#GameOverGate

Gamergate* is dead.  Indeed, it’s been dead in the water since it began.  I’m not going to cover the genesis, or the long arc of harassment and continued misunderstandings about what words like “ethics“, “games” or “journalism” mean. That, as you can see, has already been extensively covered.

But like a rapidly transmitted virus – say, the flu – the reach of Gamergate went far beyond the borders of the nation of ManCavelandia to find coverage in the mainstream media from the likes of NPR, PBS or the New York Post.  In no particular order, the death of Gamergate:

1) Actually…

No one actually buys the ethics in games journalism defence.  It was a slapdash bandaid applied to a bitter ex’s angry blog rant about a claim of collusion that is provably false. More than a few minutes spent in any of the forums for pro-GG posters show that a) they’re primarily concerned with punishing women who critique the game industry status quo and b) they have no fucking idea what ethics in journalism actually means, since they feel like games coverage shouldn’t be critical or negative of a product when that company also advertises with you.  No, really.

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The smokescreen of ethics probably makes the next point so infuriating.

2) Mainstream media coverage:

In a setting where “fair and balanced” coverage means giving both sides of the story equal play, even if one side is completely ridiculous (looking at you, climate change “debates”), the MSM has been unequivocally critical of Gamergate. New York Times coverage focuses on GG as a movement devoted to silencing feminist critics of games, Forbes ran an article criticizing Intel’s decision in pulling advertising based on the campaign, and big name stations like CNN and the BBC covered the Utah State massacre threats because, well, obviously.

In fact, the only thing GG appears to have been remotely successful at with regards to mainstream media is getting Anita Sarkeesian interviewed on everything, including the Colbert report:

(In a cute piece of irony Alanis would love, most GGers seem to believe this is a coop for the movement because Stephen Colbert argues for boobies in video games.)

3)  Everyone knows it’s about hating women.

Chris Kluwe took basically an enormous verbal dump on Gamergate hydra-like head, and nothing happened. (He made a few people cry, maybe.) Nerd idols like Joss Whedon, Wil Wheaton and Greg Rucka have all spoken against the toxic nature of the movement.  And yet, it’s Anita Sarkeesian, Felicia Day, Zoe Quinn, Brianna Wu – all relative small potatoes, until they got national attention for being targets, anyway – were the ones threatened.  Those threats were widely reported on, which led to a number of reporters looking into men who have criticized GG, and why they weren’t threatened.  Considering this is the media that was hesitant to talk about the Isla Vista shooter’s misogyny, don’t you think that’s a little telling?

4) Games are changing.

Anita covers it a bit in her talk, but the truth is that interdisciplinary programs are gaining ground in universities and colleges, and many media labs and incubators have computer scientists who are artists as well, visual artists who can code, writers who can market.  This isn’t just meant to double-dip and save money, but rather reflect the flexibility and diversity of the world in the people who make games, so that games can grow beyond the linear narrative structures and kill-to-win models that dominate a lot of major game studios’ portfolios.  Sandbox games like Animal Crossing, Tomodachi Life, the Sims, and Fantasy Life are immensely popular, entertaining and fun.  You can’t beat them them.  The only way to win is the satisfaction of enjoying the game while playing it.

Same.

Olaf gets it.

What’s more, you get games like Fold it, where the satisfaction and enjoyment from the game can also be derived from the sense of purpose that succeeding has applicable, real-life benefits.  Check out the latest puzzle, for example, where players need to find a way to bypass a cap on the ebola virus that prevents a cure from binding before the virus can bind to a human host. Terrified of ebola? Be the actual change here.

Gamification has gotten a bad rap because it’s used so poorly in most cases. rewards based systems only work so long as the reward is high enough value for you to press through doing your homework, or chores, or job.  But gamification done well broadens the scope and arena of gaming to be pretty much limitless, which is terrifying for Gamergate.  How can it be a special club if everyone enjoys it?

*not to be confused with gamergates, or reproductively viable worker ants.

