Page 354: Sometimes (part 34)

Attended a wedding a few days ago. And as I predicted, people asked why I’m still single. I shrugged, as usual, and put a chagrined smile. I predicted too, that some of them would say that it’s because I have a good job. Too good for women. It makes me look too independent. Men would feel intimidated. And as usual, I replied “oh what a win-win solution then! Because I don’t want to be with a guy who feels intimidated by my achievements either. He can have his own thing. I can have mine.”

More often than not, I smile afterward. But that time I was too tired. Physically. Emotionally. So I let them see my resting bitch face. I let them see I was being serious with my statement. That every cell in my body was annoyed. Annoyed with this society that considers small talk like that is acceptable. That considers men have to be superior. That considers women as tools to feed their ego.

Sometimes, the way they worship some fallacy exhausts me.

Page 324: Fleabag

There are two types of sadness that can caused by a movie or a TV show, in my opinion:
1. Classic one. The one that makes you cry, the kind of sadness that’s easier to be understood. The less complicated one.
2. The one that shakes your soul, makes you speechless, haunts you for days, and once in a while makes you think about your life. But there’s no tears, it’s just inexplicable and sort of depressive, just like Darren Aronofsky’s movies.

Fleabag contains the second one, like most dark comedy shows. The final episode from its season 1 made me feel uncomfortable after some mysteries finally have been revealed and the dots have been connected. I read somewhere that Phoebe Waller-Bridge, the writer and creator intentionally put the sad and or shocking scene after a funny one. Because that's the right time to attack the audience with the right amount of bitterness since happiness makes them a little bit fragile. I personally think it’s brilliant. Sick, sort of, ha, but brilliant.

image courtesy: here

image courtesy: here

Fleabag is definitely for people with morbid sense of humor – like me and my friend who recommended it to me; who love to laugh at shitty things that happen in our life since that’s one of our best coping mechanisms; who more often than not, laugh at inappropriate moments; and have fondness for metaphors and irony. But as a single woman in this modern life who sometimes feels the anxiety for knowing that some people in my life expect me to have a life that’s perceived as a normal one, it’s more than just entertaining. It makes me feel normal and not so alone.

I can relate to some of her problems. I can relate to loneliness that makes her more reckless. I can relate to her effort to be an independent woman who's too proud to admit that she needs help sometimes. I understand her weariness for having a big sister who seems to have a normal life. I understand that sometimes, laughing at problems that can make other people cry is your only weapon to make life more bearable and postpone the ache.

image courtesy: here

Fleabag is a not a lovable character. She’s pretty far from delightful, and you can’t say that she has many endearing qualities. Pity her? Yes, maybe. But at some point you might wish she kills herself. But the way she sees life and the way she survives in this life makes her interesting. She’s every fucked up 30(ish) person who is still clueless, silly, (sometimes) childish, with foggy career path and doesn’t seem to make it. She’s the anti-heroine you need to make you feel better about yourself, the martyr that put us on pedestal. 

But she’s also every single middle class girl who sometimes asks herself “what the hell is wrong with me?” or “how did I get here?” for lacking the ability to control herself from repeating the same mistake.

The series also talks about some issues related to woman, for instance, male ego in a changing world where gender equality is rising and they have to share the big cake of privilege and opportunities. (Okay, sorry, spoiler alert) One episode presented this in such a hilarious way. They had this camp to make men "a better man" by allowing them to yell at this sex doll about things that annoy them from women in their life. Like "slut!" or "who did you blow to get that job?". They had female only camp too, which was way weirder. One of the most memorable scenes for me was the speech that fleabag heard in the camp her father sent her to:

Leaving your voice in your head and trapping your heads in your skull. Think of it as a thought prison in your mind. Firstly, we're going to teach you how to breathe. Then we will have a short meditation, then we will find our sanctuary in the partaking of menial tasks all in perfect silence. Principal rules are no talking. If you need to communicate with any of our other superiors, you can write on that board. No matter what happens, a word must not be heard.

It’s like a satire of how women are still, somehow oppressed to not really express their thoughts and be more submissive. You’d find it funny, you might chuckle, but also curse a little bit.

I also liked how fleabag discussed female sexuality and modern dating (and the plight of it). From sexting, hooking up, to instant gratification and complacency. Her comment on anal sex was memorable and the masturbating part was silly yet true (sometimes, you're the only one whom you can count on, right, girls? Ha). After a terrific first season, I wonder what Phoebe Waller-Bridge would bring in the next season – something that I’m excited about.

image courtesy: here

Page 322: it's (not) just a pat

To be a woman means that every now and then you can have bad days when strangers assault you on the street and you’d still have the strength to yell at them, or punch them in the face, or kick them in the balls.

But there’s a day, like today, when you had a long day, and feel too tired to yell. Too tired to express the anger. Too tired to hold your tears when some stranger on a motorbike squeezed your ass and laughed as he fled. All you want that it never happened. And you just stared at the older man who saw it and told you to stop crying, because “it’s just a pat”. You’re speechless. You’re tired.

Because to him, it’s just a pat or a squeeze. To you, it’s a violation of your personal space, your haven, your approval. To him it’s just a pat or a squeeze. To you it’s a cruel act, telling you that what you wear, how you behave, or do things that make you feel proud of yourself, doesn’t matter that much. Because on the street, you’re just a piece of meat that they can touch whenever they want to feel more powerful.

There’s a day, like today, when I wished I had the power to be invisible.

Page 300: Anger

“You sound like an angry feminist,” he said, after we talked about how society is still more lenient on men when it comes to expressing sexuality and showing the rights to our bodies.

