If you rape a prostitute, is it just shoplifting?

Original Sun Times article here.

Mary Mitchell, who seems like she would be my archnemesis, from some of the more uninspired and alarmist soccer mom tweets and articles she puts forth into the world (e.g. her gem of a tweet on July 15, 2015: ow.ly/PFaY7 I like to enjoy art, not be shocked by it.), wrote an opinion piece which posited that a sex worker who was raped at gunpoint shouldn't have been considered a rape victim, at least not on par with a girl who was raped during a home invasion, because she was asking for it. As if there weren't a shortage of cheap-shot jokes about "dead hookers" and shoplifting rape. I attempted to go to the comments to write a response, but there wasn't a field for it.

So, I'll post what I would have written, here:

First, what you MEAN is - Tom Dart waged a war on business transactions that should, for every reason, be perfectly legal. If you can sell your hair and plasma, and rent the space in your uterus for nine months - all legally - there's absolutely no reason someone who may give away sex for free should be banned from the sale of it. This is 2015, the Draconian laws on sex should start reflecting that. Ridiculous.

Second, your analogy fails. If a boxer goes to meet a fellow fighter and that other person ambushes him and beats him to death, you wouldn't suggest that his death is "lesser than" someone who was beaten to death who had never been in a fight. You wouldn't say a firefighter that stepped in to help put out a fire in a restaurant that resulted in something falling from the ceiling and killing him "lesser than" someone who died in a fire in their sleep.

This sort of divisive writing is spurious; it's ACTUALLY a joke. The punchline to rape apologist frat boy jokes ("is it shoplifting if you rape a hooker" hur hur hur). Lazy journalism. Furthermore, Tom Dart and his sex worker war are as pathetic as this piece. Get over it, Chicago. If someone can legally meet someone, have dinner bought for them, receive flowers, and then have sex with their admirer - there's zero reason they can't have a more direct cash transaction and skip the nonsense. Especially WOMEN who denigrate other women who engage in sex for pay seem like they're jealous they've had to give sex away all these years. Must be because I have no interest in it that my attitude is "treat all sex workers as people, perhaps they'll be seen as such by society, and they'll stop ending up face-down in ditches with bullet holes in their heads."

You're GRATEFUL that he wasn't charged with "snatching" an "innocent" woman off the street? How sick are you? This woman was RAPED at GUNPOINT and you're reserving judgment of HER rather than her attacker? It's at this point that the phrase "rape culture" seems especially poignant when you'd rather demonize a VICTIM than her ATTACKER. Get some psychological help re: your unresolved issues with women being able to turn a profit on sex. And until then, do yourself and everyone else a favor and don't write about it. Embarrassing.  

Hopefully I'll live to see an age where sex workers can engage in legal business enterprise in Chicago. If you look at it neutrally, their service is ONLY beneficial. It isn't even akin to drugs, where one can make the argument that their usage is harmful and addiction is crippling. It's sex. When paid for, at least it's satisfying. At most, it's therapeutic. That women are legally compelled to give all sex away for free that they engage in, is borderline fascism. It's bad enough they aren't allowed full reproductive freedom, at least legalize the commercial utility of their vagina.

And I'm going to say something, now. By the end of the article, the reader is propositioned FOUR TIMES to "follow" Mary Mitchell.

Would it really be stalking if someone followed you to your house and pointed a gun in your face?

I mean, you were asking for it.

Hookin' Ain't Easy.

