Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Let's All Ruin Childhood

No, I'm not talking about "The Count Censored" (but if you're really in the mood to laugh your ass off at something you watched as a kid, feel free to YouTube that). I'm talking about Halloween.

When I was really little--I'm talking preschool here--I wasn't exactly a huge fan of Halloween. I didn't like trick-or-treating or answering the door because I was afraid of seeing a scary costume. Until I was fifteen I wouldn't trick-or-treat without my dad...and then I only stopped because I went to boarding school and HAD to celebrate Halloween without my dad. I've always been easily scared and trust me, that started early.

But there was one thing I really loved about Halloween, and that was the costumes. I love dressing up. Always have. And for a girl who wanted to be an actress, nothing was more alluring than the prospect of being someone else for a night. Once I got old enough to actually choose my own costumes, I never went for the obvious options. I don't think I ever went as a princess (though one year I did go as a bride)--I wanted to be original. I wanted to have fun. I couldn't just be a witch, I had to be Bellatrix Lestrange. I couldn't just be a fairy, I had to be Tinkerbell, complete with homemade magic wand. I couldn't just be a pirate, I had to be Anamaria (from Pirates of the Caribbean, for anyone who's confused).

My first time trick-or-treating I went as a cat. But not just any cat--a fuzzy pink cat, complete with ridiculously long tail and a hood with cute pink cat ears. And did I mention it was PINK? (Yes, I was a girly-girl. Still am.) There was nothing in the world more comfortable than that costume. And my mother made it--she made a lot of my costumes (cat, gypsy fortuneteller, Dorothy from Wizard of Oz). And when I was older she helped me make them, and helped me put together costumes that you could practically never find pre-packaged, at least not back then--Bellatrix Lestrange, female pirate, Milady de Winter from The Three Musketeers.

Halloween was a family affair back then, too. In fact, my dad would often get into costume with me. The year I was a bride, he threw on a suit and went as the groom. The year I was Christine, he willingly put on a mask and cape and went as the phantom. The year I was Anamaria, he went as Jack Sparrow. I have no doubt that if I'd gone through with my initial plan to be Sally the Rag Doll the year before I went to Interlochen, he'd have gladly been Jack Skellington. We'd even get into the act with music sometimes--the year we went as Phantom and Christine, I brought along a toy keyboard and played the opening notes of "The Phantom of the Opera;" the year we were pirates we sang "Yo Ho A Pirate's Life For Me" at every door.

And the older I got, the more excited I was about Halloween. I slowly learned to fear other trick-or-treaters less, and as I got braver I started to get bolder with my costumes. I think the last year I wore a "light" costume I was an angel. The very next year, I was a pirate. I learned to tap into my dark side a little. It wasn't like I suddenly started goring it up, but I liked stuff with a little more of an edge. (This was my Milady/Bellatrix/Joker phase.)

Here's the thing, though. When I did start going for stuff with more edge, more bite, it wasn't like I started dressing in progressively less clothing to achieve that "edge." I let my character choice--Bellatrix the Death Eater; Joker the Batman villain, Milady the murderess--dictate the edginess of my costume, rather than the amount of supposed sex appeal.

I won't lie--I've always been a skirts girl. I wear skirts at least three or four times a week. And I can count the number of times I've worn pants as part of my Halloween costume on one hand. But when I look back on the majority of the Halloween costumes I chose once I actually was old enough to choose, almost every single one centered around one theme: empowerment.

Think about it. For those of you who have read The Three Musketeers, is there any character in that book who defines "badassery" like Milady de Winter? Yes, she is one of the villains. Yes, she lies, cheats, steals, sedueces, and murders to get what she wants...but the point is that she isn't afraid to do what she has to do. In a time when women were expected to quietly submit to men, she adamantly refuses to do that. She relies on herself and her own talents to achieve her goals and rescue herself, as opposed to Constance (the other major female character), who consistently relies on D'artagnan to save her.

Think about Anamaria--she's the lone female pirate on a boat full of men. Think about Bellatrix--again, she's a villain, but you can't deny she's got serious balls. Think about the Joker--was there ever a better demonstration of How Not To Give A Flying Damn What Anyone Thinks of You?

