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20dollarlolita · 11 months

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Pink!! Thank you for all you do. I’m not in Lolita yet (lack of funds so severe even your guides cannot penetrate it), but I can’t wait to make use of your tutorials.

In the meantime, I have a question! I was given a sewing machine for Christmas in 2021, an Ever Sewn Sparrow 20. Unfortunately for my birthday in 2020, I was given Horrific Depression, and I still haven’t managed to find the receipt for it. My sewing machine has been in its box, never used, for a year and a half.

Recently I got some clothing from goodwill that I need to alter so that I can wear it, and I’d like to use my sewing machine. I know how to thread it and wind a bobbin and do all the normal setup things, but I wanted to ask: is there anything else I should check in addition to the normal setup things? Am I going to need to get it serviced before I can use it?

Thanks!

The most common problems that people have when they take a machine out of storage are problems based around the fact that the machine was in storage. Baby, they are born to run. You won't start a car up for the first time after leaving it alone for years, and expect it to be perfect. Your machine is the same.

So there's two main concerns: dust, and locking up. If the machine was somewhere that dust could get on it, make sure dust didn't get in it. Generally, most machines have holes near the bobbin winder where things could get messy. If there's a lot of dust in the machine, you might want to take the plastic cover off and see if you can clean it. Otherwise, vacuum is your friend. Take your vacuum's hose and vacuum the dust out as best you can. It won't get everything, but better is better than nothing.

Locking up can be a bigger problem. Even if your machine was greased and oiled before it sat, sitting doesn't things to the oil. If it's gotten hot and then cold and back again, the oil and grease could have melted into weird locations. Sometimes, you will try to turn the hand wheel, and it just won't go. First, stick a flashlight up to the thread uptake lever, and see if there's any thread in there. If it looks clean, then it's probably an oil bind. (if there is thread, you're going to have to take that out first. Info on that in a minute). Patience is your secret here. Even if it won't turn much, if you can get a little bit of movement, you can usually get a locked up machine un-stuck. Rock your hand wheel back and forth for a few minutes. Remember that your eventual goal is to turn it forward, but get whatever movement you can however you can. Once it's free, turn it by hand for several full cycles. I like to go with about 20, but it's really until it feels pretty free. Then, plug in your machine and run it for a few minutes. I put a piece of paper under the foot and "sew" along the paper until I've filled the whole paper up with holes.

If you've tried and you really just can't get it free, try putting it in a hot car for about five minutes and then coming back to it. Melty oil turns better than cold oil. Try to run it while it cools so that you don't have pooling oil in strange places.

If the machine is locked up, there's a good chance that the presser foot had gotten sluggish or locked as well. Movement is key here, as well. You might need to put the foot down and then physically pull the foot down, but just like breaking the machine free, you can break the presser foot free with repeat motion.

So that's the first things I check: dust, wheel turning, presser foot going up and down. If it looks clean from out of the box, good news!

I then generally do a fast oil. Most modern machines don't need the user to oil it, and you can get into trouble if you oil it where you shouldn't. We usually tell customers at my work to never oil their machines, and let the service tech do it. However, if you're not going to, here's some info on it. Most importantly, you only want to oil metal-on-metal joints. Oil plus plastic isn't long term good.

I'm using a Janome Derby here because it was the easiest machine for me to get that wasn't a Viking or a Pfaff. Those both use security screws and make getting into it a pain (and my Viking is still under warranty and don't want to void it). The parts are the same in most machines.

Take off your metal plate so that you have access to your feed teeth and your bobbin case.

Make sure there's nothing stuck in the bobbin case, like thread. Especially check your tension spring.

Under the bobbin case is a joint you want to oil. Many machines have a felt pad here to hold and dispense oil. If you have a felt pad, you want to put however many drops on it as you need to get it full of oil. If you do not have a felt pad, you will want to do one drop of oil, right in the center.

On this machine, because all of this is plastic, you don't want to use any oil. However, any competent machine will have metal down here.

Check the top of your bobbin case for needle strikes. If there's a really bad strike, you might need a new bobbin case. If you have any plastic burrs sticking out from a needle strike, you can usually carefully shave the sharp parts off with a sharp razor blade.

Check the plate for needle strikes around the needle hole. If there's any burrs, you can use a nail file or some high grit sandpaper to remove them.

BTW, your bobbin case has Batman ears on it. Batman's ears point up. If the bobbin case is in the machine properly, Batman's ears will be point upward and the case won't be able to rotate when you try to turn it counter-clockwise. There's a little finger on the 5 o'clock position of the bobbin case, and that usually rests against a stop or sensor to stop the case from turning.

If you have a Brother or a Baby Lock, your machine may have a metal throat plate, and then a little L-shaped plastic collar. If it does, put the metal plate on first, then the bobbin case, then the plastic part. This will help make sure the bobbin case is straight.

Most machines will let you take off the front cover here. This gives you access to two important places.

If your presser foot is sluggish, cleaning and oiling the presser foot bar will free it. I like acetone on a q-tip for this, just cleaning all the parts of the bar that I can reach. There will be two metal sleeves that the bar passes through. Put one drop of oil on the top of each with the foot up, and then put the foot up and down to get the oil in the sleeve. You'll want to oil this even if your foot isn't sluggish.

Your thread uptake is the part that goes up and down when you thread the machine. It's the thingy that's the reason why you need to put your needle up before you thread your machine.

Thread loves to get wrapped around this. Take some time to see if there is thread, and if there is to unwind it. You usually have to turn the wheel backwards to get the thread off.

You'll also want to oil the piece that connects to the uptake. It's a big part. If your machine has a little hole on the front of the crank that turns the uptake, you will want to fill that up with oil. If there's no hole, put a drop on the seam between the two pieces and hope that some of it gets down there.

And that's about all I do. Stick the front plate back on (if it's a Brother, make sure you're getting the needle threader lined up with the little lever on the face plate that moves the threader). You should be good to go.

Remember: only sewing machine oil should go in your sewing machine. No other oils, just good old sewing machine oil. NOT three in one oil, no matter what the can says. You also only want to put a single drop on any space, unless there's a felt pad or a hole to hold more than a drop.

And plenty of people will pull their machine from storage and use it with no problem. I'm just sharing this info in case you or someone else wants to do this. A lot of machines are considered disposable or not worth professionally servicing, and knowing how to do this can add some life to your machine. Just remember the number one rule, no oil on plastic parts.

#sewing machine help #long post

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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months

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RITUAL

Synopsis: a young orc is taken by his tribe to undergo a coming-of-age ceremony

CW: kidnapping, drugging, amateur tattoo w/ needle, manhandling, ritualistic behaviors, orc tribe in modern suburbia

A/N; not my usual stuff but had a pretty fun time writing this. Req by @butter-and-too-much-bread !!

The hazy green reflection of an adolescent orc bounced off speckled glass, bulging eyes downturned to look at his own hard flesh and broad, flared nose. He couldn't help but poke around in his mouth with a thick finger, massaging his gums where two large tusks should be by now. How ironic was it, that he was a late bloomer in receiving his tusks but more than double the size of his orcmates.

He pressed sensitively to the gummy flesh beneath a small, prodding canine, next to his bottom left incisor. The tooth was fat, a thick wall of calcium and enamel that has been growing for approximately six months. The other orcs who graduated training camp with him had tusks fully grown nine months ago...

The sharp white piece barely peaked above his bottom lip to uncomfortably press against the top one, making the orc give a grunt as he turned to pick up the unzipped duffel bag crumpled on his bed.

"Daggok!" His mothers voice called, "You're gonna be late!"

Daggok snarled at the nagging as he thundered down the stairs in his work boots, reaching the kitchen by the time she finished rushing him.

"Already gone." He called back, opening the crooked door of his childhood home.

The blistering sunlight fell upon his small eyes, bringing a hand up to shield them as he stumbled forward blindly. He remembered parking on the right of the driveway curb, envisioning the blue, beat up ol' pickup truck that's been his baby since his 12th birthday.

Squinting desperately, he flared his nostrils in aggravation when a peculiarity struck him. A very real peculiarity, that felt oddly similar to a brick. The object hit him so hard he lurched backward, tripping over his own feet. Before he could fall back, two powerful hands grabbed his oversized arms, pulling them behind his back as his feet were brought together by the rough tightness of a rope.

The buzz of cicadas basking in the summer heat droned in and out of Daggoks pointed ears, the grunting of several men much louder as they steadied him with what felt like countless hands. Warm, perspirating fingers tugged at his forearms and elbows, his right shoulder and just below his jugular, pushing him down ever so slightly. He would've screamed if not for the semi-sweet, bitterly acidic washcloth shoved in his mouth, making him drool as his tusks press awkwardly against it. A blindfold was pressed against his eyes and tightly tied against his head, roughly without an inch of nurturing care.

