Here’s your first Friday reblog!
I don’t have awful periods, I get some cramps, but they generally go away when I take a pain killer. So, due to the comments about female leaders we’ve been having in the media lately, I think this sentence stood out to me the most “But no one ever suggested that a man who was, say, running for president, could not be trusted because he was prone to chronic migraines.”
Happy Friday! (And happy fourth for those in the US!)
Here’s a question: why the fuck can’t I complain about my period to anyone and everyone? In the filing cabinet of the subtle ways in which sexism shapes our lives, I feel the unofficial ban on talking about your period deserves a folder. Women do talk about their periods, of course; but it seems to me that this only happens with freedom and nonchalance when in the company of exclusively other women. Or at least this has been my experience ever since I first got my period, at the ripe age of 16; every time I mentioned it in front of other people, my sister – always the guardian of what is appropriate and polite – would shoot me a look and sometimes even growl silently at me through her teeth. To this day, when I whine about it on facebook, she leaves messages to the extent of “what am…
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