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Yes, Virginia, There Is Misogyny (and It Kills Women)

A brief thought exercise for media and people ignoring the fact that UCSB shooter was driven to kill by his hatred of and sense of entitlement towards women (all text taken from the posted manifesto on Scribd; h/t to wehuntedthemammoth for highlighting some of the quotes I used below).  Needless as it may be to say, trigger warning for graphic hatred of women and depictions of violence against them:

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An Island Never Cries: The Enlightenment, Feminism and Loneliness

I’ve been mulling over this idea for a while now, ever since a coworker posted an article about being a “feminist killjoy” (guilty!) and my general sense of consternation and disappointment in feminist communities. In the past I’ve jokingly said I can focus on more than one thing wrong with sexism at once, but lately I’ve been feeling stretched out in too many directions, wondering where all the disconnects came from and what happened to genuine community.

There are many good reasons for a lack of solidarity and community within feminism.  Trans women are understandably leery of the movement since TERFs poisoned the well with their dangerous rhetoric.  Women of colour have often been excluded from, if not experienced downright hostility by, white feminism.  (See the #solidarityisforwhitewomen tweets that @karnythia got rolling late this summer.)  To many women, feminism has always been synonymous with white, middle class cis women.

I can’t remember a time where I didn’t personally identify as feminist.  It’s possible part of it stemmed from the fact that I was (and still am) a contrary asshole, and I was surrounded by sexism, so rebelling against that became important to me.  A lot of my fledgling feelings about women’s rights were crystallized through stuff like volunteering with Scarleteen in my young adult life.

But then in college, I remember picking up a feminist theology book, either edited or written by Mary Daly, and reading it in the tub one night after class.  Before the water had even stopped steaming, I had to put it down, confused.  Not only did it seem intellectually dishonest – reading aspects of modern feminism back into first century Palestine to the point of speculating the magi visiting baby Jesus might have actually been witches – but it was patently wrong in its examinations of gender and sexuality.  (Mary Daly was quite well known for her vicious transphobia, as I later learned.)  I didn’t like the idea of that being what people thought of when I said I was a feminist, and a theologian.  Was Jesus a feminist? No! Would he be a feminist, if he lived today? Probably (or something similar.)  For me, believing and studying the gospel made me feel that social justice is the only acceptable solution; not that social justice should be read backwards in order to rearrange the gospel to suit us.

I began to read more widely and found some really excellent stuff (Jess (Yee) Danforth’s Feminism for Real, for example, and Lauren Chief Elk, who’s currently getting well-deserved accolades for her letter to Eve Ensler). I also found a lot of feminist stuff that made me deeply uncomfortable – male feminist “allies” getting far more air time than the women who said it better before them; a trend towards making feminism fun, sexy and palatable; feminist narratives around choice that implied that… well, Lisa Simpson says it pretty good:

No, no, I was talking about “As a feminist, virtually anything a woman does is empowering.”

Now, I’m pretty sure that the line in the Simpsons is meant to be a rib at exactly that kind of thinking.  Lisa Simpson, while totally amazing, is also only eight years old and she’s a great avatar therefore for subtly jabbing at misguided ideals.  My biggest and most growing uncertainty about my role within feminism as a community lately has been centred mostly around issues of choice and individualism.

It’s important to remember that, historically speaking, concepts of individuality are relatively young.  The Enlightenment was only a few hundred years ago, after all.  It hasn’t been all bad; concepts of individual human rights isn’t something I’m ready to chuck out.  For certain issues – like reproductive choice – the individual is the only person that matters. That’s the kind of thing, in my mind, “your freedom to do whatever you want ends where my body begins” as an ideal was meant for.

Now, forgive me, because this part is ticklish.  But I’m finding myself more and more concerned with certain aspects of feminism where the individual choice is held paramount and therefore, because the individual is a feminist, the choices are therefore also feminist.

Last year, I had the honour of attending the Faculty of Celebrity Studies hosted by Elaine Lui. You can read the whole experience on my post about it, but a lot of the discourse from the audience was about how they had chosen to become stay at home moms, and how mean feminists were for criticizing their choices, and blah blah blah until I got all Mount St Helen and caused a scene.

Look, it should be obvious: can you be a stay at home mom, and a feminist? YES.  Is being a stay at home mom a feminist choice? Well, for one – how do you define what a feminist choice is?  But more importantly, is it even a choice, when it’s typically more practical for a two-income family that a woman stay at home because she earns less? Or that even today, we’re still primarily bombarded with messages of motherhood being the ultimate fulfilment of being a woman?  (Having done some Christmas shopping for my niece recently, with massive difficulties in even finding gifts that weren’t kitchen or baby-doll related, I’d argue it’s even worse than when I was young!)