At 19:56, Thaddeus Russell starts discussing prostitutes. Here I begin to realize something: it strikes me as strange that sex workers are considered "lower class" by most american women, either as a "last resort" profession, or a "pre-med profession" - either way at the expense of (or a prelude to) doing something "more worthwhile"... but historically prostitutes and brothel-owning women were walking firecrackers who would kick anyone's ass that tried to hold them to an unfair moral standard. The idea that a woman who owned herself and her body could make a profit from the products or services involving it was revolutionary. These brave women endured such hardship and turmoil, and now people have the audacity to trivialize their role in the turn of history in favor of women. I find it supremely ironic when women who dress in a revealing fashion (cleavage everywhere and short everything) will complain about prostitutes taking the "easy" job - and they're being "just whores." These hypocritical ladies, too, capitalize on their body's attributes - but do not charge a premium for it, and then dog the wise ladies who do make such a decision. I am not personally a prostitute, if you're wondering, I choose to be in a monogamous relationship with my husband - but I come from two generations of "street-walkers" on one side of my family and never understood the stigma. I've worked for and been involved with both the NCSF and SWOP-Chicago. I have written scathing articles about the johns registry in Chicago, and I've worked extensively with sex workers to try to ease up some of the unfair treatment they suffer at the hands of "well-meaning" law enforcement (who do more harm than good). In the end, if you are a consenting adult and someone wishes to buy a sexual experience from you, that is nobody's business but the two people in the transaction, and nobody should say anything about it. Period!

Maybe My Grandkids Will Appreciate Me!

WARNING: This may sound judgmental, but that's because I'm a bit miffed about it.

If you've ever felt like an outcast in a mommy circle, welcome to my life. Here's where I am situated in an outdoor picnic gathering: I make the rounds, saying hello and introducing myself, noticing that half of the moms are either staring at my nose ring, or trying to fathom my eclectically bohemian-inspired fashion choices. The ones who aren't, are being helpful and offering my daughter a burger, to which she loudly inquires "IS THAT REAL MEAT? I'M A VEGETARIAN!" and proceeds to stare down all the omnivores with the fervent judging eyes of a PETA volunteer (which I maintain isn't my fault, since I don't do that!). Between glares, my darling progeny is forcibly introducing herself to the inevitably shy children with whom she shares toys. It's mandatory that they report their names or Officer Dahlia will find ways of making them talk. I encourage her to give them personal space.

It is at this point a few women start to complain about their husbands. My husband isn't someone I complain about. He's pretty rad, and there isn't an obvious gender divide between us. I spent most of my adult life identifying as a lesbian, so if I can keep the company of a man (let alone marry him, though he did partially take my last name) without smashing him like he's the embodiment of the patriarchy, he has to be pretty awesome. We have similar political ideologies, we're both fringe weirdos, we both like each other. No problem, in that regard. Then conversation will shift to the relief the mothers feel that they can get things done while the kids are in school. Where does Dahlia go to school? I manage to finish the word "homeschool" and there are either audible gasps or tentative "ohs." The quantification questions flood in a cacophonous din for ten minutes. Does my daughter know the alphabet? Actually, she can read. Does my daughter interact with other kids? She's taken all kinds of classes, from Ballet to Mandarin, and those classes happen to be populated with other miniature humans. Does it drive me crazy that she doesn't "go away" for a while? No, I like the fact that she's around me a lot, however, I don't require that she be by my side, always. By the time these evaluation questions die down, I've already felt a palpable tension about my lifestyle choices.

There will be a new issue for the moms to focus on; why Shrek is inappropriate for children under 13, how their children need a good "swat on the behind" once in a while, the latest boycott on onemillionmoms.com, and a slew of other things I inherently disagree with. Dahlia's seen Shrek. Hell, she's seen the original Batman in all its Michael Keaton glory. She liked that film, and has watched it many times since. My parents took me to the midnight showing of Bram Stoker's Dracula when I was 6 years old, and I don't have prolonged nightmares about it. As for spanking kids, I volunteer with a well known coalition dedicated to freedom of sexual expression, so where I come from, corporal punishment is only okay to use on consenting adults. I view those one million moms as one million nosy crazies who have nothing better to do than make the world unlivable, unbearable, and frankly, awful. Children will survive beyond the harrowing psychological torture imparted upon them by video games, television, and banned books. As a bonus, if you keep a sense of humor about life, your child will grow up without a damaging sensitivity bubble that keeps them from taking risks, exploring the world, and talking to strangers.

If you, dear reader, are cringing from my words, chances are you're one of the moms who will never ask to connect with me on Facebook, deliberately taking other people out of the mommy circle to get their contact information, while looking over your shoulder to check that I'm not eating your heirs. I'm the stuff your nightmares are made of, THAT MOM who only exists to serve as a warning to others (Did you hear Dahlia coslept until she was FIVE?!), but my kid is so amazingly awesome it hurts, and I'm okay with infiltrating your REM cycles.

