TW: My body is my own

I want to preface this post by saying that this text is not directed at anyone in particular. I wanted to write a reflection on the content I have linked to and add my thoughts on body objectification.
This content might act triggering to some people, so please read with caution.

This post will come to you in two parts and a conclusion.

Part 1. Shaming of women in modern media.  

Contains spoilers for all but one slasher movie I have ever seen.

While I was watching this clip, my attention was drawn to the shaming of women in modern slasher movies. (I call them slasher movies, mainly because I don't find such movies scary or horrifying, so I don't want to call them horror movies.) In these movies, it seems that the general idea when it comes to survival is "Don't have sex and don't be independent". (I won't even get into the idea of "Don't be not-white if you want to live" that is also abundant in this kind of movies. That's a topic for another post.)
All these slasher movies have a few things in common, each very much problematic it it's own right.

First, there's the group dynamic. Most main characters in slasher movies are high school seniors or college freshmen, meaning they are between 17 and 20 years old. Usually you have the Cheerleader, The Jock, the Nerd, the Outcast, and the Journalist/Thespian, for some odd reason gathered in the same place, usually by either some common misfortune or a study group setting.
The Cheerleader and the Jock are always mean and/or stupid and always Caucasian (I am not talking about satire slasher movies here. Scary Movie and the likes are in a category of their own). They're usually dating, and they either die first or end up having sex and then die.
If the Journalist/Thespian is a girl, she'll end up having sex with the Outcast and then she'll die.
The Nerd or the Outcast or both will always survive, and the survivor is almost always a girl who has never had sex. 

Secondly, the killer is almost always either the Nerd, the Outcast, or someone the group as a whole mistreated/killed/pissed off. Sure, the idea of a bullied Nerd or Outcast getting even is something I can kind of get behind, considering my own past, but the idea that the only merit a Nerd or Outcast has in this group is to be either undesirable or a killer or both is problematic on several levels (socially, stereotypically, and ideologically. Ever heard of positive representation, Hollywood?) 

Thirdly, the Killer and the Survivor usually share the common trait of not being stereotypically desirable. They are never ever fat, freckled, or physically disabled, but they don't fit the mold of Show Stopper either. 

Finally, when the boys in the group get killed, it's close to never in connection with their sexual prowess. While the girls can get killed directly after having sex, the boys usually manage some act of heroism or douchebaggery that lands them in the way of the Killer. If the boy dies trying to be a hero, the girl he saved will feel guilty about it. If he's being a douche bag, the one who points it out is immediately put in harms way.


Part 2. Body policing and body objectification.

Recently, I have caught myself policing my own body, and it makes me feel sick to my soul. The thing is, I like my body most of the time. It's a brilliant machine that does all these amazing things that keeps me alive, and I like being alive. I like how my feet look, the shape of my hands, and the color of my hair. I love how my eyes go from brown to green depending on my mood. I love how my boobs look in a bikini and the arch of my neck. I adore my freckles, the curve of my lips, and the shape of my ears.

So why am I so apprehensive about showing off all these parts of me that I love?
Because the objectification and sexism I get subjected to as soon as I show off a part of me that I am proud of, be it my hair, my tattoos, or my cleavage. So many people seem to think that because I am a woman, they have the right to comment on what I wear, how I look, what I eat, and what I do. And I am not alone in getting attacked like this, as this column by B in Mommyish shows.

For a while, I didn't care which parts of me other people saw. I felt that if I did what I could to stay modest, it wasn't my problem if some creep got on all fours and tried to look up the towel at the beach or peeped through my blinds while I was changing after a shower. That later turned into a disregard for my own body, and I stopped being modest around certain people. That has now changed. Not because I want to hide, but because I respect and love myself more. I am in charge of who gets to see my body, no one else. Especially not a woman like this, who thinks that it's other women's job to hide their bodies so that her husband doesn't get tempted.

I am a long time MMORPG player (AtlanticaOnline ftw) and I've heard all kinds of requests and demands over the years. Just the fact that the gaming industry objectify female characters to cater to a male audience, when almost half of the player base consists of female identifying players, is proof that something needs to change.

Conclusion.

I was shocked that I hadn't thought about the shaming in slasher films before, but I was more shocked to notice that people around me don't seem to find any problems with this ideal of a "pure" woman. Why is that only half of the world's population is regarded as being qualified to make decisions about their own body? Why is it that I feel guilty about feeling good in a bikini and also feeling guilty about not wanting to show more?

I believe that, as long as we deny one large part of our society and community the right of body autonomy, we as a whole suffer. As long as women are regarded as objects, we can't stop seeing men as defilers of these sacred objects. As long as we put the responsibility of all sexual encounters on one party, we can't help but to see the other party as savage and volatile. If we teach women how to not get raped or harassed, aren't we telling men that they're unable to control themselves? That they're mindless machines, incapable of common decency?

    “Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belonging to a man - a woman who was ‘one-in-herself’. The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virile. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chastity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus - they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramaic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chastity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched.”
— Monica Sjoo, The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth



DFTBA

The flee market

This past saturday was a really stupid day fo me. I slept poorly, I burneNever again my hand on my coffee, and then I ran to the bus stop, because I was convinced that I would be late for work. Not until I got to the bus station where I transfer busses did I realise that I was an hour early. I started freaking out and raging about, until I just went "Meh" and took the bus to work. A bus in which the STOP signal buttons did not work. I ended up a stop further than I wanted, but that turned out to be a blessing.

Right there, in the central square of Vänersborg, the weekly flee market was setting up. Granted, most sellers were still unpacking, but it was still interesting.

I like flee markets, because you never know what you'll. I rarely find anything interesting, but when I do, it's usually weird, cute, or silly.