About rape and victim blaming.
About street harassment.
About being pro-choice.
About slut and prude shaming.
About how sometimes we lie about having boyfriend because some men don’t understand “no, I’m not interested in you. Period” when they ask us to go out on a date. Seriously, are we some kinda things that should have owners and when we’re single it means that we’re available?

“Maybe I am. I have the right to be angry. I just wish that someday my anger would contribute to change things I’m frustrated with,” I said.

image courtesy: http://www.terre-des-femmes.ch/en/

Page 179: Need. Needed. Needy

She: sometimes I think a girl that act dumb, needy, when actually she’s smart and independent, is kinda use her brain to attract man. They know that most men still have this perspective that men have to be superior to women, even the smart ones. They use it as a weapon, a particular strategy so those men will feel that these girls need them. Mmm…most of men prefer needy and spoiled women. Well, we know that they usually do. I think that’s why we think that it is hard to find a boyfriend. While actually, for them, independent and smart women like you and me…

Me: hahahaha. Independent and smart?

She: wait! We are. Independent and smart women like us, are pretty hard to handle. Because we have this image, that we don’t need them. Not as much as those act-dumb-needy girls.

This is not a sexist writing and I am not intending to make it vaguely looks like that, but somehow I agree with my friend on “most men need a needy woman, even the smart ones”. I knew it because I saw evidences (and experienced it). Other friend said that it’s not a shocker, because sometimes it is nice to be needed; to get the feeling that somebody rely on you, ask you like you’re on the same level of intelligence with Tesla, craving for your advice like you’re one of the wisest people on earth, etc. And by being needed by needy person, it’s like exaggerating the number of how important is you for this person.

And maybe, yeah, it’s an “effective” strategy to win a man, but somehow I think, “Bollocks! I refuse to act dumb, or needy”. If I don’t know about something, or really need help, I’ll ask. But I won’t pretend if I actually can handle it by myself just to get attentions. It’s not only condescending, but also degrading every woman. Degrading men too, because that kind of attitude make them look like needy and megalomaniac creatures that measure their existence from women who whining asking for their help for every unnecessary thing.

Maybe, at the end, it’s about self-content and territory.

Page 166: Yes...Yes... L.I.S.T.E.N

"LISTEN: Women's bodies, even ones into which you get to stick your penis, are not yours. Women have the right to be gross, to have hair, to be slow, to put on make-up, to not put on make-up, to wear fake eyelashes, to smell good or bad, and to be human beings. Women are not your dog our your lawn or your living room, you do not get to prune and groom and design us, and negotiating things like hygiene and style within a relationship is a matter of mutual respect. My right to do my own nails does not stop where your personal boner for trimmed cuticles begins.

Also, women: If you are single, it is not because your fake eyelashes are too bushy or Kevin doesn't like cucumber lotion. This shit is an oppressive waste of your time. Here's my new beauty tip for everyone on earth: Go read a book or something."

- Lindy West, Jezebel. Full article: here -

Page 161: Victim Blaming, Preaching, and Eid Mubarak.

Once, this sentence written on Jezebel, “more than 50 years after the women’s movement began, we’re still trying to silence women with dicks.” True. Although “weapons” used by misogynist could be different on each country/ area, the core strategy is still the same: use sex to beat women down. Besides rape, (and sexual assault, oppression, stupid law and regulation, etc), victim blaming is also one of the weapons to shut women’s minds and mouths.

Couple of days ago, after I had Eid Prayer at a mosque near my home and get ready to leave, an old lady in my neighborhood asked me why she rarely saw me during tarawih time this Ramadan, even on weekend. I simply answered I had tarawih at other places, because I want to get new experience. I wasn’t lying, I’d had tarawih at other places, I just didn’t tell her the details, that the mosque where we used to have tarawih at, disappointed me last year for invited preachers that spread this vague hatred towards other beliefs and women. I remember a preacher told this story about women that wearing short skirt or tight shirt can’t blame men entirely if they assault them sexually, because that kind of outfit is another way to seduce men without saying a word. Great! What a fallacy! That impolite cave man encouraged people to do victim blaming.

That was WTF moment. And that preacher is an a-hole.

I know how it feels to be blame when actually I was the victim. Years ago, a stranger groped my breast on a bus, and when I told my cousin about it, the first thing that came out from her mouth was, “what were you wearing that night? Maybe it was too tight so that man took the wrong signal.”

Another WTF moment.

I was angry that time. And I told her that there’s nothing wrong with what I wore (oversized shirt and jeans, and I was much skinnier back then, how seductive that could be?) but there’s definitely something wrong with that man’s brain and her head.

My points:
1. If a woman wearing tight dress or even bikini, doesn’t mean you can lay your hands on her just like that. My body is my temple, there’s list of rules and you have to respect it.
2. Quoting this person: Rape is caused by rapist, misogyny, structural violence, institutional tolerance. Not by women's clothes, the way she walks, the way she crosses her legs, the makeup she wears, being in the "wrong" place, drinking, or not being "careful enough".

Anyway, happy Eid Mubarak for all Moslem in the world. Happy holidays (if you had any) for the rest. This year Eid wasn’t that different from previous years, at least for me. Still busy help my mom preparing food for more than fifty people. Still help my dad rearrange furniture (but this year, including held the refrigerator for 15 seconds or more so it wouldn’t tumble down while my dad was fixing a wheel on its supporting board. After that, I can’t feel my arms and spine for a while :p ) so all family members could fit into our home. Still can’t eat anything with santan in it for a week (never really like santan, tho). Still munching kastengel continuously like there’s no tomorrow. Still make a cup of black coffee at night as a reward for myself on facing a super hectic day.

a cup of black coffee and a new book, a little piece of heaven :) 

I know this post has such a messy structure, but I’m stick with JK Rowling that, “For my own mental health, I need to write.”