If you're laughing, we'll be friends forever.

My Dissident Take on 4th of July: I like it!

Whereas most people I know who espouse similar beliefs to mine hate Independence Day, I think bloody revolutions of yore are exciting celebration fodder. For the same reason I love Bastille Day, I love the 4th of July! Dahlia and I adore fireworks and basically any explosion fathomable. We sit in awe, slackjawed, squealing YAY! and other ridiculousness. But we love that crazy stuff. Jack Kerouac's oft-overquoted sentiment sums it up:

So, it's obvious we love fireworks. And revolutions. But people who disagree offer the following: "well it established the State," "but this fucking country is so Imperialist," and "All this flag-waving patriotism bullshit sucks!"

True, it established the modern incarnation of the State (ish), but not /technically/ until the Articles of Confederation were ratified, in 1781, so there was a window there where there was no formal established federal government (and we didn't explode, anarchy *is* possible) - which is amazing.




Yeah the country's Imperialist, that's a result of having a State. It didn't HAVE to happen, but it did. <sarcasm> There wasn't Twitter back then, guys! </sarcasm> Wait, that’s only half-sarcastic. If we would have had technological infrastructure, we probably could have built a free society. The fact that a community of people who owned private property could still relay information about safety, dangers in products or neighborhoods, education, and other things would have been all the trappings of a capitalist-friendly society, or maybe even a communal one, and the Constitution wouldn’t have been written to “protect” us from the State. My relationship with the Constitution is a strange one, on the one hand I’m glad there’s a vague manual for What the Government Can’t Do (Other Than When We Shit on That) – and on the other hand it gives this illusion of freedom, under which pretense Americans don’t question the nature of the Authority they’re subject to.



Which brings me to my next point, the flag-waving patriotism and nationalism of "God Bless Our Divinely Mandated Country" is ridiculous. Throw away your flags, burn them, do whatever you need to do. In fact, my sentiment is summed up beautifully by none other than Howard Zinn: https://www.commondreams.org/view/2010/07/02-11. But there's no accounting for taste, it’s not the bloody revolution’s fault that the majority of mouthy Murican patriots are flag-waving idiots who couldn’t identify political theory if it bit them in their (m)asses. Who support mass murder, imperialism, oppression, violence, and all kinds of nonsense. Patriotism?


The actual act of revolution, how beautiful a concept, to overthrow an established order. ♥
And it’s always fun to blow shit up. Practice your Molotov cocktails. Prepare for another revolution!
You never know when you’ll be faced with freedom. 

Birthing a Radical: Anarchy and Parenting.

Occasionally, I feel the word "different" was invented to describe me. Even within typical outsider circles, I don't feel like I belong. Despite the fact that I've never really fit in neatly anywhere, I never bothered to be bothered by this fact.

Until my daughter was born. Then all the weirdness and unorthodoxy and eccentricity seemed to pile up and crush me under their combined weight.

I've been a vegetarian since I was a teenager. This never caused me any grief, but when it came time to start raising my daughter, I was bombarded with alarmist reactivity regarding the idea that I would DEPRIVE my DARLING DAUGHTER of the infinite meat-eating possibilities of life. Because of me, she would only grow to half-size, her IQ would be so low you couldn't register it on a chart, and she'd immediately vomit upon her first taste of rebelliously-procured meat products (in puberty). And how dare I do that to her? Easily. I sleep well at night knowing I'm such an awful person that I'd opt out of the factory farmed, antibiotic-laden, hormone-infested, carcinogenic junk-trap that is omnivorous food consumption. Not to mention the many animals whose demand for death was not made by my family. I'm pretty cool with that.

