Dear White People: Thoughts on Ferguson

[It's been a long time since  I've penned  a blog post. I've been bogged down with school and work and generally too busy to get on here. But some things are so important you have to make time to talk about them. In my gender and women's studies class this week, after the decision was made by the Grand Jury to not indict Darren Wilson for the murder of Mike Brown, my professor asked us how we felt. What I intended to be a short response turned into a long outpouring of grief and frustration. Answering his questions helped me to gather my thoughts on the situation. Here they are.]

 

While I was disappointed and hurt by the decision, I was not surprised. That was the part that hurt me the most. I wanted so badly to be surprised. But I knew better than to raise my expectations. The US "justice" system had failed so many times before, I knew better than get my hopes up. Still I had a hard time breathing, just as I had when the Zimmerman verdict was read. My heart still sunk and tears still sprang to my eyes.

Letter from a Toronto Suburb

On Saturday, August 9th, another innocent, young black man fell dead in the streets with his hands in the air, fired upon by a Caucasian police officer. Upon hearing the news, I was struck by the same sickening feeling I had when I heard that George Zimmerman was found not guilty of murdering Trayvon Martin who was suspiciously wearing a hoodie on a cool February evening; or when I read about the black woman beaten by a state trooper on the side of a California highway because she was talking to herself; or when I saw the news about John Crawford III who was shot and killed in a Walmart armed with nothing but a toy gun; or when I learned about the shooting of Relisha McBride whose only crime was needing help when her car broke down. Too many stories of black men and women being brutalized and killed for things that white people can do without fear. And each time it happens, our hearts cry, “Not again!” But it has been happening again and again.

Yes, slavery was abolished hundreds of years ago. Segregation ended decades ago. And yet, the systematic devaluation of black life—the implication that we are inferior and worthy of fear and distrust, this deeply ingrained belief that our work, our time, our contributions to society, our very lives are worth that much less than that of our pale-skinned cohorts—has not changed. 

I Speak for Myself: Why Men Need to Respect Women's "No"

Summer is here, and short skirts, tank tops, and sundresses are back in fashion. For most heterosexual men, this is a thing to celebrate. Most women are a bit more undecided about their sentiments toward ‘sundress weather’. You see, as the temperatures and hemlines rise, so do cat calls, lewd looks and the occurrences of “let me talk to you for a minute.” As a woman, I’ve come to expect this, and have made a sort of peace with it. What I’ve struggled to do is perfect my method of polite rejection. I’ve written about this before, and I must say, my method has not much improved. Being approached by men can be flattering, but more often than not, it’s frustrating because women are left to figure out how to say “no”, and have that “no” be heard and respected.

 

The standard response is “I have a boyfriend.” It feels safe and foolproof, or at least it used to, until dudes got wise and started asking why they couldn’t befriend you. But aside from its effectiveness, or lack thereof, I stumbled across another reason why women should stop using their boyfriends, real or imaginary, as a means of rejecting men who approach them