The tangy sticky sweet flavour of the rag was beginning to slide down daggoks throat now.

Voices hushed him as he let out aggressive wails, trying to toss and turn as he felt himself lunged up like a piece of furniture being carried. He felt himself jolt as the brutes holding him stepped each foot closer to a humming vehicle, old rock music playing faintly from a misty radio.

Daggok let out a howl at suddenly being dropped, the feeling of falling scaring him moreso than the pain of hitting the back of the trunk. He heard the slam of its door in front of him, his blinded eyes now even darker as all light removed from the trunk. The last sound he could make out from the muffled cage was the sudden blast of the radio as someone stepped on the gas pedal, lurching him forward with cigarette smoke seeping into his nostrils.

The sleepy blackness of the trunks safety latch mocked him, weak gruff hands unable to escape from their binds as his head lulled back and forth, exhaustion he'd normally feel after a day of slinging boards of wood and dry wall at his father's construction site. Daggoks soft eyes closed, a muffled snore leaving his gagged mouth.

The sudden jolt of the car going over a speed bump forced daggok awake, his head hitting the trunk floor with teary eyes. He still couldn't see, could only feel the rough road that whatever car he was in could barely survive from. Every roll forward was another bump bump bump on harsh gravel, making the orc's body vibrate uncomfortably as he laid on his hands.

His mind was a string of words, consciousness so dulled he couldn't think of what to do, of how he got here at first.

It wasn't until a harsh stop of someone stomping on the breaks, his body lurching back against the trunk side of the backseat, did he remember the hazy, breath-snatching kidnapping he had experienced earlier. How long ago was that? It felt like it was the next day already, how long had his body been stuffed and cramped into this tiny trunk? He tried to kick his tied feet, flailing them to feel for anything else in the trunk that could help him. Something metal clinked against the back of his work boot. The more he kicked it, the farther it pressed against the curves of the beat-up sedan.

A car door slammed shut, then another. Two more followed, nearly simultaneously with boots trudging against a mushy, unpaved road. Daggok could smell the petrichor within the trunk, could taste the earthy, fresh dirt in his gagged mouth. They were no longer in the rural, semi-suburban neighborhood he was raised in. From the lack of rushing cars nearby, the lack of fellow-Orc chatter, Daggok wondered if they were somewhere on the outskirts of his farming town, no powerplants loud enough to roar in his ears or highways nearby to drown out the sound of the birds chirping outside of the trunk.

Is this....what I think it is? Daggok wondered to himself. Could it really be? Is it finally his turn?

He hadn't been briefed on what would occur, on when it'd happen or who would take him. The orc had only heard stories from his older cousins, his friends that had finished their apprenticeships who had all disappeared without a trace at some point or another, which they recounted from.

"They tie and gag you, sometimes using this kind of medicine that knocks you unconscious; I didn't get that though, once my head hit that cold trunk I was out." One of his buddies recounted.

He was right, Daggok confirmed. These trunks really aren't uncomfortable. Couldn't they have picked a better way to transport their soon-to-be warriorkin? He knew it was a tribe tradition, but did they really have to do it so...coldly?

Some shuffling from outside the car commenced before the click of a latch rang, the trunk opening to release a wave of bright light. Even from beneath his blindfold daggok winced, the change from the thudding darkness now blinding him even greater than the fabric on his eyes.

The gruffs of two men became more labored as they hauled his big body out of the trunk, the brush against large tusks and warm palms grabbing his thighs made Daggok shiver. A short distance had been made with the sound of a busted creaky door opening, light shifting once more.

Before he knew it, he was thrown to the floor, a flurry of dust rising to clog his throat and pores. The cold of a knife pressed against his temple, fabric ripping against his ear as the blindfold once wrapped so tightly was pulled off like ribbon.

It took a harsh moment for Daggok's dark eyes to adjust, the green of them turning to a muddy brown in the dim light.

"Get up." A rough, tusked voice sounded, a heavy boot pressed against his side.

Daggok could see the male, recognizing him as one of the few orc men his peers revered. He was... tall. It was like a skyscraper staring down at him, broad shoulders and fat tusks glaring with sheer bruteness.

The tied orcling shook with his cheek smoothed against the wood-dusted floor, adrenaline coursing through his thoughts but his feet shaking as they struggled to lift his knees.

But all of a sudden, and without warning, his panicked instinct took over. He bolted to the padlocked door viewable between the shoulders of two orcs. Like a bear stomping through the woods, he lunged toward that swinging door of metal without a forethought.

The grunts of two orcs double his size grabbed the elbows of his arms tied and pressed to his tailbone, lifting him off his hopping feet and pressing against his hot skin. Fat fingers grabbed at his midwaist, soaking in sweat and the hard ripple of his stomach, not quite defined but as solid as an iron bull. He was a weapon to be trifled with, on his way to becoming just as tall and rugged as the forefathers in front of him.

"Lef me--go!" He grumbled through the sheer gag pushed to touch his tongue.

A warm hand was pressed against his teeth like a mouth guard, ring finger between his lips as he tasted salty skin and the threatening but, unphazed look of an orc that was restraining him. He almost whimpered, as shameful as he thought, from how prepotent the leader of the kidnappers was; his boot came to push Daggok's chest, forcing him against the chair with a foot-shaped bruise on his swampy skin. The males leadership was so clear it almost left a bad taste in Daggoks mouth, a distinguished look of scar and missing flesh decorating the older orc as the rest of his brethren watched from the dark, golden eyes shining as they brerudgingly stayed quiet.

"Trying to leave... don't you know what'll become of you if you don't stay?"

Well, his buddy sure didn't tell him that part. He never knew anyone who successfully got away; that just, never seemed like an option. But Daggok knew the warrior wasn't looking for an answer. Still, he muffled through the heated hand gag.

"Coufn't hep it.." He shrugged, relaxing now that he could recognize a few faces from his fellow tribe that he remembered; men he had looked up to since prepubescence.

The orcling didn't really *want* to leave, not if it meant not getting his status like the rest of his peers. But what orc child could help that back-of-the-mind desire to escape his elders who clearly weren't here to play nice?

A silence only broken by the heavy exhales of orcmen and their cigarettes dying left the room quiet for a moment. Waiting. They waited to see what Daggok would do. But he stayed still, as if he had an option between the two breathing down his neck and forcing his hands behind his back.

"You're to stay here for seven days, seven nights.. your brothers are being held elsewhere, and you will not see them. Not until your Garrosh."

Garrosh. The final ceremony. The worst part, and the most gratifying. Daggok could imagine the pain of his lashings after being paraded around town, the suffering and the sensation of freedom as the last one hits him.

The musty air of the basement came back to his plump lips, the hand suffocating them now gone only ro be replaced with a slapping push to his cheek.

"are you listening? Kid, you won't be told this again. Wanna look like an idiot at your ceremony? "

Steel fingers that smelled like pine grabbed his chin, crinkled black eyes only millimeters away from him as they stood watching Daggok shrink away. The fingers pulsated forward, forcing his head to nod no with a tight grip on his jaw.

"That's what I thought."

The leader of the group, probably an industrialist by day, turned around with sweltering muscles lining his spine and girthy neck.

The leader threw an ancient-looking patched robe at Daggok, little rock-like beads lining its V-neckline. The orcling could imagine, it was just like the one each orc who had faced this ritual had worn, when they were carried out on a spit as a gagged masterpiece, or held by a dozen men with unwavering and bulging arms who had taught them their future.

"Put this on. And get up." ------

The next week was a level of hell that Daggok couldn't have possibly imagined in the months that he waited for this kidnapping. His kidnappers, the men who had raised him, lined his back with a hot, searing needle to create the crest of his tribe, one that had existed on every orc who had reached maturity in his town. He witnessed the dark scars that were leftover of orc men in their mid-age, decades having passed since they received their honorary marks and yet still as prevelant and encapsulating as ever. A majority of the week was spent resting, calloused hands occasionally rubbing in a vaseline-like substance to promote healing.

When he wasn't resting, he was put through meaningless trials to prove his worth, himself versus nine others just to withstand an uneven beating, his bare chest pressed against the biceps of an orc much too strong in the pouring rain to increase his strength.

But that seventh night finally came, and with it the eighth day of his ceremony. It was far too early when he was picked up by the scarred and burnt warrior he had come to know far more familiarly within this past week. His arms pulled and pushed each way, a million hands holding up his legs and the wide expanse of his back, fingers clenching his nape as he was hoisted above. The sun barely peaked above the horizon as a crowded footsteps could be heard, silence following him until he and the orcmen had reached a threshold, where the silence was replaced by screams of excitement and congratulation. Like he was told, Daggok remained silent, feeling his hips clenched by his leaders hands, his ankles held securely as he could hear, but not see the sounds of the townspeople of his tribe. The motor of pickup trucks revving from behind and bright yellow torches swaying in his face was a sight he could hardly behold. He was sure his mother was in the crowd of people behind or fronting him, for she would not miss the moment every orcling dreams of when they reach their age of Picking. Their Garrosh. Their warrior ceremony.