I've been an anarchist for most of my life. Now, possible misconceptions of anarchism aside, I've been through a very real schism from the rest of this community. Most anarchists identify as libertarian socialists or anarcho-communists. Ideologically, these kinds of anarchists intentionally separate themselves from anarcho-capitalists, whom they say are not "really" anarchists because they support the power structure dynamics of a hierarchical system. How dare they! Well, guess who thinks currency and jobs and companies and the free market and civil liberties and autonomy are awesome? Me. That makes me an anarcho-capitalist. Even in the subset to which I belong, I still disagree with many of the proponents. For example, I would probably enjoy bitchslapping Ron Paul. I think "can't stand" and Ayn Rand rhyme for valid reasons. Beyond this disagreement, many anarchists hate the fact that I've procreated. As if perpetuating the species with a child that has a higher-than-average chance of being an anarchist, I've somehow betrayed the most integral tenet of anarchism. I believe that parenting my daughter in such a way that teaches her the responsibility of autonomy and self-efficacy will be the thing that defines her life as she makes her way toward adulthood. She's only six now, but it's never too early to start.

Which brings me to my next problem. Er, point. Yeah, my next point. So, I teach my daughter autonomy and making responsible decisions. This means that I enable her to do things that would give most parents of similar-aged kids a heart attack. She uses the stove, cuts with santoku knives, plays barefoot outside if she wants, snacks if she's hungry, and she is a huge player in her own educational decisions. How do I manage these? Easily. I taught her how to use the stove responsibly, and I supervise when she uses it (for now). I taught her how to use a santoku knife (and scissors and lighters) so that she doesn't have to wonder about it, and I don't stress about her being barefoot or eating between meals. She's average height, on the thin side, and is so energetic I constantly joke with strangers that she's "powered by vegetables." I homeschool her, and she weighs in on how her lesson plans go.

Oh, I homeschool her! I must be religious, right?! Nope. All atheist, all the time. Which brings me to another issue: even within the minority homeschool community, I am still a black sheep. Foregoing the Bible in favor of Cosmos is seen as a Hellfire and brimstone transgression to many of the homeschoolers in my country. But, here's the thing... I don't homeschool my daughter to shelter her, I homeschool her to help her learn to think for herself. I don't want her to go through school with a blindly-patriotic, pro-'MURICAN slant. I want her to learn "just the facts, ma'am" and she can come to her own conclusions about them. P.S. If you think this isn't a problem, think of the way you learned about Thanksgiving in elementary school. Was there a table of brotherhood? A nicey-nice sit down meal where they all thanked the same Christian god? Cough. Many of the things we learn as children, we have to re-learn REALISTICALLY when we hit college (or HS if we're lucky).

So, that's a portion of me in a nutshell. And what I've told you isn't even the "worst" of it. But instead of these things making me feel angry or divided from humanity, I use it as an object lesson to teach my daughter all about the beauty, diversity, and infinite wonder of the world. I am allowed to have these differences and they won't be the death of me, as they may be in some other places. I can speak out against perceived injustice and I won't be immediately executed. She can live comfortably as a vegetarian without starving to death. My husband can pursue his medical school studies without being denied entrance due to caste issues. Because of our differences, she can experience an amazing variety of things, in life. The majority of her dinners are borrowed from another culture. I have major wanderlust so we travel across the country fairly regularly. She gets to see how all kinds of people live, and she is always a part of their festivals and events. We watch strange independent films about clowns and fairies, funky documentaries about spirituality, listen to oud and gamelan music, read stories from greco-roman mythology and amazing old classics, she has frequent exposure to all kinds of international art history. She's diversity-sensitive because she grew up with a throng of drag queens, queer artists, transsexual activists, performers, and strange birds. She's always curious, and I'm always willing to teach her more or help her find information. I named her after Salvador Dali and Roald Dahl. Her name is Dahlia. She's going to end up a name in your household someday. She is love.