Or take a recent post at popular blog Shakesville, there’s a post against this article on high heels (which is admittedly, terrible in equating high heels to self-injury, and issues of consent, which redlightpolitics addresses in her storify on white feminists and consent.) This comes on the, pardon the expression, heels of the selfie conflict sparked by Jezebel, which created interesting dialogue about combating male gaze and controlling the photographic narrative.

But the argument that heels are an important feminist decision because they allow women to feel sexy and/or professional, particularly fat women, doesn’t sit right with me either.  Can feminists wear heels? Yeah, for sure.  Is it a way of spitting in the eye of the patriarchy? I don’t know.  I don’t think so.

There shouldn’t be an argument that long-term use of heels, particularly high ones, or heels with narrow toes, do damage to your feet.  There’s no question I’ve seen some seriously hyperbolic rhetoric out there comparing high heels to … idk, burkas and FGM.  That’s bullshit.  Spinning “to wear heels or not to wear heels” as an issue of feminist choice feels bad to me, on a few levels.  One, it feels like we’re gilding the cage.  Heels are necessary, it can be argued, to be seen as professional in the office. Yes. Similar to office dress code rules about cleavage, shaved legs, etc., if you don’t want to be the centre of a shitstorm, you suck it up and follow the code. I don’t feel comfortable spinning that damned if you do, damned if you don’t choice as a feminist act.  We should openly acknowledge it as one of the series of concessions we make in our day to day lives in order to not be in combat 24/7.

I also want to acknowledge that for trans woman, this issue is wrapped up in much more troubling and dangerous narratives about femininity, passing and safety, and I want to be clear that I would never question any woman’s choice about clothing.  Criticizing the practice, and the social history surrounding it is necessary to breaking down the restrictions, though.

There’s been a backlash lately against ironic racism, or ironic sexism, particularly in the comedy world.  If you’re a member of the privileged class, making jokes that sound exactly like racism or sexism, and copping out of it by saying “But I’m not ACTUALLY a racist” is rightly mocked or called out.  Whatever someone’s personal intent is, the audience at large can’t judge it’s truthfulness; only the surface.  Similarly, when a woman wears heels or chooses to stay at home with her kids, there’s no way of knowing at first whether this is a conspicuous choice, or just going with the flow because that’s how life is, or a combination of both.

This does not look like aspic. Some 50s housewife!

This does not look like aspic. Some 50s housewife!

And so on, with sex positivity (sorry, I don’t find vagina-centred feminism very positive, or inclusive, Vagina Monologues)(Eve Ensler’s on everyone’s shit list today!), shaving/waxing/plucking, etc. etc.

Remember the Enlightenment, and me cursing it’s name? (Oh, I haven’t yet? Fuck you, Enlightenment. Eat a butt John Stuart Mill) Here’s where it’s getting me into deep shit. Criticizing the practices has become criticizing the individuals who have made that choice.  Because you’re implying they’re too stupid to not know the societal constraints (They’re not, and I’m not).  Or that you think someone can’t genuinely derive enjoyment from painting their nails or cleaning their house (patently untrue, though I will bemusedly welcome house-cleaning lovers to enjoy my poor cluttered basement if they’re bored).

It’s almost as if the meaning of “the personal is political” has been turned on its head to indicate that personal choices – no matter what they might be – are important political statements.  This is only true if the important political people are recognizing that those personal choices are subversive (and again, in some cases, like abortion, they are!). But when your subversive choices look identical to patriarchal buy-in, then what? The argument then becomes “Well, why aren’t you fighting the patriarchy instead of other feminists?”

The move towards fun sexy feminism has alarmed me in a number of ways. One, we end up with a lot of gross male allies who realize that saying they’re feminist gets them laid. For another, we end up with vitally important concepts like consent being boiled down to “because it gets you laid (and also not charged with rape)”.  Tied into that last link, we also get a bunch of corporate buy-in from Pantene and Dove marketing their beauty care products to women with mildly feminist messages or ideas, which feels alarmingly like point one, only with companies.  Capitalism is anti-thesis to feminism. Shouldn’t we be skeptical?