Hazy pink sky made his eyes adjust softly to the outside world, which he had not seen during the day for a week. Was it over? His kidnapping, his trial? His markings, still dulled by a pain, were cherishingly held by his fellow tribesmen, those he now held an equal ranking to.

This was it, and finally: he felt an aching pain in his gums, where his tusks had previously only barely peaked from.

#kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #Fiction #Og fiction #Orc #Orc oc #i love orcs #Orc fiction #Fantasy #Fantasy writing #fiction writing #monster fiction #modern fantasy #orcs #tw kidnapping #tw kidnap mention

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autumnmobile12 · 8 months

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In this scene when Hector is threatening Lenore, he says the following, "...or I will rip your fucking throat out and break your fucking neck and we'll see how fucking well you live then."

All right, let's pretend for a moment Lenore was in any kind of danger and this was a legitimate threat: Is Hector just bluffing (as if Lenore's not going to know her own weaknesses) or would breaking her neck actually result in some permanent damage if he succeeded?

In other words, can the Netflix's Castlevania vampires be crippled?

Modern vampire media plays fast and loose with Bram Stoker's rules, (I mean, the more powerful Hellsing vampires can even walk around in sunlight; it just annoys them,) but in every other vampire-themed series I can think of right now, short of the classic stake through the heart or the head being removed, vampires tend to come back from just about anything. Regrowing limbs, regenerating catastrophic blood less, etc. The series Shiki actually has a pretty disturbing rundown of what vampires can and can't survive, courtesy of a doctor capturing one and putting her through a series of inhumane experiments to see what will actually kill her. (This one also has a pretty similar explanation to Castlevania as to why vampires fear holy relics, and it's the only modern vampire series I've seen that actually has the 'sacred ground is off limits' factor.)

When the chips are down, Hector's probably just overreaching here. (Or possibly trying to intimidate Lenore on the mistaken assumption she's a 'helpless lady.')

But I do think it's an interesting notion to have vampirism not being the 'cure all, return to factory setting in case of emergency' trope we see everywhere because the 'factory setting' is different for everyone. Such as vampires experiencing permanent injuries or even terminal illnesses. The light of the moon is just reflected sunlight, so a vampire with a skin condition that makes them extra sensitive to even moonlight could be possible. Also, vampires developing illnesses like blood disorders, rabies, even the ones who have animal forms contracting mange, certain cancers, neurological or physiological conditions they were born with that a vampire's bite didn't 'cure.'

Or maybe they have a whole other range of afflictions specific only to their species.

Example: Aside from Carmilla and Godbrand, none of Dracula's Generals speak, not even Cho even though she has a flashback in Season 3. In a Hellsing/Castlevania crossover I was working on, I wrote a part where the Generals had an ongoing bet of whether or not Cho was too arrogant to bother speaking with the plebs or if she actually couldn't speak, implying she has a speech disorder that predated her being a vampire.

...

I've read books where humans with asthma, severe scoliosis, and even Alzheimer's Disease were cured after becoming a vampire, and I do think that's wonderful.

But there's also the part of me that thinks, "Nah, too easy." I want to see vampires who are blind or deaf or both, autistic vampires, 10th century Chinese vampire ladies who still have maimed feet from the foot-binding of their childhoods, vampires who suffer from dementia and are terrified of losing hundreds of years worth of memories, dyslexic vampires, paraplegic vampires, vampires with autoimmune disease, or allergies outside of being unable to enjoy the gift to humanity that is garlic bread.

#castlevania #hector #lenore #castlevania vampires #castlevania headcanons #can vampires be crippled?#hellsing #shiki #castlevania netflix #vampires #seriously #of all the things #why garlic bread?

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arbiterlexultionis · 7 months

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Poltergeist pt. 2

Lol I didn’t even notice all the spelling mistakes in the tags of my own post until just now so I’ll be addressing all that first.

At first glance Frostbite’s the muscle of the organization, because you know the whole 9 foot tall yeti with arguably the single most metal and least metallic prosthetic arm in the world, but then he throws on a Lab Coat and starts cooking up a storm. New flavors, figuring out how to more efficiently bind and mix the ectoplasm with the energy drink, experimenting with different ratios of plasm to product, the whole nine yards. Maybe even figuring out how to incorporate the absolute masterpiece that is Jack’s attempt at making anti-ghost juice and resulted in pro-ghost juice, otherwise known as ecto-dejecto. That experimentation would have two results. The first one is just a premium version of the normal Poltergeist drink that has a bit more of a kick to it, like an energy drink X 2, but it’s ectodejecto so it’s kinda healthy for ghost. The other is essentially supernatural five hour energy/potion of mana restoration and or healing. They pop em like senzu beans.

Walker. He’s is absolutely having a blast about all this. His whole shtick is being an old timey cop. He’s practically straight out a old noir film, black and white coloration and all. And while sure, he has a whole bunch of prisoners to look after, he’s self aware enough to know that a lot of them are in on trumped up charges that arn’t fair. It’s nice and all, but it’s just not the same as proper criminals, investigations and getting to go full detective. So now that he’s got proper criminals to chase? Mysteries to solve? Old timey prohibition era shenaniganery to enjoy? He’s all in. Enjoying his job more then ever. Straight up vibing. No one’s seen him smile this much in decades. Not sense that one human criminal famous for killing cops kicked the bucket, became a ghost and pissed off enough people for someone to ask Walker to track him down. He’s straight up Giggling during his first high speed chase with Danny. Danny and his boys are in on it too. When I say high speed chase I mean an actual car chase, not just flying. He wasn’t planning to get caught in the act by Walker, but when he was he pointed at the vintage police car tricked out with ghost tech while climbing into his similarly tricked out pickup, tossed Walker the keys and was like “that one’s yours! We’ve got some killer jumps set up down the road so maybe try and drag it out a little? We’ll send you the footage afterward, even if you catch me.” Asides from cameras to capture footage of the jumps there were also speakers playing chase music. That type of style was a bit more modern then Walker was used to, but it was nice. More than nice. Similar speakers were set up in his prison shortly after the chase to play fight music whenever a prison riot or fight in the yard starts. He’s still legitimately trying to arrest Danny, and Danny’s bound and determined to get away, but they are having way to much fun with the whole ordeal.

So that’s what I have for now, enjoy your days, drink your water and comment any cool ideas you come up with pretty please with a cherry on top?

#danny fenton #danny phantom #fic prompt #dp au #story prompt #writing prompt #danny phantom au #dp #Danny’s a menace #Walker loves it #he is straight up haveing a good time #so is Danny #Frostbite is the smartest jock in the realms #also the scariest

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ancientorigins · 20 days

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Some people go to extreme lengths to look good. These seven ancient beauty treatments show that our ancestors were just as vain as us.

#Beauty #Makeup #Fashion #Hygiene #Cosmetics

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haggishlyhagging · 3 months

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Feminists who identity their deep centering Selves with the term witch are not being merely metaphorical, or cute, or popularizing, or "trivializing." I suggest, rather, that the reverse is true: that to limit the term to apply only to those who have esoteric knowledge of and participate formally in "the Craft" is the real reductionism. This is the case particularly since the cult, as Murray demonstrated (perhaps inadvertently), has been strongly invaded by patriarchal influences.

Together with Robin Morgan, who has done so much both to elicit in women the wide and deep intuition of the meaning of Witch and to resist simple vulgarization, I hope that more feminists will give to the study of witches “the serious study that it warrants, recognizing it as a part of our entombed history, a remnant of the Old Religion which pre-dated all patriarchal faiths and which was a Goddess-worshipping, matriarchal faith . . . [reading] the anthropological, religious, and mythographic studies on the subject.” Hopefully, in doing so we will not sacrifice the original vigor and integrity that inspired the "New York Covens" in the late sixties to proclaim:

“You are a Witch by saying aloud, "I am a Witch" three times, and thinking about that. You are a Witch by being female, untamed, angry, joyous, and immortal.”

Many women have understood this identity of the Witch within, the Self who is the target of the fathers' attacks and the center of original movement. Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English did much to spread knowledge among women of the role of the witches as midwives and healers, showing that their suppression coincided with the creation of a new male medical profession. In the early seventies, Andrea Dworkin named the witchcraze for what it is: gynocide. She showed its interconnectedness with other horrors such as foot-binding, fairy tales, rape, and pornography. Others have searched out pieces of the mosaic which are not easy to find.