Thought Catalog is pretty Separatist.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2013/5-things-that-girls-are-not-allowed-to-have-an-opinion-on/

1. I don't watch sports, I play them. My husband doesn't watch OR play them. Averse.
2. My husband hates war even more than I do.
3. My husband is more understanding to the plights of women than I am. He once described menstruation as "a beautiful process" that he's "fully comfortable with." Sometimes I'm like "uhghhhghghgh, I'm bleeding out of my baby hooooole, waaaah." Did I mention he washes my moon cup for me? That's love, if nothing else.
4. I don't drool over dudes, by and large. If I ever have (see: EDDIE VEDDER) he laughs about it.
5. My husband is an anarchist, as I am, and we both dislike Obama equally. You'd have to believe in the presidency as a valid thing to be concerned about whether or not someone was born in American territory.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2013/5-things-men-are-not-allowed-to-have-an-opinion-on/

1. My husband's opinion on abortion is that if someone doesn't have a uterus, they also don't have an opinion on abortion, since they can't get one. Same with gay marriage, human rights, etc.
2. My husband's opinion on who women sleep with, even my past sexual history, is none of his business. But I tell him anyway, just so there isn't a gap between what's happened and what he knows.
3. My husband's opinion is that I am always beautiful, with or without makeup, but he sees less of my face when I'm wearing makeup, so he prefers au naturelle.
4. See above: #3 Girls Section
5. My husband isn't really interested in spreading bullshit about how women are all beautiful just the way they are, etc. He's a bit more honest than that.

Can we talk about how there isn't a male/female brain divide, in real life? TED talk about how male/female brain division is stupid.

Confession: I'm Scared of Soccer Moms.

Okay, I'm pulling a journalism tactic... using sensational headlines to garner attention to the story. I'm not actually soccer-mom-phobic (in fact, I know some soccer moms who are really weird/cool/nice), but often when I take Dahlia to her classes, I look around and become instantly apprehensive. It's not necessarily that I'm worried the other mothers will be vicious toward me, but the conversations I hear them engaging in are truly scary. That, coupled with my discovery of onemillionmoms.com, isn't doing well to soothe my growing worry that soccer moms are the real problem tearing at the moral fabric of society.

Censorship. I am very against censorship. On the radio, on the television, in the media. Anywhere. I don't believe there should be BLEEPS or BARS or anything that hides truth from children. That said, I /also/ do not believe that children should be exposed to certain things before their time. Does this sound contradictory? It should, until I add that personal responsibility should factor in. Parents should monitor what their kids are watching/listening to/doing, and have open dialogue about the things that are appropriate and not appropriate for their age levels. To say "Mary, this song is not appropriate, it sends a bad message and uses language we don't welcome in this house" is a lot better than hearing "f...ck" "b...ch" and "sh...t" all over the TV and radio. As if kids don't know what they're saying? Really? Does America think kids are stupid? If a show isn't "family appropriate" or if it's "full of filth" - don't watch it. Don't ruin it for the rest of us by needing things "a certain way" before they even reach your eyeballs. Use your own brain, don't try to make it so the rest of us can't use ours when we want to.

In my family, we discuss the merits of swear words. Dahlia doesn't use them, and if she hears you using them, chances are she'll tell you "that's inappropriate language." She used to say "that's a bad word" until I reinforced "there are no bad words, only words that are not socially acceptable in public settings." If you really get down to it, the only differences between "FUCK" and "FUNK" are one letter and a connotation. They're both words, both used, both elicit different reactions based on where they're said. Fuck isn't a word that will physically harm someone; it can't move out of the realm of idea and into your life, invading your house and stealing your children. It's a word. Don't give it a bad meaning, and it won't have one. We don't need to run from swear words. That's silly.

As for naked people/sex: they will encounter sex somewhere, and when they do a simple explanation about procreation and love or desires will suffice. Keep it simple. I don't think children should be censored from nudity in general, however. We were all born naked and we would still be naked if it weren't 1. illegal, 2. pseudo-shameful and 3. impractical, what with weather and erosion. Dahlia knows what a penis is, that it's a male counterpart genital to her own, and that it vaguely has some uses (urination, mainly). We don't use funny euphemisms, such as "potty" or "firehose" - we're anatomically correct. All that sugarcoating nonsense does nothing but make the already-difficult sex/puberty talk into a really complex web of deceit and discomfort. Doesn't need to be that bad!

