#YesAllWomen: Creeps and Crypts and the War on Women

ETA 6/4: Hey, I’ve written a follow-up post!

ETA2 6/4: Since this post was published Crypticon has put together a Code of Conduct prominently displayed on their home page, which is awesome. Thank you again to everyone who reached out, took my concerns seriously, and took immediate action.


 

I went to Crypticon 2014 to be creeped out, not to be creeped on.

Ugh, I sort of hate starting this post off like that, because in many ways I really enjoyed my first time at Crypticon. Elisa and I went primarily to meet the Soska Sisters, the directors of American Mary, a horror movie I highly recommend for people interested in female-centric horror and with a strong stomach. (There’s a graphic sequence of rape and several of graphic gore, surgery, and torture. Fun!) I was hoping to meet Doug Jones too, but timing didn’t work out. But we got to meet the twins, with Elisa dressed as American Mary herself, and they were incredible:

Jen Soska hugging Elisa while Sylvia looks on in GLEE

Believe it or not, these adorable ladies create horrifying yet compelling blood-soaked movies!

Jen Soska, Elisa as Mary Mason, Sylvia Soska.

LOOK HOW FREAKING CUTE THEY ARE THOUGH.

They were sweet, kind, and generous with their time, not to mention eloquent in their panel. Meeting them was inspirational in the best way. Continue reading

Guys Catcall Me On The Street: A regrettably regular series

Women do not owe you their time or conversation, by Tatyana FazlalizadehLeaving Elliott Bay Books tonight after writing, I barely glanced in the direction of a couple of guys sitting on the windowsill outside Nube Green and was greeted with “How you doing, angel?” I ignored them and moved on, still lip-syncing along to whatever was playing in my headphones.

Waiting for the crosswalk outside Julia’s, still listening to music, I was approached by an obviously drunk guy who got juuust inside my personal space bubble* and initiated the following exchange:

Him: [slurred] ‘Scuse me, miss.

Me: Yes?

Him: Do you know this bar?

Me: No, I’ve never been in.

Him: I wanna drink.

Me: Well, it’s worth a shot.

Him: Let’s go.

Crosswalk light: [changes at this instant]

Me: Oh no I have to go home have a good evening bye!

He didn’t get threatening or anything, except for being slightly closer to me than I was comfortable with, but I hope I don’t have to explain why an attempted pick-up line by a drunk on a Wednesday night made me side-eye him pretty hard.

I don’t know why I keep blogging about this crap, except that a) it feels personally useful to keep a record of such things, and b) I seem to know a sufficient number of guys who have had no idea that this goes on regularly to women they know that I hope I can shed some light on the subject.

Nothing gets better if you don’t talk about it, anyway.

If you have a story to tell, you are always welcome here in the comments, or on Hollaback!

*Being five-foot-none tall, my personal bubble is probably a few inches larger than most people’s because if you are very tall and you get close to me, I have to crane my neck to see your face and that is not comfortable. My personal bubble gets even bigger and more rigidly defined when it’s after 9PM in Capitol Hill and I am by myself and you are a visibly drunk guy approaching me. GO FIGURE.

The calculus of femininity (1/3)

Picture of a woman standing on a street at night. She is wearing a vest and tie, a short skirt, and a long... jacket.

~Bummmmm baduhdadum — baduhdaduhdaaaduuuhdum~

Let’s talk about street harassment.

Consider this a content warning for sexual content, strong language, and, of course, men harassing women on the street.

Here’s the post I started two weeks ago:

So I was going to write a post about how much I like sun-dresses; I went for a run on Wednesday and it’s been warm out, and I felt good about myself, and all my pants need to be laundered anyway, so I wore a dress to go to my writing group. Dresses are great! While I am pretty much a shirt + trousers person most of the time, I have a couple of dresses that make me feel really awesome and I really enjoy wearing them, as I was enjoying wearing this one. (I think it really needs a belt, though, otherwise it makes me look a little like a Hobbit wearing a sack. A very flowery sack.)

And then a guy on the street was hassling women.

He was ambling along in front of me. I saw him step out in front of a woman, the way a sports player would step out in front of someone to block them getting to a goal, you know — wide-legged stance, hands out, a lunge as much as anything — and then straightened up again. I had my headphones in, but I could hear him saying something like “Heeeeey!” to her. She smiled at him and kept walking.

Continue reading