Such works should be valued for igniting the Spark which inflames the desire to search further. There is much to be done. Working with increased confidence and precision, Hags must continue in the spiritual tradition of such visionaries as Matilda Joslyn Gage, continuing to uncover our past and paths to our future. This will be possible to the degree that we continue with courage in the Journey of our own time/space. Seeing through the fraudulent re-presentations of the witchcraze will help us recognize the tactics of today's Male Midwives, the professional Wizards who have unsuccessfully "succeeded" the Wise Women—the Unhealers of Modern Medicine.

-Mary Daly, Gyn/Ecology

#mary daly #witches #feminist witchcraft #patriarchal reversal

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no-hands · 2 years

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#tiny feet #modern foot binding #three inch jinlian #chinese foot binding #chinese footbinding #foot binding #footbinding

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misskittyhart · 2 months

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Material Girls

Content warning: language, suggestive language (I mean it’s Angel guys ) stalking

Angel had his head in his hands sitting at the bar nursing a cocktail. He looked out of it completely. Kitty knew that look well. The distant look of disassociation, trying to lose your self at the end of a bottle. Angel and her saw eye to eye on many things, and often confided in each other. When kitty was alive in New Orleans she was in a horribly abusive arranged marriage. She was no stranger to toxic love and binding contacts when it came to Angel. That is probably why they clicked so well. They could sense the sadness and pain buried behind the mask.

“Oh honey.” Kitty said in her soft and caring tone. She put her hand gently over his bringing him out of his glazed daze.

“Oh….ah…hey Kit cat.” He said quietly.

“….he hit you again” kitty said in a tone laced with malice as she saw the bruise on Angel’s cheek. If Valentino wasn’t an over lord he’d be six feet under by now. But Alastor always told her in due time darling.

Angel tried to play it off like always “well you know spice things up in the bedroom!” He laughed finishing his drink “I’m fine are you kiddin me? Doesn’t even hurt”

Kitty felt a pang of sadness deep in her. She could see the mask coming up. She sighed not wanting to pry further. She squeezed his hand “say.” She started he looked at her curious, “why don’t we go shopping? Some retail therapy is a great way to get out of the dumps”

Angel’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Oh yeah? You got it sugar tits! That sounds like a blast!”

Kitty laughed, she rather liked his crass and sassy nature. It was also nice to have a man not trying to touch or flirt with her. Angel just felt like a younger brother, which made her fiercely protective. Kitty held up a gold credit card between her fingers. “I’ve got the all access tour to a ton of money~ so we can go wild.”

Angel grinned looking at the credit card, he could clearly see Alastor’s name across it as the owner of this. He raised and eyebrow. “That’s sure sweet of the strawberry pimp. Look I don’t understand your relationship with ol creepy smiles, or how you can even want to tap that….but I guess everyone has their kink~”

Kitty smacked his hand playfully, “oh hush you.” Her cheeks were tinged lightly pink at his teasing. Though the thought of being intimate with Alastor made her heart pound in her ears. She shook her head her fluffy fox ears pinned back against her head.

Angel cackled and looked down at her. “Let me go get into something more fun. Then we will burn his money up baby!”

Kitty sat down at the bar as she waited for Angel. The bracelet on her arm with the radio tube eye emitted a low hiss and crackle sound. Her ears caught the sound flicking as she gazed down at it. Of corse he would be spying on them. “You are suppose to be working you know. Not listening in.” She said placing her finger on the eye, “you couldn’t take me for a wardrobe update because you said you were soooo busy with your territory”

Hissssssssss, pfffffbttttt, pop.

That was her reply with the faintest sound of Kitty~ in the static.

Alastor would get so possessive and jealous when she spent her time with other residents. He was egotistical like that. He wanted all of her attention all of the time. Even if she had to sit in his office in silence for hours while he worked. He just wanted to feel her close and giving him her time. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all jealous.” She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “You made the choice…” she trailed off before hearing Angel’s foot steps

“Girl let’s go!” He said striking a pose. He had changed into a fluffy fur collar jacket, and a pair of hot pink sunglasses.

Kitty looked at him with a bright grin her canines flashing in the light “as the kids say these days ‘girl slay’” she was getting used to modern slang and modern technology. After all the 1920s had all of its own slang and she still used it but mostly with Alastor. Angel laughed doing a little runway walk to her.

She grabbed her purse and pulled out her own sunglasses her looked classic and vintage. She put them on. Angel took her arm in a friendly matter “let’s go bad bitch!” He laughed.

They headed out into the street from the hotel lobby. Kitty quite liked shopping with Angel, he had excellent taste in clothing and often loved dressing her up like she was a little doll. She was hoping to get a few more modern pieces of clothing with some more sex appeal. Not that she minded wearing all of her vintage clothes, she always looked so darling. However…she wanted to change things up.

“I’ve got an idea Ang.” She said looking up at him.

He beamed down at her “you thinkin what I’m thinkin?”

She nodded firmly “Hell bucks!”

“Yes girl I could go for a bucket of iced coffee right now.” He smiled

“Long night again?” She pryed.

Angel’s smile fell slightly “I mean yeah you could say. Val had me filming almost to sunrise…”

Kitty purses her lips. Oh if that mother fucker wasn’t more powerful then a her, she’d throw him into a bug zapper. He was gross with her too. He pressed her to make a contract with him so he could make her a star, in front of Alastor, during a overlords meeting. He followed it saying he could find a good use for her pouty lips. The amount of static and malicious that had drilled off Alastor but he had to play nice. She could feel his claws on her shoulders digging in as he glared at Valentino before saying she was already a star. So yeah….fuck valentino.

Angel noticed an aura of rage around her. He laughed softly “hey it’s okay…it’s part of the job”

This snapped kitty from her thoughts “well fuck him, but let’s not let him spoil our day.” Her ear flicked hearing a soft hissing static from her bracelet. Her eyes cast down at it in slight annoyance. He really had nothing better to do did he?

They made it down to the coffee shop and headed inside. The delicious smell of fresh brewed coffee was a welcome beacon. Heading to the counter they eagerly ordered iced coffees in the largest size possible and waited. It was nice having access to as much money as she desired to spend. Alastor didn’t much use his wealth, and enjoyed showering her with it. The amount of dresses and trinkets she had in her room was almost getting to hoarding levels. He very much loved for his possessions to look pretty. Frequently dripping her neck and arms with jewels. It was overwhelming at times.

They got their coffees and headed out. Angel sighed happily drinking it. “This is what I’m talking about! Ya know sometimes coffee hits harder than blow!” He laughed

Kitty grinned up at him. She wasn’t one for drug use finding her vice only at the bottom of a bottle of rye. “It’s quite the treat isn’t it?” She sipped on it as they walked into one of the large shopping districts. She always let Angel lead on these outings, he seemed to know where to shop.

“So whatcha lookin for Kit cat?” He asked looking down at her, “you want me to help pick out some sexy lingerie to make ol creepy smiles jaw drop?” He grinned mischievously messing with her.

Kitty’s face flustered at the idea, putting quite the image in her mind about what would happen if she walked into his office in something Angel had picked out.

Psssssst!!!! Crack! Pop! Hizzzzzmmnnnnn

the radio static again, why did it seem flustered.

Choke on that you bastard. She thought.

Angel could barely hear the static, her ears more sensitive to its sounds. She wasn’t sure if it was her contract with Alastor that made that so.

He looked at her bracelet “not to be a cunt. But it’s really creepy he gave you that magic transponder that he can tune into when ever and listen in on you”

Kitty shrugged lightly “well when you sign your soul away you kind of loose the right to all privacy.”

Angel nodded lightly “fuck…don’t remind me.”

Kitty shook her head, honestly it didn’t bother her. It made her feel safe knowing he knew where she was and what she was doing. It’s come in handy when she got into danger a few times. It’s like he could immediately step out of the shadows and challenge whatever creature dare touch his property

Angel shook his head. She sure was strange. He had no idea why she liked Alastor more than just, her boss. But he had no right to shame her.

“Oh yeah! We gotta go in here!” Angel said suddenly stopping at a store that had hot pink neon lights pouring from its windows. Kitty cocked her head looking at the clothing on display. It was modern and….revealing. Her face flushed lightly. She wasn’t much into wearing dresses and skirts that went above the knee. But Angel had been desperately trying to get her into a mini skirt for what seemed like eons. She sighed.

“I suppose I can try to see what they have to offer” she said looking at the overly sexual clothing. Angel grabbed her hand and jaunted into the shop with her.

Kitty looked around at the clothes in here. Most of it barely left anything to the imagination. Angel wasted no time diving into a rack of clothes and started grabbing things to try on. Including a handful of items he thought she’d look great in.