The problem with skepticism is its lonely.  The moment where you realize you’re a feminist killjoy and you lose all your friends is lonely.  The moment where you realize you’re a feminism killjoy and you don’t even really fit into with a lot of feminist spaces is lonely.  How do we build bridges?  How do people participate in feminism when there are many avenues in which its gone that they don’t agree with, when critiques have become personal jabs rather than a plea to think critically? Is this navel-gazing tome of a blog entry just more of the same? Where do you fit?

For They Were Afraid

I don’t normally make a habit of blogging in the middle of the night, but sometimes an idea grabs you in its teeth and won’t let go until you’ve done something about it. In this case, it’s my relationship to the women of the passion narratives of the gospels.

I can’t, and won’t, make the intellectually fallacious arguments that the bible is in any way feminist or progressive.  It isn’t, and I find most feminist theology tedious and hard to digest.  That doesn’t mean, however, that the stories we do get of women in the bible – particularly the new testament – don’t grab me in a really visceral way. They do – possibly precisely because there is nothing intrinsically feminist about their stories, but rather they mirror my continued struggles with sexism today. In each of the passion stories (save one), despite large theological differences, there is one common thread: the women were the first to know, and the men did not trust them.

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Martha and Mary Magdalene – Carvaggio

Mark 16:

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

In Mark’s version (the earliest attested gospel), three women go to Jesus’ tomb to anoint the body: Mary Magdalene, Mary, mother of James and Salome.  When they find the tomb empty and hear the astonishing words of the angel, they flee. They’re the first to hear of the resurrected Christ, and yet say nothing to anyone.  These are the last words of Mark’s gospel. Obviously, at some point, someone must have cracked, or otherwise Mark’s gospel wouldn’t have been written. All the same, I understand exactly why it was written this way.  How often do women, armed with a powerful truth, keep silent because of fear? I know I’ve done it. I’ve probably done it this week. Fear of being laughed at, fear of being ignored, fear of being disbelieved, fear of silencing, often in very permanent ways. 

Mark has always been my favourite gospel to read, probably because it’s very human. The women at the end have shouldered a heavy burden of grief – they know it, and they’re getting on with their lives, even if it means handling the body of a dear friend, because someone has to do it. They’re not hiding in a locked room somewhere, like Jesus’ male disciples. 

You go on, because you must. I can’t stop myself from seeing misogyny anymore than I can stop myself from blinking. It’s a bad bargain, because when fear stops up your throat and locks your tongue, the truth festers inside until you can’t help but scream it or perish. If you manage to say out loud, “That’s a sexist thing to say,” or “That attitude is hurtful to women,” or even just a flabbergasted, “You fucker, why would you do something like that?” you’re met with resistance. Anger. Fear. Silencing. Worse, you’re met with nothing. No acknowledgment whatsoever that you’ve done anything other than bow your head and go on. Because you must.

Luke 24:

Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

“We know it’s true because a man did it.” Sometimes, as a feminist, you’re so grateful that someone put it into words other men will listen to, you’re willing to forgo the frustration that countless women have attested to it already. Stay silent, because you’re afraid.  Speak up, and they don’t believe you. In the game of he said, she said, he prevails. 

Though Matthew and Luke stem from the same sources (Mark and an unwritten, theorized Q gospel), their passion narratives differ. Matthew’s gospel has a punchier, action-movie feel to it. An angel appears to the women, telling them to tell the others that Jesus will meet them in Galilee. Why, we don’t know, because Jesus himself immediately appears to them, and says the exact same thing. (A big budget picture, this one.) 

The eleven do go to Galilee, where Jesus meets them, as he said, but the consistent flow is lacking. For one, there’s an anti-semetic little interlude where the high priests and elders bribe the soldiery to tell everyone the disciples stole Jesus body “(a)nd this story is still told among the Jews to this day.” Which is darkly funny when you consider that all the passion narratives save this one are about how you can’t believe everything you hear. So while Matthew’s gospel makes no mention one way or another of whether the disciples when to Galilee because they believed the women’s story, or they went because they had nothing to lose, it’s easy to see why the author wanted to avoid conflating the silly, non-Christian Jews who believe any old lie they’re told with the followers of Jesus who believe in the resurrection. From a narrative standpoint, the omission makes sense. From a comparative reading standpoint, it stands out like a sore thumb. It’s entirely possible the disciples just ended up in Galilee independently of anything the women might have said – we don’t know. 

