My "Awwww" Moment

This is a picture from our super-secret meeting at
Krispy Kreme, back when we were plotting - I mean
planning - Operation: Anti-Discrimination . . .

I know I talk a lot about the girls in Real Beauty Revolution (the women's rights club I started at my high school), but I dug something out of my drawer the other day that pretty much had me grinning like an idiot, and I wanted to gloa--- I mean share. 

A while back we did the time-tested activity where everybody passes a paper around and writes something (nice) about each other. I recognized my paper immediately when I found it, because it's bright, blinding yellow with a precarious grease stain that just decided to show up one day. Nonetheless, reading it over for the nth time made me remember why I love what I do - and who I am.

You see, RBR didn't take off like I wanted it to (we have a steady membership of about eight). But instead of standing up in front of a group of girls I don't know each week, I get to sit at a table with girls I've gotten to know so well in a matter of just a few months. We laugh, and joke, and talk about the "big things," and generally support each other when somebody has a problem or something on their mind. 

It's corny, yes, but because "my girls" are mostly freshman (excluding a few of my Junior friends who managed to sneak in), I've gotten to play the older sister role. And if I had even a tiny, miniscule, microscopic fraction in helping them to become more confident and to realize how smart and strong and beautiful they are . . . that would just make everything I strive for - everything I believe in - worth it, you know?

So! Back to the point, here are a few of the things that were written on my paper. I plan to keep this thing for a hundred years (or more!) just so whenever somebody tells me "Give up!" or "This stuff is a waste of time!" I can whip it out and say "Excuse me, I think these girls would believe otherwise."

P.S. Pay special attention to the last one. *smiles*

Sting Operation Results Part #1: Hollister

Life's Big Question #283: Why don't the models
in clothing ads ever wear any clothes?

Well, as I sit here in the gentle glow of my brother and his girlfriend playing through a stack of new video games (Santa brought me a Chuck Norris t-shirt and feminist literature!*), I would like to wish everybody a very happy Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus, or whatever the heck it is that you celebrate. If your family is anything like mine, today should consist of comfy pj's and incessant snacking . . .

Anyway, it's taken me long enough, but I've finally summoned the strength to write about last Saturday's sting operation. I am, however, realizing that if I want to do this thing right it's going to take a lot more than one post.

For those of you who didn't scroll down a few notches to read my last post, the girls from Real Beauty Revolution and I conducted a little sting operation at a nearby mall last Saturday. Each dressed as a different stereotype (see below), we infiltrated several stores (that sounds cooler than "walked into") to see how the workers would react to us. We wanted to see how blatant discrimination is in today's society - be it against sex, physicality, economic status, or otherwise - and while I can't say that we got any 100% conclusive results, it was a very eye-opening and, strangely, empowering experience.

I've decided to go about this one store at a time. I apologize if I'm keeping anybody on the edge of their seat (anybody?) but I've got a lot to say, and I don't want to glaze over anything just to keep a modest word count. So, what better way to introduce Operation: Anti-Discrimination than to recognize the lovely ladies (or better yet, kick-ass chicks) who made it possible:



From Left to Right: Lacee, Carrie, Jenny (eating Lorrie's head),
Lorrie (having her head eaten), Holly, Tia, Saundra, and Tamara.



If you look a bit closer, we're loosely divided into three categories:

• The Rocker Chicks: Tamara, Saundra, Lacee and I (though I'm not in the picture) were somewhere in the goth-to-rocker spectrum.
• The Preps: Lorrie and Holly suffered from what one might jokingly refer to as "preppy-princess-itis."
• The Normies: Tia, Carrie, and Jenny were dressed normally . . . though "normal" easily passed for "grubby" in some of the stores we went into.

In a pre-operation meeting at a nearby Krispy Kreme (that pretty much felt like we were planning a bank robbery), we devised a brilliant plan to enter our targeted stores in three waves. First, two or three girls would enter a store and plant themselves near some workers without being too conspicuous. Next came the stereotype "operative" who was different depending on the store (i.e. the person who would look most out of place). And finally, a second round of "observers" as we called them would meander in to play extra sets of eyes and ears. It was the stereotype operative's job to wreak a little havoc - ask questions, seek help, simply exist - but it was the observers' job to mentally log everything and anything that was going on around them.