Violence is another thing I've heard soccer moms discuss. Kids who are sheltered from violence generally experience one of two problems: they'll either get a VERY rude awakening when they're old enough to be aware of violence in life - or they'll become violent little jerks because the act of violence is forbidden. Anytime you forbid children from things, it instantly becomes more appetizing to them, unless you do so in such a manner where consequences are fully explained or felt (and sometimes in an abrupt, unpleasant way, such as when they reach for a hot stove).

Homosexuality. If you think the idea of explaining to your child why two men are married is scary, I think you need to move out of the suburbs. I've had to explain all kinds of strange things to my daughter, including gender reassignment surgery (I have lots of transsexual friends), why she doesn't have two mommies anymore (when my female partner of several years and I parted ways), non-monogamy (in sexless terms, using love as the bond), drag queens (I do makeup for them), schizophrenia (my closest cousin was diagnosed a few years ago), Marilyn Manson (she happened on a picture and asked), and drugs (thanks, Intervention - and people I've lost to addiction). Two dudes kissing? Not that bad. They're in love, they're both men, and that's that. Some women love other women. Some people love both. You're not going to make your child homosexual by telling them the truth about gay people any more than telling them about serial killers will make them the next Gacy. If you're not worried that educating your children against stranger danger will make them grow up to be kidnapping child-murderers, don't worry about mentioning that some women have wives.

Religion. Yes, I understand that childbirth is a wonderful, life-changing event full of things that seem to be absolute miracles. The fact that you've harbored a tiny spawn inside your body for approximately 3/4 of a year and then expelled them through your vaginal canal, then they grow massively in the next few years - forming their own identity, becoming real creatures, seems like nothing short of a religious experience. I also understand that having children is scary, and any misstep along the way seems to potentially carry treacherous consequences for all involved. However, the end result of this should not be a turn to religious zealotry or fundie-style fanatical adherence to imaginary deities and doctrines. Praying won't keep your son from scraping his knee. Following the biblical advice to not "spare the rod" will probably just make them angry bastards. Love your child rationally, anxiously, and if you want to cover yourself in bullshit - don't try to spread it all over others. Onemillionmoms.com seems to follow biblical law... and they use it to hose their giant crock of shit across the nation. We're more afraid of you than you are of us, onemillioners.

Conversation.  I have never heard worse conversation than that which occurs, and may I add painfully, between soccer moms. All that husband-complaining, disappointment about lack of appreciation, martyrdom, old wives' tale regaling, stress from children, overworked vacationless lives, sad/unappealing/awful things they have to wade through on a daily basis before they collapse from exhaustion... makes me dizzy. And sad. Are we not allowed to have lives outside of our children? Are we not capable of formulating a conversation based on our mutual love of literature/fascinating fetishes/music/Alan Rickman without it becoming a cautionary tale about ruined lives (because they weren't censored, of course)? Why is "date night" even a thing? When we, as women, become hollow shells of our former selves, we're doing a grave disservice to ourselves, our partners, and most of all - our children. Yes, our babies are the most important loves of our lives - but we should benefit from becoming mothers, not suffer endlessly as a result of their existence. If it sucks so bad, hire a babysitter. If you say you can't afford a babysitter, drop the starbucks/acrylic nails/world's most expensive SUV, save the extra $100/week, and by some magical sorcery... you'll be able to. Life? Revitalized. If you're already a woman of the Ultra-Sparse School of Frugality, child-share (one night a week you take someone's kids and your own, then they'll take your kids and theirs another night, etc), moms' night out, enlist relatives, send them to a sleepover. And as for your partner, if you have one, don't dress like a skeeze, drop the mom jeans, pull down the messy bun, and get busy like you've never seen a kid in your life.  Partner will thank you, kids will thank you, life will thank you. Also, it doesn't hurt to read the news once in a while (and I'm not referring to Circle of Moms news, either).

In a nutshell, I think soccermomitis is something that should start to disappear from school hallways, sex offender registries (stalking is unhealthy and knowing where they live won't help), outside of abortion clinics (leave the poor girls alone, you know you considered it during your first pregnancy scare), and anywhere else they tend to congregate and spread. Stop trying to make the world less fun for everyone else, and start to live a little. It'll be okay, I promise.