Witch of the words

She woke up one day and she knew by the look in the eyes of the sun shining behind a curtain of clouds after a rainstorm. It was true. She could feel it rising up in her gut. She tried to name it. She stopped. She didn’t have to say anything. She just had to make it stay. Permanently. She went to it – unthinking. Picked it up. Golden and shining. The cover had her name on it. A gift. It beckoned her to open it. She saw the lines. Blank and unassuming. So innocently organized but with no meaning. There was no life. Yet. 

Where was the pen? Or a pencil? The wand to churn thoughts into incantations.

As soon as she puts it down on paper and reads it out loud, first to herself and then to her audience, she knows what she has is power. She has magic. Her spellbook contains all the charms, the secrets and the in-betweens to prove she is entitled to her throne. She can wield words like no other. 

She has to look back. On all the days, she could have been cruel, hiding behind a joke, masked sarcasm. She had mostly done good rather than evil. Said the right words even to the wrong person. She thought it’s her calling to be there. Anywhere a friend needed. Kind to strangers. Paying it forward. To whom? For how long? She was running out of time, but not love.

One said you deserve to be loved. Someone mentioned all the love she could give. Have you thought about having children? As if the idea was brand new in her late thirties. She closed her eyes just to see the word selfish flash in her mind. Do you think you’re entitled to be titled a mom? I would love them unconditionally, she argued with the nagging voice inside her head.

The voice just shook her head. How would you know how to do something you have never even experienced? How can you tell, she pleaded. How do you think, it retorted.

There it was again. That word she loved the most. Dilemma and she dreaded it. It wasn’t the path less taken that intimidated her. It was the choosing. Words were the only things that came to her without question. Everything else was a choice she was afraid of making. A mistake. She would stand by it or fix it. She will go back and try to retrieve it. She would not regret anything as long as she was sure it was hers to begin with.

To be or not to be anything, a mom, a friend, a lover or an author, was another one of the questions. She didn’t ask it, so why should she have the answer? 

She closes her eyes. That’s the last thought she thinks before it all fades into another rainy day behind the windows of her apartment.

On merits of being T****

This is going to be a controversial post. I know it as I write this. But, it has been on my mind forever, and three things happened recently that prompted me to be braver to talk about it.

Photo by Cliff Booth on Pexels.com
  1. As you know, it was my birthday recently, my 34th. every year as I approach the day when I was born, I make resolutions that I adhere to for the next 364 days. Mostly! on my 33rd, I decided to start eating healthy and working out which resulted in me losing 20kg of weight and gaining some muscles. I loved myself when I was overweight but I also think that we are in charge of taking care of our bodies. That was my main reason for doing it, not peer pressure, nor fashion nor even a boyfriend (I was single at the time and also during the past year). I learned long ago that I would not tolerate being in a relationship with someone who would not accept me the way I am and that will always stay true no matter what. So on my birthday this year, I decided that I will start the foundations for a headstand so that by the time I am 35, I will be able to do it. I just love the core strength that comes with it. I was talking to a guy friend (this guy is pretty much your classic patriarchal and chauvinistic guy) but he and I are not sexually involved (this is important in the story, just hold on). So I told him about my resolution and he said without any prompt or being asked: “but it won’t work, your neck will break if I try to f*** you in that position!” I was speechless. I was talking about an activity for my health and my benefit only, talking about my resolutions and here he was just seeing it from his point of view. Me as an object to be had sex with. I did not have any humanity or personality other than him being intimate with me in NEW positions!
  2. Yesterday, I was watching an Instagram live of a Farsi speaking feminist. she was explaining what the pyramid of misogyny is and how it starts from the slightest ignorance of women’s feelings and lack of empathy, to dehumanizing them and rape and it ends with physical removal of women that is called murder. She was talking about the things that have been happening in Iran for decades but especially the last three months (since before I immigrated to Canada), several girls were killed by their dads (in Iran, a man can kill his wife or children with no consequence as he owns them). and then they removed the picture of schoolgirls from math books, they condemned and threatened women who came forward with their #metoo stories, and to top it off they portrayed the 80th birthday of Shajarian (our beloved classical music artist) with no women in the picture! So you can see why she was talking about the basics of woman hating and at the same time getting bullied on her live so hard that she had to disconnect and start from the beginning with the comments off!
  3. And last but not least, last night I was browsing on Tik Tok as per usual, when this lady that I didn’t know (she was not from Iran or the middle east) came up in a video in which she was explaining that women’s arousal equals them not being tight (which is a good thing), but she had to make another video to reply to a MAN saying that and I quote “your wrong lady, we know when its not tight, pomegranate juice might help”. I did not have to read the name to know the signature phrase of pomegranate juice coming from Iranian male suffering like most Iranian men from micropenis.
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

So, these things brought me to the verbal objectification of women that is a common daily occurrence happening to all women everyday. If you are a woman in Iran and have contact with men, there is a high probability of you hearing this phrase: “don’t pretend to be tight”. Yes, you read that right. Do NOT PRETEND TO BE TIGHT WHEN YOU ARE NOT BECAUSE THAT IS A HUGE FAUX PAS ALMOST PUNISHABLE BY LAW! well not yet, at least. But leave it to the average Iranian man to try and pass it up as law sooner or later. In a society where being tight is the only virtue you can bring to a relationship, pretending to suffer from it while you are not actually it, is a no no. You can only have a say, if and only if you are tight. You can only be serious if you can make a man feel big enough by hurting when they are inside of you. You can have terms and conditions only if you have that quality. If you are not tight or tight enough, you cannot disagree with a man, or ask for your basic human rights, because you do not have anything to offer, nothing to bargain with. It is only by virtue of tightness that you can have a semblance of being treated with a shred of respect. And in this world, when you prove your tightness through the physical act of intercourse, you will go up on the list of the women that can be called human, which is only his mother and now it can include you, until you stop being tight, that is.