In all the weeks it took RBR to plan Operation: Anti-Discrimination, I only had one request:

"I want Hollister."

Meaning, of course, that I wanted to be the stereotype planted in the blasted place because I've heard too many horrific tales of discrimination and abuse not to want to check it out for myself. And going into that skinny paradise as a PLUS-SIZE WOMAN who's been the victim of understocked and sizist stores her entire life (and who also warrants capital letters to contain her fabulosity*), I felt like some kind of crusader for every girl out there who's been told her thighs were too big, her boobs were too small, or . . . well, just think up some misogynist crap that's been fed to you.

*Did I really say "fabulosity"?

If you want to know the truth I was quite happy with my get-up, but only because it was what I wear on a daily basis. Donning a slightly worn Dream Theater cap, Iron Maiden t-shirt (with "Best of the Beast" printed on the back in bold, red letters), old jeans, fuzzy striped socks, messy locks, and a mocking expression, I felt like a warrior geared up to face her demons.

Lorrie was a good partner in crime for
our first stop! I have more pictures of
The Girls to show in future posts :)

I was nervous up to the second we stepped inside the store, which was dimly-lit and smelled as if it had been fumigated with cologne, but thinking back, I don't know why I was so worked up. Maybe because I had never been in there? Because my brother and I have always made "snooty" comments when we pass it in the mall? Because I half-expected the place to look like some "beautiful peoples' nightclub" where I would be the freak attraction? I dunno.

Life Lesson #4,313: the Teenage Girl mind isn't always rational.

Anyway, I slithered into Hollister with my new friend Lorrie in tow (our established "preppy" stereotype). Our million-dollar idea was to act like we were trying to find a shirt for her mom. Now I know what you're thinking: a prep and a rocker joining forces? But I knew finding a shirt for me, a plus-size girl in an old Iron Maiden shirt, would be a stretch. And besides, stereotypes suck.

"So, Lorrie, you're looking for a shirt for your mom?"

"Yeah, she likes blue."

"What size?"

"Probably XL."

"Don't you mean 2XL?" Wink.

"Oh, yeah!"



*Hypnotic voice* I am a young, attractive,
white female. You want to be me . . . and
even though you'll never come close, Hollister
clothes might help. A bit. *Demon voice*
BUY THEM!

We searched for a tag that didn't say XS, S, or even M, but (unsurprisingly) came up empty-handed. Holding up those shirts that were purportedly medium made me feel either (a) that I was a size XXXXXXL by Hollister standards, or (b) that I had cast some wacky spell and everything was shrinking around me. The shirts were so small.

"I dunno Lorrie, I've never been in this store before" I said in my best acting voice, yet remaining entirely truthful, "they must have a plus-size section in the back somewhere."

By this time - with secret agents planted all around me, falling from the rafters even - I worked up the gumption to trot over to the counter to a wide-eyed, perfectly trimmed employee. She had pale skin (shock?) and curly brown hair, but I made a mental note that she probably still fit Hollister's "beautiful employee" requirement.

"Hi, we're trying to find a shirt for her mom . . . but I noticed the sizes only go up to Large."

"Yes . . . our largest size in women's clothing is 11."

Mock disappointment.

"Will you be getting a plus size section any time soon?" I asked, chuckling a bit and trying to seem personable. "It just seems funny to only go up to size 11 when the average person can't fit into that."



Blink, blink. I guess whatever the heck I said didn't compute. The girl looked at me - my senior by only a few years - and said she "wouldn't know the answer to that."

I thanked her for her time and left, muttering disappointments about the store to Lorrie as I shook my head like a reproving grandmother. I hadn't felt overtly discriminated, but one of the observers, Jenny, noticed that the oh-so-lively store clerk "grimaced" as I was walking away. When I asked Jenny what that meant she said "It was a why-would-you-ask-that sort of look."

Now, is that enough for me to convict Hollister of any sort of crime?

*Sigh* No. And I was so ready to sue any sucker who looked at me funny.