Kitty looked out of place and embarrassed as he handed her some clothing with what she thought had very little material to them. He patted her on the shoulder and pushed her to the dressing room a mischievous grin on his face. He was fucking with her. Her ears pinned back as she shot him a look. She was shoved into the dressing room and he shut the door behind her leaning against it so she couldn’t come back out.

“You’re impossible Ang!” She scowled. She picked up one of the dark green dresses which had a deep V cut that almost went to her belly button. The bottom of the dress came up mid thigh and it felt like wearing a vise it was so tight.

“I want to see~” Angel said in a sing song tone. Kitty felt almost naked wearing this. She steeled her nerves and walked out. Angel’s eyes lit up seeing her in it “holy fuck girl!” He clapped his hands together “that will surely fluster ol smiles~” kitty kept pulling at the hem of the dress trying to hold it down. Angel laughed at her modest nature. “Honey it’s not the 1920s any more. Live it up be a bad bitch!” He teased

Kitty sighed. It was pointless to argue with Angel. Her mind began to wander thinking what Alastor would think of this outfit.

She could sense him. Her eyes flicked around looking for him. He was near by. She could feel it in her bones. The radio static was getting out of control. Faintly she could see his shadow in the corner of the room. It’s head in her direction. The radio static got louder and her ears pinned back. Hm? What a weird reaction. Kitty smirked “I think I’ll get this and a few more things” she felt emboldened by Alastor’s reaction.

He always teased her and touched her flirting with her because he loved seeing her break down for him. It was a power high to be able to control her in that way. He always had that wide sharp grin as he stared down at her squirming in his grasp. Time for payback.

They shopped for hours at different stores. She could see the shadow becoming more clear as the day went on. To the point she could see red eyes staring her down and a wide toothy grin meeting her gaze. Angel hadn’t noticed it at all. Which made it almost like a secret.

Oh she had his attention alright, Angel was right about that. “man!” Angel said suddenly breaking her thought, “I needed that! Thanks again kit cat!” He grinned at her

They were heading back into the hotel with arms full of bags. Angel had found a bunch of new outfits and seemed giddy. Kitty hadn’t gone too wild, as she felt the clothes she had picked were bold enough. Angel begged her to get some lingerie; she caved this time.

They came back into the Hotel and her face went scarlet seeing Alastor on the couch reading a book. The old gramophone was playing some jazz in the background and he was nursing a whiskey. He didn’t look up at her but spoke suddenly “have fun spending my money~?” He said in his usual teasing tone.

“Don’t give me a credit card with out a limit if you don’t want me too~” she said back setting her bags down. His eyes drifted toward the bags. He didn’t get to see everything she had bought but he had seen enough. He was curious what other treats might be in those bags and felt his mind wander.

“Hmmm” was all he said in his little annoyed tone.

Kitty handed him a small bag, “here….I got you this as a thank you.”

She caught him off guard his eyes widened slightly at the idea. However his classic grin didn’t falter to betray his emotions. He simply set his book down and took the bag from her curious. He opened it up and saw a black box inside. Kitty’s tail wagged slowly as she waited for him to open the box.

He couldn’t recall the last time he was given a gift, and it was only ever from Rosie when he did receive one. He was curious. He must have missed this little part of their excursion. He opened the box his eyes falling onto a beautiful gold pocket watch. It was antique. It had a stunning decorative link chain with a red ruby bail charm handing from it. He was silent. He’d never received such a personal and fine gift.

He ran his thumb over the crystal thinking quietly. He stood suddenly grabbing her bags. His eyes looked down at her as he towered over her. Kitty cocked her head not sure what he was thinking. “Office.” He said walking out of the lobby carrying her packages. She turned to look at Angel who gave her two thumbs up.

She followed Alastor in silence as they moved through the hotel to his radio tower. He opened the door for her letting her move past him into his main office. He closed the door behind him. He set the bags on the couch and looked over her looking down at her.

“Alastor?” She asked confused.

His clawed finger reached forwards playing with a curl around her face. His eyes burning into hers. She felt her heart racing. Did he not like it? Was he upset with her? He would do this she swore just to make her on edge, another way he could control her.

“Hmmm.” He said in a hum. “Thank you.” He said simply. His claw moved tracing her jaw slowly. She felt her hairs stand on end and her heart pound in her chest.

“Y…you’re welcome” she said looking up at him. He ran his finger under her chin and leaned down over her his face close to her ear.

“You looked stunning by the way, darling~” he purred into her ear.

Kitty went stiff her face flushing a dark shade of red. He grinned wickedly looking down at her. “I want to see them all on. Give me a little show” he teased.

He was serious wasn’t he? He nodded as if confirming those thoughts, he moved to sit at his desk. “Well?” He said lacing his fingers together. “Sometime this century, kitty~”

Fuck.

“Yes sir.” She said moving to her bags.

“And that little lacy thing you decided to let Angel talk you into. Now.” He said his eyes burning into her. “I’d like to see you in that now~”

Her face went scarlet and she felt she would pass out. God damn it Angel.

~til next time

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #Spotify

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theromanswerequeerwillelaborate · 4 months

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Blue Eye Samurai and Gender

I posted this to my Reddit, but wanted to put it out here too. Honestly, would make a video essay about it if I had time.

TLDR: this show does really interesting things with gender from both a modern and historical perspective.

Disclaimer 1: I am a queer person who enjoys applying a queer lens to media. I think it reveals interesting aspects of a text that are fun to engage with. If you do not like that sort of thing either for being averse to LGTBQ+ topics or just do not like analyzing media because you prefer to just enjoy a show for its "hell ya" moments, that is not a problem. I would obviously disagree with you, but there is no "right way" to engage with media and we can be respectful of each other's preferences.

Disclaimer 2: This show is set in Edo era Japan, or at least a stylized interpretation of it. Applying modern concepts of gender or modern standards and categories relating to gender must be done carefully and with caveats. As an example, the British Museum recently recategorized the emperor Elagabalus as a woman due to how that individual seems to have identified themselves. While it is cool to see recognition of queer people in history, I do not think that it is historical to say that Elagabalus was a trans woman because the category of "trans" did not exist for Romans as it does for us today. There has to be an appreciation for the historical context in which a person existed, and applying our modern lens to things is ultimately a distortion that needs to be accounted for.

Right, that being said, this show does some cool things with gender.

Off the bat, Mizu is depicted as embodying the social role of a man for the majority of the show. She dresses as a man and performs as a man in most social situations. This is necessitated for her by a number of factors. First, there is the in narrative need for her to maintain anonymity. If her pursuers and advisories see her as a man, she is able to better avoid them. Second, being perceived as male removes the bias that adversaries would have against her in battle. If they knew she was a woman, they would be less likely to be intimidated in a fight. Third, there were social barriers in the Edo period for women that Mizu needs to avoid to accomplish her mission. The most obvious example is working with Sword Father. Mizu binds her chest to seem more male while working with him. When Mizu leaves sword father, he refuses to allow her to reveal that she is a woman as this would be a socially-enforced taint on his work. In this context, it is better for Mizu to be genderless or to embody the gender of a man.

We can see this addressed further when Ringo reveals that he knows Mizu is a woman and she threatens him to not tell others. It is clear that Mizu sees the need to continue to be seen as a man to operate within her cultural context in the way that she wants to. When Mizu spars with Mikio, demonstrating her skills in a fundamentally masculine art, he calls her an "abomination." This mirrors the use of this term as it is repeatedly applied to her being of mixed ancestry. Mizu violates social norms by her mere existence and further violates them by being skilled in combat. While she can do nothing escape being of partially white ancestry, she can adopt the persona of a man to mitigate the degree to which she is perceived as an abomination, and so she does. Finally, in the climatic clash with Fowler, he discovers Mizu to be a woman, and perceives this as giving him power over her that he did not hold when they were on the equal footing of combat. The introduction of her being a woman to the scenario changes things and unbalances their dynamic.

Indeed, in most circumstances, a gender imbalance grants Fowler and other men power over women. This is seen most especially in the courtesans and other sex workers. As women and as sex workers, they are tools or things for the men to use as they see fit, to gain sexual gratification. The social norms of Edo japan dictates that women are subservient to men, and this expectation is often shown throughout the series. For this reason, Mizu sees the need to escape her woman-hood and adopt the guise of man. She transcends what should have been her social station through gender performance. We might draw a parallel to how she conceals her eyes with glasses. Just as the glasses cover an aspect of her that ought to ostracize her from society, so too does the guise of man cover her being a woman and allow her to step outside of societal limitations.

However, we can see Akemi's journey as a foil to that of Mizu's. Akemi begins her story very much trapped by the gendered expectation of her society. Her father plans to marry her off as he sees fit, and she is unable to exercise agency over her life except through placating him in a manner that conforms to gender expectations. She must play the role of a subservient daughter to get what she wants and marry Taigen. But this modicum of control is proven false when her father changes his mind and decides Taigen is unworthy and she is to marry the Shogun's son. The gendered role of subservience is seemingly proven too much for Akemi to overcome. She is trapped by it.

