? A piece of chlorinated toilet paper cardboard with a string that I get to shove up my hole wherein the blood will sit and rot until the next time I can shove another piece of chlorinated cardboard up the same hole? Or, a plastic lined toilet paper diaper attached to my underwear that causes rug burn to my vaginal area when I walk? Well the later requires less coordination, and it is early, so I guess I’ll be sitting in a period diaper today. The best ever.
Of course, I could always just get birth control, and lessen this whole shit. But 1) I can’t afford it 2) I can’t ask my dad to pay for it because, guess what? Just like the men who run my government, my father correlates birth control with sexual promiscuity! Thus, sitting on my rotting blood, undergoing severe cramps that have on more than one occasion caused me to black out, it is! (Not that birth control is such a walk in the park either, our bodies have to learn to deal with the hormones and other chemicals and consequences that birth control entails.)
Then, I get to go to class, where I have to pretend that I am not a leaky faucet of blood and tissue. I get to sit in Calculus, and if heaven forbid, I need an additional pad, I have to be discrete about it, so as not to offend the men’s gentle sensibilities to the fact that I am the one dropping tissues and blood from my body through my vagina.
I once asked a male to take me to the pharmacy so that I could pick up (GASP) pads, or as we like to call it “feminine products” (again, so as not to offend the gentlemen’s overly sensitive natures) and had him equate me talking about my period to him talking about his erections.
ARE
YOU
FUCKING
KIDDING
ME
No.
This is nothing like your fucking erection’s. I don’t derive any enjoyment from this. I can’t mentally control any ounce of this entire process. I can’t masturbate my problem away. My period does not end in orgasm.
It stays. For at least five days in my case. Draining blood out of my body. Causing me severe cramps, making me irritable -not because I’m uncomfortable (which mind you, would be reason enough) - but because my hormones are all over the place, bloating me up to two sizes larger than I normally am, I have to actively fight not to smell like a fish market, and on top of that, you want me to be hush-hush about this? Because it’s icky for you?
And this is not an attack on that one man, this is an attack on ALL MEN who on top of sitting on their throne of gender privilege want me to stay quiet and be content about the fact that five days out of every month I get to undergo this happiest of joys.
And then, these very same men have the audacity to get annoyed because we don’t want to listen to their bullshit complaining about traffic? Or whatever other meaningless story they happen to tell us while our bodies are actively fighting against us? Then we get to be the butt of their tired-ass jokes? Sorry, I am most certainly not sorry.
I repeat NO. I say women come out of the period closet and say, “You know what, this happens to me. Every. Fucking. Month. And it’s terrible. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MORNING.” Because the truth is, if I live in a country where Viagra is covered by medical insurance, but birth control isn’t, I can no longer keep denying that I live in a country that is actively waging a war on women. And if I live in a country that is actively waging war on my sex, the least I am going to do is break patriarchal social propriety to inform anyone and everyone of the shit biological process I was BLESSED enough to be born into.
Hello, my name is Cara, I’m a 21 year old woman, and today I’m on my period. Let me fucking tell you about it.
Bless you, miss. Bless you.
PREACH!

I’m on my period too and this is exactly how I feel!!!!!
(Source: warmregardscara)
New Comic Day! Add your own alt text for panel 4.
The original text for that last panel was: “Ugh. Society dictates that I sit here and put up with you until you get bored or interrupted, because asking politely for you not to bother me might make you aggressive. However, playing along despite having no interest in pursuing this conversation would make me a ‘tease’ and therefore worthy of insult. Even though I’ve never met you and you’ve invaded my personal space without my permission, asking for the basic right of privacy would be considered ‘causing a scene.’ I hate you for putting me in this position, and you don’t even realize it.”
It didn’t quite fit.
I have lived through Kate’s elaborated text description to this comic so. many. times. Especially in the last twelve months, my Unwanted Scary Male Attention encounters have been through the goddamn roof. It makes me fucking terrified and furious (but secretly, because I’m afraid of bringing out the offending guys’ aggression against me or ‘making a scene’ if I tell them to leave me alone)
Oh, uh huh. And having lived through the experience where I politely indicate to some dude that I’m not interested only to have him turn aggressive AS WELL AS the experience where I do not clearly indicate it because of being afraid of the aggressiveness and then being accused of being a tease and therefore treated aggressively…