I can’t put my finger on why this version unsettles me. Erasure, perhaps. Every other passion narrative takes such pains to mention, however briefly, the women’s actions and reactions to the empty tomb, that this one rings extra hollow. It’s possible I just really hate Matthew’s gospel. (I do.) Maybe the author’s favourite drum to bang was the rather infamous anti-semitism (this is also the gospel that has the Jewish people claim the blood of Jesus on their heads), it super-ceded the cultural norm of ignoring and erasing women. Not a terribly comforting thought.

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Mary Magdalene at the Tomb (I was unable to find information on the artist of this one. If you know, please tell me!)

John 20:

So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went towards the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb.

 

Peter is a dope, it is known. But similar to the story in Luke, he has to see what Mary said to believe it. And all he really knows is the body is gone. Later:

Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord’; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ 

(Author of John, don’t think I don’t see you reusing Matthew’s wording about the Jews.) Basically, it’s like the author couldn’t decide which to use: Luke’s story where the women are not believed until the men see it for themselves, or Matthew’s where the women ostensibly tell the disciples something, but Jesus takes it into his own hands and appears to them just to make super sure they know it’s true. 

Here’s the craziest thing about all these, and why these stories are keeping me up tonight: this is about someone LITERALLY COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD. The women did not speak because they were afraid, or they were not believed because their story was so flipping crazy-sounding. That’s shitty, in and of itself, but not unusual. But Jesus appears to the men, and they believe and speak in tongues and hug snakes and all sorts of cool things I am given to understand happens after the resurrection.

For us – for me, anyway – we can speak openly about sexism. We can give examples, name facts and statistics, tell our stories. Violence against women can literally happen in front of people – some of the things i have experienced were not without witnesses. It’s not a once in a lifetime occurrence. It happens all the time, in public and in private. Everyone can and should be able to see it, at least once in a while.

And yet.

Somehow, the thought that there still remains violence against women, slurs and sexual harrassment, and disbelief in competence, and wage gaps, and the feminization of poverty, and continued internalization of misogyny BY women is more incredible than someone coming back from the dead is mindblowing. People, good people as well as terrible ones, think this.  It keeps me awake at night.

They did not tell anyone, for they were afraid.  God help me, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to speak up, and I’m afraid to remain silent. 

 

Satire Punches Down. Again.

Look, no one thought Seth MacFarlane hosting the Oscars was going to be good. Oscar hosting is rarely ever good. Putting MacFarlane onstage in a suit is the Oscar equivalent of the youth pastor bringing in electric guitars because “kids like that stuff, right?” In other words, the Academy is full of out of touch, old white dudes and it shows.

You’d think with how much of the bit was scripted that someone would have blown the whistle on paedophilia jokes, or maybe domestic violence jokes. But that’s given out of touch old white dudes a bit too much credit for even remotely being aware of, let alone caring about the problems in making “jokes” like those. Dana at Slate puts an optimistic spin on the night as “defensive anxiety” about the loss of privilege, and she’s right in a way, but that doesn’t negate the fact that people up on stage in front of an audience of millions have zero compunction about airing those anxieties in ways that continue to hurt the people below them.

The crap cherry on the shit sundae was MacFarlane’s implied – and then the Onion’s overt – joke about Quvenzhané Wallis being a c*nt. The sheer amount of bile lodged in your gut to even think about making a statement like that on a public stage must be astounding. Saying it’s reprehensible because she’s a child implies, some people argue, that it’ll be okay when she’s a little older, but I think this is where the whole idea of feminism focusing on sexualisation versus sexism is rearing its head again, a little. By making the conversation about sexualisation, set up as the enemy of morality and family values – just like reproductive and LGBT rights are – we end up feeding back into the patriarchal systems that ‘family values’ represents, with the added bonus of coddling misogyists feelings, because attacking sexism attacks them – sexualisation however is just a problem in society, you know, out there. It also negates the idea that there can ever be something like sex positivity. Sexualisation uplifts only so much as men find value in your sexuality, and then is used to shut you back down again. Within the context of viewing sexism as sexualisation, women find it more and more difficult to find worth in their own sexuality – you’re either a whore, a sell-out to raunch culture, or you’re an uptight prude (but secretly valued).