Iranian men love traveling to Thailand to feel the tightness. Iranian men think that being tight when they are intimate with you is a sign of virtue. They refuse to believe that it is a sign of their inadequacy in making us feel comfortable enough to actually be aroused while being intimate with them. And if you have the misfortune of not being tight enough, you can always sit in a pool of pomegranate juice overnight to make yourself ready for your owner (aka husband/fiancé/boyfriend).

In a country where your only job is being a sexual object and your only value, tightness, in a country that ranks 140 out of 144 countries in the gender gap, there are still people who tell us that feminism is redundant and feminists are ISIS members and pornographers! The only thing that Iran can rank lower in, other that its currency, would be its male genitalia size (sigh of relief from Iranian men when they realize there is no such ranking)!

I recently figured out that the reason you have to ask permission from your husband to leave the country is, if you leave you will see other men and compare them with Iranian men and will definitely see the many things wrong with them and will most probably not want to be with an Iranian men. I love how innovative and smart, men are being with their patriarchy. They are true geniuses.

We as feminists have to learn to utilize the same evil genius against patriarchy. We have to stop playing by the rules of a society whose argument is your tightness. We have to as Mona Eltahawy says: “F*** the Patriarchy!”

Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

Why Do I Like Romantic Comedies?

First and Foremost, please know, before reading ahead that I am a Feminist. It defines me. It is who I am, who I want to be. I identify as feminist, more than I identify as a cisgender bisexual woman.

Yesterday, I was watching Silver Linings’ Playbook, not for the first time, but for the first time with a guy, my boyfriend. He had said he wanted to watch the movies that I watch and like.

The thing is that Rom-Coms are not even on the top of the list when it comes to what movies I would like to watch. For me, the way it goes is I do NOT watch horror movies because I will have to literally sleep with the lights on and look behind me every 3 seconds for three months straight every time I watch one. The last one I watched was The Invisible Man in March and by the end of June I had logged so little good sleep due to the lights being on all night and my eyes not getting any rest. I have no one to blame for that. As a feminist, I made myself watch it. I really am interested in and terrified of GASLIGHTING, which this movie promised to be. So, I had to watch it. Women issues come before sleeping.

Now that we have established what kind of horr-ible (P.S. I love word plays) movies I don’t watch, we will see what the process actually is for the ones I do watch.

I organize my to watch list, like I organize everything else. Based on Priority, haha.

What are my priorities you ask? good question!

I do not have a specific genre that I stick to, I mean if it comes to it, I will choose Indies over other movies. But my go to criteria is the subject matter, director, Rotten Tomato score, reviews, trailers, actors, my own mood, friends’ recommendations (not many people fit in this category, haha), availability of the movie.

So, I could basically watch anything as long as the subject matter appeals to me. My least favorite subject matter to this date as SNL put it: “White Male Rage”. So, it is a fair field, if you have a recommendation, come forward, I am always open to suggestions. But you only have one strike and you are out. So, thread carefully.

This all being said I have watched and still watch my fair share of romantic comedies, which I recently had an epiphany about, which brings us to the featured photo for this post.

The reason most women would rather watch rom-coms than any other genre (the second one being horror movies, I guess, based on consensus form my acquaintances), is that it is the only genre that has any interest in depicting a woman in any capacity. Up until recently there were no roles for women in life and in movies, if you wanted to see a woman you had to watch Family Man with Nicholas Cage as the lead actor to get a taste of what Tea Leoni was feeling as a woman. Even rom-coms were named after men, we are only here to support. So, of course I will jump at the idea of watching The Good Wife & Grey’s Anatomy, and stay clear of Breaking Bad (obvious reasoning here).

Horror comes second in female favorite genre as in it we are at least victims, we get some airtime of our own and that in itself is precious.

Men get offended usually, when I say I have no interest in watching their favorite series or movies, siting their high scores and reviews (as if most critics weren’t men talking about what men made about men! Irishman being case in point). But when I say that I watch only material made by women, for women about women they frown upon my extreme feminism as if they have not being doing the exact opposite all their lives!

Not only men only watch movies about men made by men, they call rom-coms sappy and feminine, in order to relinquish even the slightest responsibility to learn about women or watch them in action.

I don’t think there is any shame in watching rom-coms. The only reasoning that is used to make it to be inferior is that women are supposed to be of inferior importance so that anything about their worldview is intrinsically less valuable. It certainly is not. Calling them chick flicks and things that men are forced to watch on dates is also sexist. If we have to watch star wars to get in your good graces, that is worth 100 rom-coms at least that you need to watch to compensate for us losing brain cells watching star wars.

My solution to all this misogyny is watching Indie movies that are about people, women, men and children with a brand new attitude.

Last night, I watched Lynn and Lucy and it was glorious. Recommended.

End of Epiphany.

Share your thoughts.