Even if you go back further, before I went into my "BAMF costumes only" phase. Kay Thompson's Eloise--again, prime example of a character who stays true to herself. Tinker Bell--she has a rep as a Disney princess, but she's got serious attitude. Dorothy Gale, still my favorite costume to this day--she finds herself far from home and is willing to do whatever it takes to get back to her family. Even back then, it was all about strength. It was all about finding a way to say, "Screw you, scary people. I'm stronger than I look. I'm not afraid of you. And even if I am, I'll confront you anyway."

Now here's the difference between my childhood and that of any little girl growing up today. Let's take the Dorothy costume, because that was my favorite (you have no idea how often I wore that thing--before, during, and way after Halloween). I was almost six years old when I wore that costume for Halloween. It was 1998.

This is roughly what my costume looked like:

And THIS is roughly what it would look like if I decided to go as Dorothy today:

Already seeing a bit of an issue here? I am. I once had a Wizard of Oz figure skating costume that was more modest than that thing. (And for anyone who has ever seen a figure skating competition, you know that's saying something.)

But wait. It gets better.

THIS is a child's Dorothy costume that I found when I google-searched images of "child Dorothy costume"--I'm not kidding, this actually exists:


What. The. Hell.

Look, guys, I get the whole thing about slutty costumes

Okay, who am I kidding. I only vaguely understand the slutty costumes thing. The "sluttiest" costume I ever wore was when I went as Angelica Blackbeard last year--and even then I wore long sleeves and leggings under my already fairly-modest costume, because I just wasn't comfortable with walking down the street with my girl friends after dark wearing a skirt that short. (And, for the record, the skirt was definitely not as short as it could have been.)

Now, I will concede that the little girl's Dorothy costume is not as bad as it could be (read: not as bad as the teen girls' one). But think about this for a minute. How old could she possibly be? Ten? Twelve, at the oldest? When I was ten, or even twelve, if I'd tried to get away with that costume, my mom would have none of it. Because at the very heart of the matter, wearing those sexed-up versions of classic characters is about attracting a mate, showing off your body--and who in God's name needs to be doing that while trick-or-treating at age ten?

And to those of you who are reading this and screaming, BUT SEX APPEAL IS TOTALLY ABOUT EMPOWERMENT TOO--no. No, it is not. Not for most people, and certainly not for a fifth-grade girl. Empowerment is about self-confidence and inner strength. Sex appeal is about flaunting your attributes to a potential mate. Is there a point where the two go hand-in-hand? Absolutely; some people (myself included) find self-confidence extremely appealing.

But here's the thing: if that's the case, it's the self-confidence that makes the person in question sexy, and the two feed off each other and are mutually beneficial. On the other hand, if someone with low self-esteem puts on a sexy costume because they don't want to be the only one not wearing a sexy costume, that does not fuel their self-confidence; in many cases it actually lowers it. (Take it from a girl who once tried on a slutty Alice in Wonderland costume to appease her male friends--trust me, I know.) So, yes, sex appeal and self-confidence can be mutually inclusive. But one has to come before the other, and guess which one comes first?

And regardless of whether or not an adult over the age of consent knows how to tap into that power and use their self-confidence to their advantage, no little girl who hasn't even started her period yet should ever feel the pressure to do so.

I'm not trying to be holier-than-thou and I'm not trying to be a stick in the mud. I'm certainly not telling you how to dress for Halloween. If you want to be a sexy crayon, sexy Ghostbuster, sexy Freddy Krueger or hell, even sexy Nemo (though I shudder to think what mastermind came up with THAT idea), feel free. If it's really what you want, I won't judge. In fact, let's make a deal: I won't judge you for your sexed-up versions of my childhood heroes if you don't judge me for my Twisted Belle cosplay, okay?

(Yes, this is my Halloween costume this year. Yes, I'm making it myself. Yes, it is bloody difficult to find a non-slutty Belle costume that I can rip into a million pieces to mimic that costume.)

And I'll also confess that I caved and bought what some people may consider a sexy costume to wear to the Halloween dance, if only because I needed something to wear that 1) I could dance in and 2) wouldn't be tripping over all night. It's a candy-corn fairy witch, complete with stupid hat that won't stay on no matter how creatively I employ bobby pins, and a light-up tulle skirt. HOWEVER. In my defense, it does come down to my knees and COMPLETELY covers my chest. (I swear I'll post a picture--but in the meantime trust me, this costume covers everything that is supposed to be covered, which is certainly more than I can say for most of its fellow witch/fairy "teen" or "adult" costumes.)

