sexuality in color
Setting an intention together for a brighter, happier, more authentic, rewarding 2018.
What would it take to end sexual violence? We ponder that question today, while thinking about the wise words of disability/sexual violence advocate Mia Mingus, whose interview discusses the #metoo movement and how intersectionality and transformative justice comprise the basis of her activism (and why yours should too!).
Today's post is not about Thanksgiving, but rather, about the violence and colonialism that indigenous people (especially women and two-spirit folks) have been facing for hundreds of years. My gratitude is not for turkey, but for indigenous remembrance and resistance.
We explore the dark history of the foundations of surgical gynecology and its "father", J. Marion Sims, inventor of the vaginal speculum, who performed experiments on enslaved women without anaesthesia in the mid-1800's, and learn about the ways in which the legacy of racism and sexualization towards black folks has persisted and developed to have a measurable effect on health outcomes.
Today we take a look at Forward Together, an amazing comprehensive activist resource that fights for the rights, recognition, and resources for families everywhere (including non-nuclear families, weird families, anti-families, mamas, trans and gender nonconforming folks, and also mermaids).
This week we (ahem) take a second to reflect on the myriad of ways that you can practice self-care, and review how important it is, especially for marginalized folks, to love and protect ourselves fiercely in a world that does not often leave room for either.
This week focuses on Sonya Renee and the folks over at The Body is Not An Apology, a resource devoted to the idea that no one should have to feel ashamed about their body. There are quite a few articles, workshops, and user submissions across a broad range of experiences, with a focus on the intersectional nature of identity and the belief that the personal is political.
Ever since puberty, I found my body to be a site of shame, something I desperately wanted to escape.
A transplant to predominantly white Catholic schools on Long Island, I was immediately deemed ugly. I had an older sister, but we were close enough in age that we were navigating puberty around the same time. As second-generation daughters of immigrant parents, we were on our own as far as navigating the personal and social meanings of our bodies.