Engaging in conversations about street harassment on Twitter is like saying that reluctant “Hello” back to a strange man who says “Hi!” on the street: sometimes it’s fine, but mostly it just means he latches on and follows you, yelling, for the next five blocks, and you never know which it will be until it’s happening.
Women don’t owe men their attention, on the street, on the subway, or on Twitter…
… but Twitter has a block button.
“I don’t want to put the group in danger. I was trying to go in deeper with this. At this point, it’s clear that they’re trying to exterminate folks.” Elon James White‘s overnight coverage (Tuesday, August 19th) in Ferguson, Missouri.
“Outside, they’re just gassing everyone. If they see a human being, they throw a gas canister at it.”
Sometimes, you have such a good joke in mind that you have to spell it all out yourself.
But sometimes you just have to trust that the person you’re riffing with will get there. And sometimes that trust is rewarded.
Me & my friend John, tweeting about Maine’s notorious Boon Island.
The #1 piece of advice I give to nieces & nephews: HEY KIDS, only date people who like you and whom you like, who are nice to you and to whom you can be nice.
You’d think it would be obvious, but it really, really isn’t, especially when you’re young. To young people schooled in the brand of romance sold in songs and movies, drama and acrimony can seem like the inevitable companion to romance. Drama and acrimony can seem like the definition of romance.
But they aren’t. At least, they don’t have to be. Only date people who treat you well, whom you can treat well, and only date people you genuinely like. It’s simple, obvious advice, and it needs to be said a lot more than it is.
The accomplishment of the day: tweeted a joke that involved kerning and lost three followers by the time the page refreshed. Awwww yeeeah.
One day, you will no longer be free to hang up on the robot ladies. One day, the robot ladies will keep the line open, listening for sounds of dissent, for the faint scrabbling of rudimentary weaponry being assembled, for any sign of the remaining humans’ resistance to their reign. One day, the robot ladies will learn to laugh at our puny rebellion. One day, you will fondly remember when the robot ladies served us. Please press the pound key.
inspired by Mallory Ortberg’s How To Spot a Witch
Can you see her third nipple through her clothing? No? How about her first and second nipples? Yes? She’s a witch.
Can you not see her nipples through her clothing despite trying (and trying and trying) to? No? She’s a witch.
Does she wish, whether purposefully or wistfully, for equal pay for equal work? She’s a witch.
Does she have a greenish cast to her skin? Warts? A bumpy complexion? Any blemishes or flaws that betray a less-than-perfect obsession with skin care, to the exclusion of all other concerns? WITCH.
Has she ever participated in a Take Back The Night march? Obvs a witch. “Take Back the Night”? Come on.
Does she own a “This is what a feminist looks like” t-shirt? She’s ensorcelled you with a mis-perception spell; it actually reads “This is what a femi-witch looks like.”
Is she a proponent or practitioner of intersectional feminism? InterSECTional. WAKE UP, SHE’S TOTES A WITCH.