“…I’ll admit that many times over the last year when I was feeling too burnt-out from work to produce a really high-quality joke about second-wave feminist ghosts or something, I’d give in to social media’s seductive promise of instant validation, and I’d go for the easy joke about being a sad single lady who likes chocolate and wants a man because: ACK! I told myself I was making these jokes ironically, but the reality was, I was often writing them when I was feeling scared or guilty or angry about things that had nothing to do with being single, but I filtered my emotions through the relationship lens because it was easy. Rather than use those ‘negative’ emotional periods to create raw rough drafts that I would refine when I was feeling more balanced, I acted out in the hopes of getting some sign that my voice mattered.”–Sarah Rainone on what she’s “learned about love after a year alone (and a lot of bad jokes)”
Tag Archives: patriarchy
Claire Vaye Watkins wrote a powerful meditation on pandering, privilege, and the patriarchy for Tin House: “If you like my book I’m grateful. But I remind you that people at the periphery will travel to accept and even love things not made for or toward them: we have been trained to do so our entire lives. I’m not trying to talk anyone out of their readerly response, only to confess to what went on in my mind when I made the book, to assemble an honest inventory of people I have not been writing toward (though I thought I was): women, young women, people of color, the rural poor, the American West, my dead mother.”
From the ages of 11 through 23 I was sick every year on Valentine’s Day. “Allergic to love” was a common theme in the emo anthems that hugged my cassette player on the 7-minute drive from home to school, and it is also a phrase that I believed accurately described me. I was glad to miss out on mandatory classroom Valentine’s Day cards and pink shit. I was glad to miss out on everyone else’s flower deliveries. Last week someone asked me if I had ever been in love, and I just laughed and laughed and they were quiet. “Invented by Hallmark,” “sexist capitalist bullshit,” “just another day whatever,” “I mean how are we defining love anyway.” I celebrated the last few Valentine’s Days on a “self-love” tip, which consisted of overcooking steak and watching Beyoncé videos with a whole bottle of Pinot Noir. Valentine’s Day makes me sick, and not just because I’m a feminist, and not just because I’m alone.
Drink when you check the “single” box. Drink when that makes you feel a way. Drink when Beyoncé says you and means you. Drink when you’re not the girl in the Kay Jewelers commercial. Continue reading