Back for a random pondering!
I've been obsessed with LMFAO's newest single and video, "I'm Sexy And I Know It". I find it absolutely hilarious and fun, with all of the sparkles, leopard print, silly dancing, and catchy beats. It features LMFAO and some dancers strutting around Venice Beach in these sweet, rainbow, animal-print Speedos, and doing ungainly sexy dance moves that celebrate their sexiness. There's a lot of hip thrusts and jiggling dong-silhouettes, and a lot of tearaway shorts.
I posted the video on my cosplay Facebook account and got a few likes, and a couple of comments from folks who thought the wobbling man-bits were disturbing and not so fun. A day or so later, I posted the same lyric from the song - I'm sexy and I know it. Wigglewigglewiggle, yeah! - with no context from the video. That fetched plenty of comments and 52 "Likes" in six hours. Perhaps the Overanalytical Fairy is paying me a visit, but it seemed to me that jiggling bits and sexy lyrics are only attractive when attached to a female body. I swear, if it had been women thrusting their crotches around and shaking their hips in those exact same dance moves, it would've been a whole different ball game. I don't think folks who Liked my status knew what I was referring to, I think they thought I came up with it myself, to apply to myself. Again, perhaps I'm just squinting too hard, but I thought that was mighty coincidental.
Today I also read a completely heartbreaking article about men being raped in places of violent conflict (this particular one focused on Uganda), and how it was nearly impossible for them to receive any sort of sympathy, help, or treatment from their families, friends, authorities, medical facilities, or non-profit organizations. These victims were brutalized just as horrifically as women were, but all doors were closed to them. Being violated meant that they failed to maintain the strictly-defined gender expectations of Manhood and therefore were no longer Men. Wives would leave their husbands, hospitals would give them a mild painkiller, and organizations dedicated to rehabilitating female victims would be unwilling (unable?) to provide the same intensive physical, mental, and emotional support and resources necessary for recovery. The whole article was really, really difficult to read and there were parts I had to gloss over because it was too much for me to take in.
What a difficult, weird, illogical box we live in, with all of this gender crap. Sometimes I want to not give a fuck, and other times like today, there's nothing I can do but to give so many fucks, over and over and over again. From glitter crotches to horrifying acts of violation, humans are completely defined by the general term, "Gender", and it makes absolutely no fucking sense to me sometimes.
I posted the video on my cosplay Facebook account and got a few likes, and a couple of comments from folks who thought the wobbling man-bits were disturbing and not so fun. A day or so later, I posted the same lyric from the song - I'm sexy and I know it. Wigglewigglewiggle, yeah! - with no context from the video. That fetched plenty of comments and 52 "Likes" in six hours. Perhaps the Overanalytical Fairy is paying me a visit, but it seemed to me that jiggling bits and sexy lyrics are only attractive when attached to a female body. I swear, if it had been women thrusting their crotches around and shaking their hips in those exact same dance moves, it would've been a whole different ball game. I don't think folks who Liked my status knew what I was referring to, I think they thought I came up with it myself, to apply to myself. Again, perhaps I'm just squinting too hard, but I thought that was mighty coincidental.
Today I also read a completely heartbreaking article about men being raped in places of violent conflict (this particular one focused on Uganda), and how it was nearly impossible for them to receive any sort of sympathy, help, or treatment from their families, friends, authorities, medical facilities, or non-profit organizations. These victims were brutalized just as horrifically as women were, but all doors were closed to them. Being violated meant that they failed to maintain the strictly-defined gender expectations of Manhood and therefore were no longer Men. Wives would leave their husbands, hospitals would give them a mild painkiller, and organizations dedicated to rehabilitating female victims would be unwilling (unable?) to provide the same intensive physical, mental, and emotional support and resources necessary for recovery. The whole article was really, really difficult to read and there were parts I had to gloss over because it was too much for me to take in.
What a difficult, weird, illogical box we live in, with all of this gender crap. Sometimes I want to not give a fuck, and other times like today, there's nothing I can do but to give so many fucks, over and over and over again. From glitter crotches to horrifying acts of violation, humans are completely defined by the general term, "Gender", and it makes absolutely no fucking sense to me sometimes.