JENenergy--Life, Love, God and Other Stuff

A few weeks ago, Emma Watson posed with a ridiculous macrame shawl and nothing else under it. I can't say she looked sexy because she didn't. But what I did say on Facebook, that I felt she was not representing the Feminist world properly and she needed to go back to Hermione, ruffled a bunch of feathers. The feathers were mostly from women who basically told me I know nothing of Feminism. Which isn't true. But several of the people chiming in were white, gay, male friends of mine. Here are these men who have never dealt with issues that only women know about telling ME I don't know Feminism. The thing is, one of these friends later wrote that he LIKED objectification. He would be happy if he was objectified. He doesn't get it. To be objectified means that all the other stuff that you are, every other role you play, everything you consider good about yourself is thrown aside and you become just one thing. In most cases, it means that women become their looks

I  had an incident happen when I was subbing today that has got me thinking. Long story short--I made a girl cry. This sweet kid, and I knew she was sweet, said a rude, sexist thing to a classmate. When I asked a kid to come help me, I said, "I need a boy. I choose you," and pointed to a boy. The girl said, "I don't know if he's a boy." That's when I said: "That is a bullying comment and I won't tolerate it." I probably said it in capital letters. I used my, I'm-not-pissed-but-what-you-just-did-really-wasn't-cool voice. It's not a lovely voice. It's a boy-did-you-blow-it voice. Yes, I used that voice. And she started to cry. Not big, wrenching, red-faced sobs. The head bowed, let-me-fall-in-a-hole crying. Several girls swarmed to comfort her, but no-one shot me any what-a-meanie-you-are looks. They knew I was right. The class, previously bouncing off the walls, went silent. It was a rather poignant moment, if you wan