But then we see Akemi attempt to defy her father and strike out on her own. In that act, she finds the best way for her to actualize her desires is to again conform to a gender role, that of a courtesan. In that role, and using her sexual appeal as a tool, she is able to convince the flesh-seller to take her where she wants to go. This pathway of sexuality as a tool for agency is then reinforced Madam Kaji's business where we see sexuality as an area in which women can demonstrate power over men. It is arguable that the power they exercise here is not actual, as it is still within the framework of men receiving what they desire from the appearance of subservience to women, but the men still hold all the power in the exchange. They are the one's paying for it. It is a service and as such is something they engage with willingly and in the "real world" of day to day life women are still ultimately subservient to men. The momentary reversal of power dynamics in a way reinforces the status quo because the men chose when that role reversal happens and when it ends. (I would draw a parallel to Saturnalia ultimately acting as a reinforcement of slave/free power dynamics in ancient Rome.)

Nevertheless, Akemi has found one area in which she can exercise power. It is still within a system of patriarchy, but while she cannot escape that system she can find expressions of agency within it through her sexuality. We see this when she marries the Shogun's son and earns his trust and affection through her sexuality. The act of her doing so is framed as her backing off of an aggressive action and assuming the role of a subservient wife. Her tone of voice and word choice makes this clear. She embodies the role of the placating woman so as to better position herself to later exercise power. This is perhaps why she does not want to run away with Taigen at the end of the season. Akemi has found that she can be powerful by embodying her social role rather than by running from it. This is a clear contrast to Mizu who found power and agency by refusing the societal role of her gender.

To be clear, I am not about to argue that Mizu is trans. As I said above, that would not be historically accurate to label an Edo era person by modern categories. Moreover, while Mizu is clearly fine being seen as a man when it suits her, she never directly identifies as such. Indeed, in an exchange with Mikio, Mizu expresses that she has felt forced to embody manhood out of necessity and her mother's demands for secrecy. I am unsure if the creators of the show have commented on this, but I would argue that Mizu is cis-gendered who willingly violates gender roles of her society without that violation being part of her identity.

Finally, there are a number of points that we could find further aspects of gender being explored. Seki comments how he tried to be a good "mother" for Akemi, despite being a man. Taigen shows clear sexual attraction to Mizu despite it being ambiguous as whether he knows her to be a woman. Sexuality in general is an interesting topic for this show, as it is most often framed in terms of gendered power dynamics (as discussed above), and homosexuality only appears in contexts meant to denote sexual perversion. That and an inferred chemistry between Mizu and Akemi, but that is head-cannon territory.

I hope this is a good avenue for further discussion on this topic, and I hope we can engage in it respectfully and productively. Please, tell me your thoughts on what I have laid out and if there is anything I missed.

#blue eye samurai #media analysis #gender stuff

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repriseofthereprise · 4 months

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Sheila Jeffreys speaks on beauty practices and misogyny

This speech was given by Sheila Jeffreys at the Andrea Dworkin Commemorative Conference, April 7, 2006. This original transcript was prepared by another radical feminist (blog now defunct).

Hello everybody, it’s terrific to be here, and to be invited to be here, for this Commemoration of Andrea Dworkin, because of course her politics and her writings have been enormously influential in my life. And in fact, in Melbourne, we did have a little commemoration in a seminar series that I run, last year, and thirty-five women came together to read from various different books of hers saying how much they meant to them, and we got a great deal of what we have been hearing about here from Clare, which is women talking about how their lives were broken, and how reading the work of Andrea Dworkin healed them because of abuse and so on. So we got a great deal of that at that evening seminar.

Now obviously a lot of my work has been about pornography and is now about prostitution, fighting prostitution as a form of violence against women, and so Andrea’s work on pornography has been enormously important to me and in fact, in London in the late 1970’s, in 1977, I was involved in setting up the first anti-pornography group in Britain, which was the Revolutionary Feminist Anti-Pornography Consciousness Raising Group, the London Revolutionary Feminist Anti-Pornography Consciousness Raising Group. Yes, it doesn’t roll off the tongue! But by the time I was involved in setting up a central London Women Against Violence Against Women in 1980 I had found Andrea Dworkin’s book on pornography and that was enormously important to me.

However, I thought today, lots of people will be covering Andrea’s work on pornography, and therefore I’m going to do something a bit different, I’m going to look at two of her earlier works, her first published work which is Woman Hating from 1974, which she was involved in writing for a couple of years before that. So this is a truly early work, she was 27 when it was published, so it’s really, it’s a quite extraordinary work, if you think about being able to produce a book of that kind at that age. So I want to look at that and talk about how inspiring that was for me in the writing of my book last year, Beauty and Misogyny, that text was really important for me.

And I also want to say a little bit about Right Wing Women, which is another very important book, from I think 1977.

Now, when I became a feminist, in the early 1970s, I wasn’t aware of Woman Hating. The book was about to be published but I didn’t find it at that time. But in the UK the whirlpool of ideas that Andrea Dworkin encapsulates in Woman Hating was the powerful basis of the feminism that I was developing. It wasn’t until later that I discovered these books, with gratitude, and was able to use them. Now, what’s so radical about Woman Hating, is that the book directly opposes the sadomasochistic romance that creates femininity and masculinity and provides the basis of male domination. Now, when I talk about femininity and masculinity, unlike the sort of modern postmodern trendy craze of saying that you can choose and swap genders and so on, I understand femininity and masculinity as the behaviours of male dominance, masculinity, and female subordination, which is femininity. They are actually about behaviours in a hierarchy of power, so I just want to say that quite straightforwardly. I don’t think gender encompasses that term and I’ll have a go at the whole idea of gender later on.

Now, in Woman Hating Andrea Dworkin speaks of foot binding at some length, there is a very useful piece on foot binding in there, but I think what she says about foot binding works just as well for high heeled shoes, particularly the high heeled shoes of the moment. And she writes that through the crippling of a woman, a man, quote:

glories in her agony, he adores her deformity, he annihilates her freedom, he will have her as sex object even if he must destroy the bones in her feet to do it. Brutality, sadism and oppression emerge as the substantive core of the romantic ethos. That ethos is the warp and woof of culture as we know it.

Now I think that is the fundamental message of Woman Hating, and I think it’s wonderful stuff, you can see the power of Andrea’s language in there.

Now, she analyses in Woman Hating the idea of beauty as just one aspect of the way women are hated in male supremacist culture, and she indicts woman-hating culture for the deaths, violations and violence done to women, and says that feminists look for alternatives–ways of destroying culture as we know it, rebuilding it as we can imagine it. I think the word destroying is strong, it’s good, and it’s crucial. We’re not talking about tinkering at the edges of culture, and what I’m going to ask you to think about today is how we destroy what is called, sometimes, gender, maybe sex roles is better. I’ll suggest to you sex roles might be better, and certainly destroy masculinity and femininity, not tinkering at the edges but we have to destroy them. And that’s what Andrea’s book asked us to do. Hardly anybody speaks in that kind of language now. Today such talk of destroying culture is much rarer than it was then, because we’re in a very conservative time. We’ve all learned to moderate our language now I think, a little bit. Andrea didn’t moderate her language, really; during the whole course of her writing she refused to moderate. The necessity remains to destroy culture, but the optimism of the early 1970s about the possibility of radical social change no longer really exists, I suggest.

Now when researching my most recent book, which is Beauty and Misogyny, I searched for feminist writings which were clear and unequivocal on the harms of and need to eliminate what are considered natural beauty practices in the West. And to my surprise, they were very hard to find. I think that I had overestimated the extent to which the sort of radical politics that Andrea Dworkin possessed, and that I possessed too, in the early seventies, were actually written down. Andrea did write them down, but then when I looked for politics that radical on beauty practices I didn’t really find them anywhere else. The only other person I found with such strong politics was Sandra Bartky from the late 1970’s. But otherwise, it wasn’t there. And I have to say that I don’t think Naomi Wolf really counts in that she was a lot later, but radical I don’t think that book is. We can discuss that if you would wish.

Andrea Dworkin sees beauty practices as having extensive harmful effects on women’s bodies and lives. Beauty practices, she says, are not only time wasting, expensive, painful to self esteem, rather, quote:

Standards of beauty describe in precise terms the relationship that an individual will have to her own body. They proscribe her mobility, [think high heeled shoes, tight skirts] spontaneity, posture, gait, the uses to which she can put her body.

And then she says, in inverted commas,

They define precisely the dimensions of her physical freedom.

