Why Animals Mean So Much More to Me Than, Say, Michael Vick's Career

"I swear, y'all care more about animals than you do people."

This is the common response I've seen to Michael Vick's situation. In fact, it's the common response to anything wherein animal abuse is brought up, and as happens with most casual brush-off responses to any kind of abuse, it inspires an almost inarticulate rage in me.

It's widely known that animal abuse is unacceptable. Torturing animals is one of three early signs that many serial killers display in childhood (the others being obsession with fire and wetting the bed until a late age). Local news programs have whole segments devoted to animal abuse and showing the victims, burned and discolored and blinded, with their bruises and cuts and sad, limpid eyes. We don't think that it's okay to kick your dog around, but when it comes to the person being punished, nobody seems to think it should be that bad, except for those wackos who "care more about animals than people".

I acknowledge that I'm harder on animal abusers than most. On that note, I am harder on any kind of abuser - child, sexual, elderly, domestic - as to me, abuse of power is something unforgivable. I don't think that there is anything wrong with this line of thinking.

Why? you may ask, or maybe you'd make some comment to the effect of how people must not mean all that much to me, or maybe I'm a crazy cat lady and I'll end up sad and alone in life with my sixty-three cats. This, I assure you, is not the case, and I'll thank you kindly not to tell me how I'll end up in life or what I'm like because if you're condemning me for condemning animal abuse, I don't have much respect for your opinions anyway.

Because, you see, abusing an animal - any animal - is taking the trust that a domestic animal, who has been bred to trust and crave human companionship, places in you; the devotion and love that they automatically give you; taking your role as the sole provider for a domesticated animal in a world civilized by humans; and shattering it so you can prove your dominion, something you never needed to prove anyway.

You are the caregiver of a much smaller creature who cannot do a quarter of the damage you can. You are the provider. You feed, bathe, care for, and protect this creature, who implicitly trusts you. And you take advantage of that implicit trust so you can... what? Kick your dog around? Set your cat on fire? Have people bet on dogfights?

Unforgivable.

And why? So you can feel powerful? Get some extra money? Is there ever an excuse for abuse, any kind, at all?

An animal can not fight back. It can try to defend itself, but as previously mentioned, it cannot fight you back as an equal. You have the upper hand at all times.

Again: unforgivable.

Someone who abuses their animals... well, they're despicable. Abusing the trust of something that gives you untold devotion for simply feeding it? Disgusting. Not so elevated after all, as we humans profess ourselves to be.

Now do you see why I don't care about Michael Vick ever playing again, and if it were up to me he wouldn't?

Why I'm a Feminist (that's right, Virginia, I'm a feminist)

Just so you know, I'm tired.

I'm tired of being told, "Well, if you wear shorts, what do you expect, Dominique?"

I'm tired of being told, "That's the way men are, and if you don't like it cover up."

I'm tired of being told, "Men are stupid, but we just have to live with it."

I'm tired of being told, "That's life."

Really? No.

My friend Errol had a note today on Facebook talking about how girls that bitch and moan about getting stared at by guys or catcalls and whistles walking down the street really secretly want it, and hey, they're the ones dressing that way, so maybe if they stopped they wouldn't get all that crap! But since we know they really want it, they won't, and so dudes, feel free to stare!

Words like "advertising" and "teases" were thrown around in the comments.

Jacob held up a little and got hella criticized. And then I swooped in like the wrath of an avenging deity.

Here's a sampling of my comments and some responses at which point I started writing this post:


Dominique: We're gonna take this point. by. point.

I get catcalls no matter what I'm wearing, be it shorts, tank top, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie... if I walk down the street, chances are some dipshit in a truck is going to honk at me. Yes, Virginia, there is such a thing as sexism, and it is alive and kicking.

I. don't. give. a. fuck. if I am wearing a v-neck or a turtleneck; if I am trying to carry on a conversation with you and you are ogling me, there will be hell to pay. And there frequently is, because guess what? No matter what I wear, when I wear it, I will still get told things like, "nice ass, sweetheart," or, "ooh, girl's got some legs on her." Right now? I'm wearing shorts. Short shorts, to be exact. And I wear them because they are comfy and it's hot outside, not because I'm trying to validate myself through how many men give me unwanted and intrusive stares.

