Saturday night at my gogo dancing job I learned that although drunk white cishet boys are big and threatening, although their eyes are terrifyingly devoid of humanity, their center of gravity is really high and they have no balance to speak of: all it takes is a tiny push from above to send them tumbling.
This same dude came back twice after I pushed him flat on his ass in front of everyone. He never made eye contact, just stared at me with this vacant, predatory look, then drunkenly tried to climb up onto my platform. Twice. I finally got security to take him out, after I had gotten his friends to take him out (thank you, “slutty” girl in this guy’s group of friends who immediately registered that something was wrong and got her friends who we’re arguing with me that he was “fine there” to take him out. That’s what girl solidarity looks like) and he came back anyway.
I’m really glad that I work at a place where I have carte blanche to use as much force as I deem necessary to protect myself, and where security will take me at my word and eject anyone that I tell them to (if they’re around lol), but seriously every night that I work I get more pessimistic about white heterosexual existence— it honestly looks hellish. And while I don’t really call myself a sex worker, since I don’t have any sexual contact with anyone while I’m working and am actually not even performing *for* them in any way, since I get an hourly wage and am not dancing for tips, I do get up close and personal with what it’s like to be categorized as a whore— the anger and entitlement that my existence arouses in drunk young men, and the disdain and jealously I get from young women (only about half of them, though— the other half LOVE me, and those are the ones I use as buffers to protect myself from the pure misogynistic rage directed at me by their male friends).
Anyway, yeah, just a push from above. I wish I had taken this picture five seconds earlier, when he was flat on his back between the two chairs.
My favorite is when straight boys I thought I could trust drunkenly tell me they would fuck me straight.
It’s just my favorite.
Good news! My friend who was there when he said it and talked to him afterward about it thinks he just meant “fuck me straight away” not “fuck me heterosexual!” This makes me feel a lot better about the whole thing.
When I stopped at a crosswalk today this guy pulled up next to me, rolled his window down, and stuck his head out, and at first I was like ‘Oh no street harassment here it comes.’ but then the guy was like “DUDE! LOOK AT THAT HUGE RAINBOW BEHIND YOU.”
The only appropriate thing for a dude to shout at me out a car window.
Surgically Altered Ceramics by Beccy Ridsdel
UK-based artist Beccy Ridsdel creates fun yet strangely macabre interventions where ceramics have been surgically altered to reveal additional layers of detail. Where the metaphor of surgery might normally evoke blood and guts, Ridsdel instead reveals further floral patterns inside bone china plates and cups. The pieces are part of an ongoing examination regarding the perception of ceramics as craft or art. You can see more of her work over on Facebook and she has a few pieces for sale in her shop. (via Slow Art Day)
Can I please be this fierce now?
Beth Ditto is amazing.
You let me know if this hurts…
this is quite possibly the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen
i was gonna stay home but i think i’ll take my ass to the store so i can make this
omg can we make this on tour?????