This doll kept staring at me.

It always amuses me to look at the things people will bring and try to sell. This particular market was filling up with your basic Old People's Attic stuff - baked goods, old ornaments in porcelain, plastic, and wood, dolls, clothes, records, and furniture. 

I wonder if the sellers made a profit. Potential buyers were gathering and the weather was really nice, so the scene was set for success.

I have tried to sell things at a flee market once, and all I have to say is "Never again." It was just too weird for me. I have great respect for people who have the patience to be flee market sellers, but it's not gor me.

DFTBA

The window to the world

Warning: this post is exceptionally image heavy.

In what is called the culture axis of Vänersborg lies a white brick building. The word "Museum" is engraved into the parapet with gold letters. The heavy wooden double doors are set deeply in a Romanesque archway.

This building is the oldest of its kind in Sweden. It was built in the late 1800's for the sole purpose of being a museum, and it has remained a museum for almost 130 years.

Behind the double doors, visitors are greeted by a beautiful entrance stairway, which opens up into impressively decorated atrium hallway and double staircase in white marble.

The Museum of Vänersborg is known for not showing a lot from the nearby area. Instead, the museum was built to let the regular person "experience awe in the presence of beauty and God's bountiful gifts." 

The museum is also home to Northern Europe's largest collection of South African birds, mostly thanks to this man. 

That's creepy.

Additionally, this museum houses -

- A couple of false mummies

- An impressive collection of porselain

- A reindeer, a moose (I named him Jared) and a previous owner, now in wax.

I am very fortunate to have this layed back job, and I would love to work more. 

For now, though, I am content to relax in this brilliant house filled with history.

DFTBA

The blue quilt

Last year, I started making this quilt from old scrap pieces of fabric I found laying around in my closet. It was around the time when I got diagnosed with stress induced depression and general anxiety and I figured that keeping my hands busy would stop me from biting my nails.

Apparently, I decided to sew myself to the quilt instead...

It worked for a while, and then, as it normally does, something distracted me and I kind of forgot the quilt. So when I made the list of things I want to do this Summer, I added "Make a quilt" without a second thought. I have yet to do more than find the pieces I've already made, though, but I will start on the quilt today.

And before anyone says anything about NO PATTERN, it's intentional. I don't have the patience to make patterns, so I'm pairing fabric pieces that fit together. That's it.

I don't know what else to say about this quilt, so I'll end things here.

DFTBA

Hedgehog's History: Church at the corner of Past and Present

This will be exceptionally image heavy.

I set out from my parents' house, which I am not showing you, on my sad excuse for a bike, which you have here.

And also, be careful about riding a bike with faulty brakes down a stupidly steep road.


At the end of the road, where asphalt turns into gravel and grass, there lies an old church.

The beige stucco walls raise softly from the hill, nestled gently between birch and oak, maple and pine.

The church was officially opened in 1799, and was in continuous use until 1997, when the church was closed due to the danger of the roof collapsing. It was restored in 2005, but is no longer in official use.

As I walked through the cemetery, looking at names of people long since past, I thought of the strangeness of this life of ours.

 
Cemeteries are really odd places. In the ground rest the remains of individuals who no longer talk to us with voices, while in the trees swallows, thrushes, starlings, and pigeons are courting and building nests in order to raise another generation.

"How improbable are WE? How strange, and how lovely, it is to be anything at all." - John Green here

 I am always inspired by contrasts and as I wipe sweat from my forehead and make my way back to my bike, I am inspired by the contrast between the old church and the modern railroad and highway within hear distance. I am curious about how Life and Death walk hand in hand in a cemetery. The nesting of birds and the names of people long since silenced by age.

The last years' Winter storms have caused much destruction, but Nature still finds a way to be attractive.

Even the leg numbing stupidly steep hill back to my parents can't take away from how beauty can be found in destruction.

This is life for me. Life and Death, Destruction and Creation, Past and Present.

DFTBA

Beach house and "A Game of Thrones"

This post will be image heavy.

This past weekend I had a great time, getting silly sunburned while enjoying a great book. Here I could take an idea from John Green and use several authors instead of cursing, but "Anne Rice Tolkien Cassandra Clare sun burn" sounds really weird.

Anywho, I wanted to share some of the amazing things I see from the beach house and the beach. Beach house is kind of a misnomer in this case, because technically, the house isn't on the beach, even though you'll be on the beach in less than a minute if you stumble and roll down the hill.

 

You can't really see the slope because it's behind the big rhododendron. Said rhododendron is really pretty, and has some really funny eye creatures in them.

Aren't they just too cute?

Boy and Dad-in-Law were being Adulty adults and mowed the lawn and cut the hedges, while I was sitting in the sun, reading "A Game of Thrones".

Sitting in the sun for more than 10 minutes at a time is BAD FOR YOU if you're like me and have really fair skin, so don't do it. Even Spf 25 is not enough if you're a freckled nerd like this Hedgehog and never go outside. 

 BE CAREFUL IN THE SUN. You don't want to look like this.

This book was totally worth it, though.

I also kind of accidentally stumbled upon a historic location while wandering around the cliffs that makes up the majority of the beach.

Now there's a parking lot and a trampoline where there once was a steam boat dock. Also, the entire fiord was apparently riddled with sink mines and submarines and military. Well, there's still a military base somewhere along the coast (no idea where it is), but not 1940's military, that I know of.

Other things I saw were 

These cows

 And these cows

 This pretty jelly fish

 This adorable crab

And these rhododendron buds.

Boy managed to commandeer my camera one evening and took this amazing sunset photo. The view is from the patio by the beach house. Looking at the sun setting over the ocean really brings home the beauty of the world for me.