Now that’s crucial to me, I do wonder how women are able to be totally imaginative, creative and create a new future for themselves in their minds, if their bodies are totally tied down and completely constricted. That seems a crucial understanding. Beauty practices aren’t just some kind of interesting optional choice, extra, but they fundamentally construct who a woman is and therefore how she is able to imagine, because they constrict her movements and create the behaviours of her body.

There we are, this is from the 1974 book Woman Hating, and you can see it says “Beauty Hurts” at the top, which is undoubtedly true. I think the little bit on the bottom says, “Why haven’t women made great works of art?” and the answer is “Because they are great works of art.” And this is the way that they are supposed to make themselves into works of art.

Now she says, the description she gives of what happens here, is that in our culture, and I think she’s writing about a culture here, not one part of a woman’s body is left untouched or unaltered, no feature or extremity is spared the art or pain of improvement: Hair is dyed, lacquered, straightened, permanented, eyebrows are plucked, pencilled, dyed, eyes are lined, mascara’d, shadowed, lashes are curled or false. From head to toe every feature of a woman’s face, every section of her body is subject to modification and alteration. And I remember when I first saw this diagram it had a considerable effect on me. Now I think, what are we missing? But at the time when I first saw it I thought that was very helpful, because it actually maps out what women take for granted, the extraordinary practices they perform on themselves every day, before they go out in the morning and so on. So many women take them for granted and it’s very important to actually have them mapped out here so we can see them.

Now today it would need to be supplemented with the more invasive and harmful practices that are becoming common in our times. So if we just look at what’s here then we can see what needs to go in. I thought it was quite interesting that she has actually got the navel bejewelled, I don’t know whether that means pierced, it probably does, but in 1974 not many women were piercing their navels. Now women are supposed to show their navels and have them pierced. So men are getting the sadomasochistic satisfaction of women’s pain and piercing just when they are walking round the street, sitting on the bus, and so on and so on, right. That’s very important.

Now here we have the cunt, that was the word we used at the time, I wasn’t tremendously keen on it then but there you go. The cunt, here, we have deodorised, shaved, and perfumed. Now we would have to say yes, completely shaved because women are doing Brazilian waxing to remove the hair entirely in Western cultures. I think they were probably just shaving bits around the edges in 1974, who knows. And labiaplasty, which is what’s going on now, which is that cosmetic surgeons take off women’s labia because women say they are unsightly or we get the explanation [from surgeons] that they get caught up inside during sexual intercourse and that’s uncomfortable. And I’m thinking, gosh, I used to be heterosexual, I can’t remember [anyone having] the problem! [laughter] Anyway, perhaps, apparently the labia hang out a little bit of the swimsuit. I’m thinking, why don’t we have swimsuits down here, I always wear, you know, summer wetsuits because I like to be covered up. You know you don’t have to have your labia hanging down the leg of your swimsuit [more laughter]. So obviously we would have to put labiaplasty in here.

Buttocks are girdled. I seem to remember my sisters and my mother had girdles, I didn’t actually wear a panty girdle as it was called in the 1960s. But now of course what women are supposed to do are extraordinary regimes of exercise to make sure they have a flat stomach, panty girdles are not really the way to go, but it’s all still going on. Breasts bound and siliconed, much more so, much more breast implants now than there ever was in 1974, nipples rouged and yes they probably have nipple rings in now because of that destruction of women’s bodies with piercing is absolutely de rigueur.

The face would be very different now because of course there’s lots of ordinary cosmetic surgery going on which is just like make-up now. Women are having botox in the face to paralyse their muscles, as an ordinary thing to do, every month you have it renewed and so on. So what I write about in my book is the way that the practices going on in 1974, and I did those practices too, what we have now is much more invasive, is now going in under the skin, drawing blood, and much more painful and brutal, than the practices that were happening at this time.

What Andrea also says about these practices is that “Beauty practices are vital to the economy.” Of course that’s true, there’s been hardly any work on how vital they are to the economy, and “They’re a major substance of male female role differentiation, the most immediate physical and psychological reality of being a woman.” In other words, they create sex difference. These practices–very harmful, painful, enormously expensive, time wasting and constricting to the body, and affecting what women can think–they create sexual difference. Otherwise how would we know who was on the top and who was on the bottom, and it’s crucial for male dominance that we know who’s on the top and who is on the bottom. Otherwise the system cannot work. So she explains that really well I think.

What I would like to do is criticise what’s going on in the culture now, and what I looked for, because I’m sad to say that this hasn’t changed, we haven’t suddenly got rid of sexual difference, women aren’t suddenly free to actually leave the house, both feet on the ground, hands in the pockets, not worrying about what they look like, bare faced, that’s not happened. That has not happened. It’s my wish for the future that it could happen, that women could have those human rights and freedoms that men have, just to be in the world, run down the street. It hasn’t happened.

Now, you will see the difference here, okay. The men are wearing loose suits, black shoes, and of course they have their mouths closed. Women’s mouths must be open so they can be penetrated at all times, and women’s bodies are open, right, so that’s really clear there. You have to go around going “Uh.” [laughter] I noticed this when I used to watch Dallas as a young girl, that the women have their mouths open, they say “Hello Deirdre, ah” and the men say, “Hello Deirdre, am.” [laughter] You will see here that the men are very very different from the woman. The woman in front, the Spice Girl, has got a lot of her body showing, she’s on incredibly high heeled shoes that would be immensely painful to her, and so on. So I think that even though she’s a celeb, its quite a good example I think, of what a lot of women would like to be, what they would like to look like and try to make themselves into when they go out. So what we have here is the sadomasochistic romance. I think this is extraordinary, and I think that a lot of people just accept it so much they probably wouldn’t even comment or think that was peculiar. I find it extraordinary, we’re in 2006, and this is what is going on. Women are in pain, totally disabled, showing their bodies, taking part in what I call the sexual corvee, which is, you know, how the peasants in medieval France, the serfs would have to do work on the landlords land for nothing in order to even cultivate their own land, this is what women have to do, it’s the sexual corvee, to create men’s sexual satisfaction on the streets and everywhere else they have to do this to their bodies, in order to have the right to, I think in terms of equal opportunities, these days, be in offices, have jobs, be out there in the world, this is the compensation, it’s the sexual corvee that they have to perform.

Perfectly ordinary picture, nothing peculiar, but I think it’s extraordinary. I think the shoes are extraordinary, the fact that she has to expose all her body and I assume she has shaved her legs in order to be able to do this, and so on and so on, and what she’s had to do with her hair, and her face, and the facial gestures are of course crucially important and we need to look at them as well. And she does have her mouth open; I don’t suppose they’d want to photograph her with her mouth closed. Mind you he’s got his mouth slightly open as well, it’s fair to say. Okay. [laughter] But I don’t think it’s because he wishes to be penetrated!

I couldn’t find a man to go with her. She’s on her own but I’ve got her in because I thought it was kind of extraordinary. And I’d love to see a man in that costume! I think that would be great. Why don’t men go round in the evening in that costume? I mean, we’ve got equality, if that’s the situation, if we’re there now. Why aren’t men choosing, ’cause they tell us women choose these practices, choosing to do this? [laughter] Well they’re not, and I think it’s reasonable the men here could probably tell us why they’re not choosing to do this, yes, it’s degrading, it’s extremely painful, and it’s unpleasant. So that’s why they’re choosing not to do it. Okay.

I need to rush on. The cosmetic surgeons who do the cosmetic surgery also cut gender, inscribe gender, into the bodies of men who are trans-sexing, and trans-gendering. And the same surgeons take off the labia of women, and create the labia, supposedly of women, on men who are trans-gendering. And they’ve got websites where they offer all of this stuff. What they’re prepared to offer is getting more and more severe, I suspect at some time in the future they will be offering limb removal on demand, because this is the new thing, this is where we’re going. It’s called Body Identity Integrity Disorder, which is mostly men and I think many of them gay, who wish to have arms and legs removed, some of them wish to have all arms and legs removed, in order to become what’s called quads. Now if you look at the BIID website*, the surgeons and psychiatrists writing on that also do transsexual surgery, and they’re trying to get BIID into the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual in the US, which would mean that they could legally take legs off, and in fact a surgeon in Scotland has taken healthy legs off two healthy men on demand. Okay? So eventually, there isn’t really a limit, I’m saying to you, to the extraordinary forms of aggressive surgery that are being carried out by cosmetic surgeons.

Now in response to the feminist rejection of beauty practices which Woman Hating encapsulates so well, I abandoned such practices for myself back in 1973. What caused me to do so was reading two books, Sexual Politics and The Female Eunuch, in 1970 to 71. Before that I had long, straight hair which hung over my face, like that. I didn’t want people to see my face, and it was dyed mid golden sable. I used all kinds of make-up, including many different colours around my eyes, false eyelashes, and so on. I depilated my underarms and legs, I wore high heels, I did all that stuff. I was heterosexual and I accepted that I must perform the sexual corvee.

