She wasn’t actually a prostitute, apparently; that was something her opponents put about to discredit her. Because any woman who speaks out in favor of women’s sexual autonomy, defends people who cohabit without being married, and condemns the double-standards of male vs. female sexuality is totally a whore, amirite? (It seems she was personally against prostitution, but she argued in favor of its legalization so that it could be better regulated and safer, or at least published others’ arguments to that effect.) The rest seems to be reasonably true, though!
Tumbling over the past year and a half has made me see the problems of gender roles that exist in media, but sometimes it gets to the point where I over analyze every single piece of television or film that I come across. (However this in no way means that I think feminist media criticism is wrong, or should be avoided!) Mostly I just over think everything.
that’s some old stuff, considering. it’s been a year since i’ve brewed anything more than kombucha. the wineberry mead really did need to sit for two years. this summer, like then, i’ll be hanging off the steep hillside between the road and the fishing hole, knee-deep in poison ivy and chest-deep in the soft briars of wineberry canes, filling buckets. the side’s so steep i tie a rope to the guardrail to slide myself down, but for half an acre of pure umblemished wineberry, it’s worth it. and there’s the river to dunk in after.
oh, john green, i was angry at you. knowing you from tumblr i intentionally restrained myself form reading your books - what if i didn’t like them? what if i don’t want to be launched forcibly and eloquently back to the trauma and mystery of adolescent rumblings at love. and OH WAS I RIGHT.
dammit, john green, don’t do this. don’t write the manic pixie dream girl. fuck you fuck you fuck…oh. hello. and by the end, bless these little trickles of making the damn point, and bless that pain of trying to let go of the suicidal friend you loved. and thank you universe for handing me this book from a used-book-sale.
also i get entirely too much of a kick out of imagining what the hell someone thought when gifting this “you think you love her but you don’t even know who she is because what you love is your desire for her etc” book to a couple..