But that was only the beginning of the epically-titled Operation: Anti-Discrimination. We also went into Hot Topic, Torrid, Gamestop, Macy's, Nordstrom, Abercrombie - and I even stood up to annoying, holier-than-thou idiots at Spencers when I called one of their sexist shirts into question.

More about that later! So stay tuned!

_______________________________________________

*Santa, being the wily fellow he is, brought me The Purity Myth by Jessica Valenti! I mentioned the book in an earlier post but haven't had a chance to read it until now. It's pretty freaking amazing, considering I lapped up the first 80 pages in about twenty minutes. It's all about the ridiculosity of a juxtaposition women face each and every day: pressures to be sexy on one side (think: pornography, 15-year-old sex icons, padded bras for children), and pure on the other (think: crazy idiots who blame sex education for promiscuity and measure womens' worth by their hymens).

It just amazes me that people could be so closed-minded about sexuality, propagate an archetype in which girls (i.e. pretty, young, white girls) are only worth something if they're virgins, and find a way to blame feminism for virtually everything.

My eyes have been bulging like crazy reading the book, and I'll look up and begin to rant - but then I realize it's only my brother and his girlfriend there, and they don't appreciate a good fem-rant . . . *pouts*

P.S. If anybody's looking to get me an early Christmas present for next year, the next "Valenti gem" on my list is He's a Stud, She's a Slut: And 49 Other Double-Standards Every Woman Should Know!

My Two Cents on "True Beauty"

You always hear people talk about "true beauty" like it's this untouchable, imaginary thing we keep locked up inside. I think this picture (taken at one of our Real Beauty Revolution meetings) proves that theory wrong.

True beauty is tangible, robust, uninhibited, and real.

I'm Back (Kind Of . . . )

Hey everybody! It's been a while since my last post, so I thought I owed you all an explanation. I've been back at school for about a month now, and boy, it doesn't get any easier, does it? My routine has basically been waking up 6:00, going to school, getting home at around 5:30, taking a nap, doing homework until the wee hours of the morning, crashing, and then starting the cycle all over again. In short, I haven't had much time to relax, let alone write.

Though I don't think I'll be cranking out epics anytime soon, I thought up a pretty ingenious plan. To make school a little more bearable, I've been bringing my passions (i.e. read the rest of this blog) into the classroom. A week or two ago we had to write an article as if we were a "muckraker" back in the late 1800's exposing a dire issue; I wrote about women's rights. In my Interpersonal Relationships class we had to do a presentation on "someone we admire"; I did mine on Gloria Steinem. Even today we were assigned to write a satirical piece on a current societal issue; my topic is abortion. I figure: when given a choice, I'll relate my schoolwork to the issues that I actually care about, and then I can just post 'em up on here! Genius, pure genius . . .

On an unrelated note, I'm extremely excited for Real Beauty Revolution this year. For those of you who don't know, I started at club called Real Beauty Revolution at my high school, and it's for anyone who's interested in gender equality, body image, media stereotypes, relationships, self-esteem . . . you know, the juicy stuff. Though I've been having a heckuva time getting the word out, I think the club has had a good start. We only had about ten people at our first meeting (half of which were my friends, so they don't really count!), but it was really intense. We did some of the activities from If You Really Knew Me and saw that, wow, we're all dealing with crap in our lives. We talked about how people at school never stop to get to know the real us - that we're always stuck in a reputation, an image - but we're so much more than that. The first meeting saw a lot of tears, but I think that's so important in getting people to realize RBR is a safe place to talk, and vent, and most importantly, encourage one another.

We had our second meeting yesterday and I am ecstatic to report that we had almost twenty people attend! Our discussion topic for the day was "true beauty," so we looked at ridiculous ads that try to tell us how we "should" look. Bigger breasts. Plastic surgery. Virtually no fat cells. It's exhausting to be a women sometimes when we're tirelessly bombarded with these messages, but we don't have to let them control us. Next, we wrote our fears and insecurities on balloons and stomped on 'em . . . it was really fun and loud. I only hoped the administrators didn't come running into the breezeway thinking shots were being fired *smiles*

Anyway, that's my life right now. School, homework, Real Beauty Revolution. I'll try to write some original pieces in the near future when I actually get some free time, but for right now you'll have to settle for recycled History and English assignments!