Now, Andrea Dworkin of course abandoned beauty practices, and this is one of the most significant ways in which her detractors have always pilloried her. But her lifelong determination to reject what she called sex roles, and they’re now called gender, and femininity was an inspiration to other feminists always. Few American feminists in particular have rejected femininity entirely. Despite their important contributions in other ways, they have not rejected femininity as firmly and straightforwardly as Andrea did throughout her career.

So we live in a world in which social and political requirements are not just instilled into the minds of citizens through ideological control, but carved into their flesh. In particular the physical requirements that are seen to represent correct gender are carved onto women’s breasts, labia, lips, and onto the bodies of the men who decide they’re women. And the savagery of these practices is an indication that we’re living under a more exacting regime of gender. I will suggest to you that in many ways we are in a worse place, in relation to what’s called gender, than we were before. We are living under what I’d call a new regime of gender. The term gender wasn’t in common usage in the 1970s when Andrea was writing, and she uses the term sex roles. And I like the term sex roles because it makes it clear that the behaviours it describes are socially constructed. It’s a nice, straightforward term, it comes out of sociology. In the 1990s the term gender was adopted by many feminists to stand in for what had previously been called sex roles, i.e. the socially constructed behaviour which boys and girls are acculturated to adopt, in forms appropriate to their sex class categories. Some feminists went further and said the word “gender” was useful because it somehow contained within it the idea that men and women were involved in power relations in something called a “gender system,” or “gender relations.” I never quite understood that and I never liked the term “gender.”

What became clear very quickly was that the term gender experienced what’s called concept capture, in that it was appropriated by those with a very very different politics than feminism, and in fact in many cases anti-feminism. What happened in the nineties was that gender studies took over from women’s studies in universities; gender studies sections took over from women’s studies in bookshops. Meanwhile the term “gender” underwent this metamorphosis with concept capture and went back to the origins, the ways in which sexologists used it in the fifties, which was to describe gender in terms of cross genderism, the sexologists who dealt with transgenders in the fifties really used that term, and they gave it a biological basis, they said there was a biological substrate in the minds of men and women that meant that they could or couldn’t learn the correct gender behaviour. These days the way they explain transgenderism is to say that in the womb, the foetus–there’s no way to prove it so it has to be some kind of mystical thing you can’t prove–in the womb the foetus gets washed in a sudden burst of hormones one day, one morning maybe, and then from then on the person is going to feel they’ve got a different and wrong gender. All right? Can’t prove it, but that is seen as the biological basis of transgenderism today.

“Gender” became an alternative word for sex, so although sex was seen as biological by feminists and gender as socially constructed, eventually “gender” came to stand in for sex. You know that because at universities there are forms for instance that students have to fill in, and there are gender tick boxes, right: gender, tick the box, f or m. And of course, a lot of us would think, I can’t do that, I haven’t got a gender and I don’t want one. So you’re forced in to this, you know, when did you stop beating your wife situation, where you are not able to answer the question. Really, when offered gender, I mean my response would be No, Thank you, [laughter] but I’m not allowed to say on the form, No, thank you. It’s assumed now that gender is the same thing as sex, so gender has, you know, metamorphosed in the public mind.

Now another aspect of this concept capture is the development of a movement of transgender activists, originally called transsexuals. In the nineties this became transgenderism and became more general. Some queer and post-modern theorists would say that transgenderism includes various forms of transvestism, which is usually just the lead up to transgenderism, as well as actual transitioning and sex reassignment surgery. Now, transgenders are committed to traditional notions of gender for their excitement and apparently for their very identities, whereas feminists of the seventies and eighties considered that sex roles would have to be eliminated in the pursuit of women’s freedom. Transgenders seek to protect gender from criticism. They’re involved in what I call a “gender preservation movement,” and through changing legislation in Western countries they’re involved in a gender protection racket. All right? The best example of the gender protection racket is the 2004 legislation in the UK called the Gender Recognition Act, more about that in a moment.

Now gender has now been quarantined for use, not to do with women at all, in the context of transgenderism. There was a 2005 book, called Gender Politics by Surya Monro, published by Pluto Press, and it doesn’t deal with what Surya Monro says are called non-trans women. I think most of the women in this room are probably what are called non-trans women. Judith Butler now calls us bio-women. So as transgenderism actually creates a proper concept of real women, women who are not transgender now have to have a prefix in front of their name, they become non-trans or bio. Hello, Bio-Women! [laughter] In the book, it doesn’t cover women but it’s called Gender Politics, and she does cover sadomasochist and fetish citizenship, on the grounds of human rights. There needs to be human rights for sadomasochists and fetishists, but women are not in the book. Now this is all in a book called Gender Politics, so you can see how far we’ve come from gender being useful to women.

Now the “gender protection racket” has resulted in extraordinary legislation, as in the Gender Recognition Act. In this legislation the term gender is used as if it’s synonymous with sex. The Act enables men or women to come before a Gender Recognition Panel to get a certificate saying that they now have a different gender. The process doesn’t require surgery or hormone treatment, just documents from the medical profession, attesting to the fact that this person has done the real life test of wearing the clothes of the opposite sex. That’s all that’s necessary. One of the results of it is that female to male transsexuals, that is lesbians who have an interest in masculinity, can actually have babies after they’ve got a certificate saying they’re Andrew’, right. So in the maternity ward we could have Andrew’ over the door and Andrew will give birth to a baby. Transgender activists want Andrew then to be able to go down as the father of the child on the birth certificate. That’s not allowed in this legislation but that is what they would like. So that’s how far we’ve got. There are all sorts of other crazy elements of this legislation.

Now one of the things I find puzzling about it is that, when I look at the House of Lords debate on this legislation, those I agree with most are the radical right. Particularly the person I find that I agree with most, in here, and I’m not sure he will be pleased to find this, is Norman Tebbitt. Now, Norman Tebbitt is not having any of it, right, so in response to the Gender Recognition Act, he says, he gives a very good definition of gender as socially constructed and says, in your act you’ve got it confused, right, it should say sex and you’ve got gender. And Lord Filkin, for the government, who is putting this legislation through, says that sex and gender are the same thing and anyway, what does it matter? Right, isn’t that extraordinary? Tebbitt then accuses him of linguistic relativism. Which I love. [laughter] Couldn’t have put it better myself. Tebbitt also says that the savage mutilation of transgenderism, we would say if it was taking place in other cultures apart from the culture of Britain, was a harmful cultural practice, and how come we’re not recognising that in the British Isles. So he makes all of these arguments from the radical right, which is quite embarrassing to me, but I have to say, so called progressive and left people are not recognising the human rights violations of transgenderism or how crazy the legislation is. The legislation makes us engage in a folie à everybody, right? Everybody now has to go mad in order to understand or respond to this legislation.

Okay, what I am worried about is that in this new regime of gender, this very savage regime, we might all have to come before a gender recognition panel. The piece I am writing about this act at the moment is They’ll know it if they see it, The Gender Recognition Act’. I mean if I come before the gender recognition panel, because the State is now regulating gender, it’s always regulated sex but now it’s got into gender, right. If I come before the panel what are they gonna say? I can’t say “no thanks” to them. So we’ve reached a rather dramatic stage where the State and legislation has got involved in regulating gender in incredibly traditional and very vicious, and I think, quite savage ways.

Right, I know I’m going to have to rush to the end. Why is all of that practice, the practice of transgenderism and that legislation acceptable? I think because there’s a very very deep-seated understanding within Western culture and perhaps all cultures, that something called gender does exist, must exist, cannot be got rid of, that there is some inevitable biological difference, doesn’t matter if it hops about and goes to the people you wouldn’t expect to have it, as long as it stays there. What cannot be imagined, is that gender could be got over, got through, and removed so that all women could have their feet on the ground. And that’s the crucial thing I think about Andrea Dworkin’s work and about Woman Hating, is she said, “We have to destroy culture as we know it.” Not accommodate gender with extraordinary legislation, terrible mutilating operations and hormones for the life of these unfortunate people who have been confused and destroyed by the gender system in which we presently live.

I’ll have to leave out everything else I was going to say and simply say at the end that reading Andrea Dworkin’s work makes me feel sane. It helps me to feel that it’s reasonable to work towards the elimination of gender, not tinkering, but actually working towards the elimination of gender. And it helps me in my conviction that feminism will come again. Looking back at 1974, the fact that we’re having this celebration, the fact that there are young women interested in the work of Andrea Dworkin, makes me feel more confident about the future. Thank you. [applause]

Please note: The photos were substituted as the photos shown by Sheila Jeffreys during the talk were not available.

#Appearance and Beauty Practices

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