America’s Next Bill Clinton!


Pet names, women and feminism …

I bring this up because I’ve noticed that it happens a lot – and also, because I find it very annoying and just plain …rude and stupid.

Not only at bars, but I’ve noticed this in just day-to-day life, too. One can blame it on being from the South, and thus there is a certain vernacular that one follows. I am sorry, for your so-called “culture” is not an excuse for putting women down.

What I am talking about is when men refer to women – and often times the more good-looking ones, as “sugar,” “baby,” “honey,” “hottie,” or whatever. Every one of those terms, with the exception of maybe “honey,” is not acceptable, not even in a relationship.

People have names and ought to be recognized as such. When we give name to something, we give it power. Men who refer to these women in said terms are engaging and recognize them not based on their individuality, but rather, the characteristics that they value women for. Yet, without those characteristics, women are devalued, and reduced to less than a human being.

I find it offensive because it takes away the individuality of women. Rather than seeing women as human beings, those people strip to women down to just their bodies, and nothing else.

Just as it’s politically incorrect to refer to one as “the black dude,” or “the fat chick,” it’s also inappropriate for one to refer to a woman or man (but this often times happens to women) based on their sexualities and their “goodies.” This, essentially makes women look like objects, and vehicles for men’s pleasures, rather than as people. It’s as if to say, “the only reason I am addressing you because you are hot.”

If anyone can appreciate a woman’s body, it’s me. But to be truthful, one can appreciate that without being the owner of it. One can do that without reducing women down to a piece of meat. One can do so without taking away the identities of women.

If it’s true that it’s a matter of convenience for some of these people, why is it that a woman is never referred to as “beautiful mind,” or “smart girl,” or whatever else? Why is it that when women are addressed, it always comes down to their bodies?

It bothers me, and I feel like addressing the issue every time I hear it, especially when it’s a stranger talking to a woman. Although “hottie” and such bother me, “baby” bothers me even more. She is not a baby. She is a grown woman with her own thoughts, dreams and mind.

I remember one time, when I was younger and much more tempermental, I was at Atlanta-Hartsfield International Airport and a steak stand, and some old guy called the woman serving her “baby.”

I was in uniform then, but turned around and gave him a stern warning – anymore of that shit and I’d shove my fist down his throat. He looked at me, said something about the younger generation being rude, and walked away.

There is more to a woman than her body, and she should be referenced as such – preferably by her name. I remember once, when I was briefly seeing a someone who had really big breasts, a friend referred to her as the “big-titted girl.” I almost punched him. Not out of jealousy, but because there was more to her than her breasts.

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If I were a woman …

I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter if I had fuller breasts and long, golden hair that ran out my head, I wouldn’t make a very nice woman.

It doesn’t matter if you give me a uterus, or different sets of chromosomes, or even if you made me smell nicer, or stay cleaner, I wouldn’t make a nice woman.

Hell, give me my own vagina, with its own well-built system of reproduction and centers of pleasure, and I’d still wouldn’t make a very nice woman.

I know this because I know that by the time I am 12 or 13, I will hate men.

I wouldn’t hate them for their biology; I’d hate them for their ways to looking at me.

I’d hate them for their leery eyes and roaming hands – and the way they refer to me, not by my name, but as “hottie,” “sexy,” “babe,” or a myriad of other nicknames used to objectify me.

I would hate them for blaming my anger and attitude on my being “on the rag,” when in fact it is their ways of treating me that makes me angry.

I would hate that they holler at me as I walk down the street. What, should I come over there, drop my pants and jump their bone?

I would hate that if I bring up anything that makes me upset about them, I am being a whiny bitch.

I would hate them for treating me like a princess, but instantly call me a bitch if I were to turn down their sexual advances.

I would hate them for looking at me at a vehicle for their pleasure, and not as my own complete person.

Even in their compliments, I’d hate them for pre-supposing that just because I am a smart girl, that I am unique.