Because that's what it's about. Women do not get appreciative once-overs; we get leers. We don't get glances; we get long hard stares. We hear, "I want a piece of that ass," which is looooovely because it lets us know that that's all we are. If I'm with Jacob and I catch a girl checking him out, it's whatever because I know it's nothing. But if we were out and he saw a guy staring, you'd better believe there'd be shit going down - because *it's not the same*. And I wish it was, and it should be innocent, yes, *but it isn't*, and pretending like it is is bullshit, plain and simple.

(Oh yeah, and my chest does get ogled if I'm wearing a turtleneck, just for context.)

So if I say, "I wish guys would stop checking me out," I mean it, because it's not about the way I dress; it's about the assumption that my body is always there to look at, to touch, to check out, whatever. It isn't. It's mine. And maybe I like my v-necks and my short shorts, without having a man tell me, "baby you lookin' good today." We fix that idea, and I promise we will fix the complaints.

Oh, and I've been called a tease more times than I can remember. yyyyeah.

Errol: no one understands the mind of the Man that oogles girls....I have maybe seen 3 girls in my life time that I would STARE the hell down and NONE of them went to U0fA...lol..

Dominique: PS. If anyone wants to see about how it's not about covering up? Go study Iranian women's lives. Watch them in their chadors and then try and tell me it's about "covering up your assets".

[To Errol:] you poor poor misunderstood man. Try mansplaining to me again, and maybe I'll get it this time.

Errol: different culture

Dominique: Doesn't matter. Same idea, same complex.

Errol: its America, its just the way it is, Certain Men are gonna stare u down no matter what...Others wont pay u attention. IDK Y. We should do a Case study though

No, different Culture different Idea.

Dominique: ...and I'm supposed to accept it and change the way I feel comfortable because of it? No.

http://deepad.livejournal.com/18056.html
for an actual Indian woman's account (yeah, I know, not Iranian, but I love this post). Look, the idea is, in case you didn't catch it the first time: men and women are taught from a very young age that women's bodies belong to men. Boys can look aaaall they want and girls are told to either a.) put up with it, or b.) cover up. Boys aren't told to stop. They aren't told that's intrusive and makes the girl uncomfortable. They're taught it's acceptable. Covering up doesn't help one damn bit, because it doesn't matter what I wear, what deepad (linked) wears, what any woman wears - there will always be men leering and honking and catcalling. I could wear a parka and snow pants and still get whistles. Covering up or changing is not the point.

Errol: well the note doesnt apply to you, but it u dont have to change anything, your no more likely to be ok with men looking at you funny than, Men not doing it and everybody in the world speaking the same language.

And men are told to stop, U talk as if men are raised to be rude. I wasnt taught that and neither was a majority of my friends.

its just life.

Dominique: I'd just like to be something other than my body parts, that's all.

If that's life, then I want something more. I'd rather fight an uphill fight than give up early and let myself be shoved in a tiny corner.


...and then I stared at my computer.

What is wrong with this world, that I have to argue for my freedom to wear the clothes that I like and feel comfortable in? Why are people (usually men) so utterly dismissive of my opinion about these things, despite the cold hard fact that I live this every single day of my life? Why is it that when I dissent, when I stand up and call out loudly that this is wrong, I get shrugged off and ignored?

God, that's even worse than arguing back. Because if you argue back, you're acknowledging me as an equal. You're saying that I have a point worth arguing. This way? It's trying to make me feel silly and unimportant, like I'm making a mountain out of a molehill.

I'm not.

And you know how I know this? Because it happens to me every time I bring it up. I get shrugged off, gently moved aside, and told, "Well, that's life."

I said it before, and I'll say it again: If that's life, then I want something more. I'd rather fight an uphill fight than give up early and let myself be shoved in a tiny corner. It bears repeating, because it's true. I'd rather spend my whole life fighting this kind of bias and mentality than accepting it and having to cage myself and everything I stand for. Can't do it, ladies and gentlemen.

So you know what? I'm a feminist. That's right. And it's my soapbox issue. And if you fuck with me on it, be prepared to be met with plenty of evidence, anecdotes, and just plain facts. I know what I'm talking about. I live this every day. Boys, this is my life, and if you can't accept that or refuse to believe me, then sit the fuck down and shut up, because you clearly don't know what you're talking about or who you're talking to. I'm done with being told to cover up. I'm done with being told to stay quiet. I'm done with being ignored. If you can't deal with my voice, then get the fuck out of my way, because I'm not shutting up for you.

I'm not shutting up for anyone any more.