But please, Halloween costume manufacturers, I beg you--make some non-sexy costumes for women. Please. It's not that hard. It only takes a few inches of fabric here and there. Make all the feminine-version Sherlock Holmes, Ghostbusters, Jokers, Freddy Kruegers, and Oscar the Grouches you want--but please, please, please stop making every single costume for not only adult women, but now also young girls, scream PLEASE FEEL ME UP.

And older girls, let me make a little proposition. Why don't we try to set a better example? I ask you, would little girls want to wear sexy costumes if it wasn't all they saw us wear? Maybe if we dress with just the tiniest bit more modesty on Halloween, they'll follow our example. Maybe if we demonstrate the difference between empowerment and exhibitionism, they'll grow up with the self-esteem that so many girls in today's world truly need.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Why I care



[Written in response to the people who can't understand why The Vagina Monologues means so much to me.

Dedicated to Eve Ensler, every woman and girl who has ever survived sexual assault, and those who support them, male and female.]


You Will Understand


If I have anything to say about it, yes, you will.
You will understand
that it does not take experiencing rape to hate it.
Why, you ask, do I care?
What is it that attracts me to V-Day
and similar, less-publicly-known causes?
You are human, you should know.
It is not fear, it is not trauma.

It is anger.

It is the stories I hear
that we all hear
from our mothers
and our best friends
and our girlfriends
our classmates, our friends
our aunts, cousins, sisters, grandmothers
our wives, lovers, teachers, even our enemies
all of them, the same thing:
Stories of survival.
It is almost impossible, these days
to meet someone who has not survived rape
or at least knows someone who has.
No, is not fear.
It is the fact, plain and simple
that at any minute, it could be me.
It is the knowledge that there are millions of women
who did not have someone to walk them home.
It is the presence of a new story every day,
either told by my friends
or seen on the news,
of a missing girl or a freshly-located body.
It is the tabloids that exploit those women
using the scandal of their demise to enhance sales.
It is the fashion magazines that prey on us,
the music videos that objectify us,
the celebrities who set impossible standards for us,
the songs that call us sluts,
the movies that make us cry.
It is the people who will call a girl a whore
because she was wearing a short skirt when she was raped.
It is the people in the world
who would see me walk down the street
minding my own business
holding hands with my girlfriend
and only stop themselves from shooting me
because it would land them in jail.
It is the knowledge that in my best friend's home country
women are raped daily for the crime of loving other women.
It is the knowledge that ex-gay conversion therapy exists.
It is the story of Brandon Teena, which always makes me cry.
It is the sight of a six-year-old girl in a halter top.
It is the sound of a teenage girl calling herself fat.
It is the fact that my mother
whenever I call her from the library at night
demands I ask my male best friend to walk me home.
It is the knowledge that she would not make me do this
if I were male and straight.
It is the controversy over abortion law.
It is the comments about "legitimate" rape.
It is the fact that women are taught
"Don't get raped"
because there are men out there
who were not taught, "Don't rape."

It is hope.

It is the knowledge that for every man out there
who would rape me quick as look at me,
there is another man, a friend,
who would walk me home to prevent exactly that.
It is the sound of a famous rapper
saying that women should be respected.
It is the sound of my girlfriend calling me beautiful.
It is me, in my backyard, with my dad
holding his hand as if I am a little girl
and hearing him say that he is proud of me.
It is my best friend telling me he would never hurt a woman.
It is forty women standing in a room, holding hands
waiting to go onstage
and tell the world how they feel about rape
and sexism
and homophobia
and suppresion.
It is those same forty women onstage
standing up to rape--literally.
It is the sound of a woman saying
"Stand up if you are committed to ending sexual violence"
and seeing the entire audience rise.
It is the feeling of my mentor's arms around me
as he tells me he is proud of me for taking a stand.
It is the knowledge that there are good men in the world.
It is the knowledge that there are girls who have sex
and know that it is perfectly okay to do so.
It is the choice I am allowed to make,
about where and when I lose my virginity.
It is my conviction that every woman should have that choice.

If you don't understand now, you never will.
No, I was never subjected to rape...
But what kind of person would I be
if I let that stand in the way of my hatred for it?