I’d most definitely have trouble trusting them – for I would never knew if one was genuine, or came from a long line of those trying to get in my pants

I would hate them for not knowing what the word “no” means. It doesn’t mean continuing to pursuit me. It doesn’t mean I am playing coy. It means you’re probably a dumbass and I am not interested in you.

I would hate them for roaming at bars, even when I am talking to my friends, trying to break in to our conversations. Leave me alone! I am here with friends!

I would hate the drinks they offer as a way to “break the ice,” as if somehow I am a prostitute and they are buying my time with drinks

I hate them because they control the media and images of me are distorted to be the way THEY see it

I would hate them because images of my body are spread everywhere – some of which are mutilated, as a way to promote their products

I would hate the porn industry. I would hate the pressure they put on me to act “accordingly.”

I would hate that I cannot be myself, but have to compare myself to unrealistic standards.

I would hate the make-up, the shoes and everything else that I need for a job interview just to be successful.

I would hate that I must always be perfect, but perfection is not good enough. I am encouraged to diet more, look better, lose more weight.

I would hate that I am robbed of all that is me – that I am made out to be what the patriarchy wants me to be. I would hate not being my own person.

But, thankfully, I am not a woman. I am a man, full of privileges and free to live my life as I see fit. I am still raging mad.

I am mad that my friends, sisters, loved ones, potential lovers and future daughters are subjected to shit they’d never think of doing to a man.

I am piss-hot the people I love are viewed as objects and not people.

I am upset that most people don’t empathize with the people I love.

But thankfully, I am a man. If a were a woman, I wouldn’t make a very nice one. By 14, I think I’d be in jail for murder.



Can I still be “masculine” and be a feminist?

My apogogies for the lack of posting. I’ve been extremely busy, and extremely sick. I am still kind of walking around in a haze, not having eaten since Tuesday because of this really bad flu … 

Can I be a feminist and still, at the same time, hold on to my masculinity? I mean, if a female feminist can still cling on to her “womanhood” and be a feminist, why can’t I be the same? If a woman can still wear make-up and high heels and be a feminist, why can’t I be masculine and still be a feminist?

I bring this up because lately, I’ve been charged with not being a feminist because I still enjoy male privilege.

The most serious charge is that I still want power – that in having political ambitions, rather than giving up power, I am clinging on and going after power.

But if I am using such power for something good – feminism, why is it so wrong?

So what if I enjoy a good fight? So what if, upon hearing a Navy guy make an anti-women, anti-feminist comment at the bar, and acting like a misogynist objectifying jackass, I challenge him to a fight? Sure, it’s violence; but it’s violence for feminism?

So what if I enjoy the sense of women (sexually or otherwise) or the taste of beer, or that on Sundays, I am watching football? So what if I love the feeling of being able to shoot my M-16 so accurately that i can hit a target 500 meters away? I am still a feminist.

I can still be tender, loving, caring, and I can still stick by my values and convictions.

To be sure, those who accused me of such are 2nd Wavers, those who live in their own worlds, reject what is reality, and just are “radical.”

I like sex, I like beers, I like violence, I like football, and I still speak out on behalf of human and women’s rights.

I still fall in love I still enjoy wooing women, I still enjoy wearing my heart on my sleeve.

I love being the center of attention. I love power. I love being in control.

But I would never harm, objectifying, hurt, or deny women of their humanly rights.

Why am I not a feminist?

A girl I just spoke to told me one can still be masculine and “manly” and be a good person and a feminist and that I am an example of such.

I shouldn’t give a fuck what the 2nd Wave thinks. But I still need to give up male privilege, as it is how we pro-feminist males are supposed to act.

What am I to do? What’s a guy supposed to do? If I give up masculinity, all that’s in me will be gone. I’d be left with no passion, no drive, no ambition. This is not because it’s what defined me as a man, but it’s because it’s who I am.

I want to be a man, but I still want to be a feminist.

Thoughts?