A corollary: this article about a parent finding a censored version of Game of Thrones, where much of the sexual content has been removed, so they could watch with their daughter.  If you have the stomach to read the comments, most of them criticize the writer for being squeamish about sex, but not about violence.  Very few speak up about the fact that nearly every sex scene in the entire show to date is non-consensual, and therefore, acts of violence in themselves.  Viewing it as sexualisation (ie: scenes to titillate) is setting up the writer as the Upholder of Family Values and the opposition as enlightened, pro-sexuality, though very little about Game of Thrones sex is actually about sex at all. The author even clarifies with an update that the reason he would let his daughter watch a sex-edited, but not violence-edited version of GoT is because someone getting an axe to the head is unequivocally denounced by society, whereas coercion and rape are still very much “grey areas” for pretty much anyone living in a rape culture.

All of this is pretty much a round-about way to say it’s easy to see why grown-ass men feel they can get away with calling a pre-teen black girl a c*nt – it’s a knotty racist mess tied up with the concept of culture as sexualised and not sexist. It’s wrong because she’s a child, yes, but it’s wrong because she’s black too. It’s wrong because she’s a girl in a society that doesn’t value its girls and women.  It’s the same conflation of ugly humanity that led people to divebomb Amandla Stenberg for having the audacity to be black and play a black character. They’re both seen as powerless in so many ways: young, women, black.  It’s utter bullshit and yet people get away with it – I’d wager that racism has undergone a softening of terms as well, couching it under something like racialization? – the same way sexism has.  Remember, it’s JUST AS BAD, if not worse, to call someone a racist or a sexist.

Don’t let language get in the way of calling sexism what it is.  Don’t hesitate to let the Onion know exactly how you feel.  If men are feeling defensively anxious about the loss of their space at the top of the food chain, press the attack and push them down.  Dare I say it, use the power of satire to pull the rugs out from these motherfuckers and let them fall flat on their face.  Satire punches – don’t let them punch us down.

ETA: The Onion makes their apology.

Heart’s Blood, White Ribbons (Trigger warnings for rape)

Whenever I make the statement that while I don’t believe men can be feminists, I do think they have roles to play within feminism, there’s inevitably one or two men (or women!) asking, “Well, like what?”

Guys, here’s your chance.

The White Ribbon campaign is an international awareness movement devoted to stopping violence against women. A lot of their promotional materials are devoted to educating and encouraging men to take up action against men perpetuating violence against women. Before the derailing penny gets laid on the tracks, let’s cover it:

Yes, men get raped too. Their assault is typically perpetuated by other men. Yes, women have committed rape – but they account for less than 2% of all sexual assaults committed, and this includes: statutory rape (teacher/student), abuse of their own children or abuse perpetuated on another woman. So of that already tiny percent, an even smaller percent is female-on-male abuse. Savvy? When I say his/he when talking about rapists, I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass.

Now, I often feel very strongly about violence against women, both for personal reasons and the more lofty goal of, “it’s fucking gross, don’t do that shit”. But whenever it happens within something you consider your community, you get reminded of how very far men have to go in telling each other not to rape.

One of the gold-making bloggers, Alyzande aka Gold Queen has been extremely candid in blogging about her recent experience with violence and rape. (TW for suicide at link.) Because she is a woman on the internet, being honest about her experience, people think this gives them license to be gross dicks about it, judging her or doubting her story.

Protip men: when I said there are things you can do to help feminism, this is a key one. Support survivors of assault. Don’t heap on the victim blaming. If you can’t help yourself from the latter, please kick yourself firmly in the nards.

BUT.

Some WoW bloggers have used this as an opportunity to spread love and support for Alyzande personally, as well as information and education on the international white ribbon campaign. I don’t know who initially made this image, but it’s perfect:

Click the ribbon.  Do one of the things suggested on the site, especially if you’re a guy asking “Okay then, what is my role in feminism?”  This is it. Do this.