a man’s thoughts on feminism

Below is a post I read off Tumblr and I thought I should share it as much as I could considering I, like most women, have experienced some form of discrimination. Whether it was intentional or not, it shouldn’t happen. Neither should little boys feel emasculated because they wanna play with dolls or be more creative. It’s unfair to expect men to hold back tears and women to get paid less just because they were born with a different set of organs. Your gender shouldn’t dictate your entire life because it’s such a minute part of who you are.

I hope you’ll find it in your heart to share this too because I’m sure at one point in your life there was woman who mattered to you but even if there wasn’t, you deserve to live in society where we’re more than just our gender. 

“I’m a man.

When I was born my grandfather congratulated my dad for having a son, and thanked my mother for giving my father a son. I got my grandfather’s name.

When I was a child, I could play with LEGO, because “Lego is a boy thing” and that helped my creativity. My ability to solve problems was stimulated.

I got HotWheels car-washes and gas stations. I also got a box of plastic tools, to assemble and disassemble toy cars and trucks. That also stimulated my creativity and developed my logic capability, which is good for every child.

In my school day, the girls wore skirts and my friends lifted their skirts. It was a mess, So they were forbidden to wear skirts. I never saw a boy actually get punished for it though, after all “Boys are just like that. Took after his father this menace” – is what I usually heard

At home, with my family, I liked to play house with a younger cousin. We were around eight. I was the dad, she was the mom and the dolls were our children. While playing, when i carried the dolls in my arms my mother would get mad: “Let go of that doll boy, that’s a girl thing”. And my little cousin’s father, when he saw us playing, wouldn’t let her do it either. He said boys play with boys and girls play with girls because “boys are very stupid, and worse, very forward”. I did not consider myself stupid, and did not understand what he meant by “forward”, but I still did as I was told

At Christmas, my sister got a Barbie and I got a beyblade. She cried a bit because my toy was much cooler than hers, but every year my mother made the same mistake, and got her a doll, a toy stove, a toy fridge, a blender, everything pink, once mom got her an iron

When I turned 15 and started dating, my father bought me some condoms
During my teenage years, no one criticized me for kissing lots of girls. Nowadays, that still stands.

My father does not get mad at me when I don’t come home for the night, He does not say I need to be a “family boy”. He never slapped me in the face for thinking I’d spent the night at a motel.

No one lectures me saying I need to be reserved and play hard to get.
No one judges me when I want to be with a girl and take initiative

No one cares about my clothes; no one says I have to preserve myself.
No one says I have to preserve myself because “women only think about sex”

No one think my girlfriends were only with me for sex.
No one thinks that, when I have sex, that I’m submitting to the wishes of my partner
No one demonizes my orgasms.

I was never judged for carrying condoms in my backpack or in my wallet
I never had to hide my condoms from my parents.

I was never told to marry a virgin because I was a man
I was never told that “men have to value themselves” or that I had to “give myself the respect”. Apparently, my gender already makes me worthy of respect.

When I go out into the streets no one tells me I’m “delicious”
No unknown woman shouts “smoking hot” my way
I can walk down the streets having an ice cream cone at ease, because I know I won’t hear things like “drop that and come suck me”. I can even walk down the streets eating a banana

I never had to cross a street, even though it was out of my way, to avoid a group of women in a bar, who will probably catcall me when I pass, embarrassing me

I never had to walk in sweatpants, because my shorts leave my legs exposed, and that could be dangerous
I never heard someone say I was “shameless” because I went out without a shirt
No one regulates my work out clothes
No one cares about my clothes period.

I was never followed by a woman in a car when I was walking back home

I can catch a crowded subway everyday and surely no woman will rub against me, to record it and throw it on some porn website

No one ever had to create a subway wagon that was “just for men”

I never heard of someone of my gender being raped by a crowd

I can get on a bus by myself in the middle of the night
When I’m not carrying anything valuable, I no longer feel threatened, because I don’t fear getting raped at any moment, at every corner. That risk does not exist in the minds of the people of my gender.

When I go out at night I can wear whatever clothes I want.
If I suffer any kind of violence, no one blames me for being drunk, or for wearing certain clothes
If, one day, I was raped, no one would say it was my fault; that I was somewhere inadequate, that I had on a revealing outfit
No one would try to justify the rape based on my behavior
I would be treated as a VICTIM and that would be it.

No one thinks I’m vulgar because when it’s cold, my nipples show through my shirt

When I have sex with a woman on the first date I practically get a standing ovation. No one calls me a “tramp”, or “easy” or a “whore” because I have casual sex sometimes

99% of porn websites are made to please me and men in general
No one is shocked when I say I watch porn
No one judges me if I say I love sex
No one cares if I read erotic literature
No one is surprised to hear I masturbate

No mother-in-law will tell her daughter not to marry me because I’m not a virgin

No one criticizes me for investing in my career
When I have the same job position as a woman, my salary is never inferior to hers
If I am promoted, no one says it’s because I slept with my boss. People believe in my merit
If I have to travel for work and leave my kids with their mother for a few days no one calls me irresponsible

No one finds it strange that, at thirty years old, I still don’t have kids

No one guesses my sexual orientation based on the length of my hair
When my hair starts to grey, people will find it sexy, not think I’m letting go of myself

Society does not see my virginity as a prize

90% of military services are destined to people of my gender, even the higher jobs, in which the official only deals with paperwork and management

If I go out with a certain outfit no one says I’m “asking for it”

If I’m at a club and a woman performs oral sex on me, I’m not the “whore” or the “tramp”, she is.
If a video of me having sex with a woman gets leaked, no one will call me names, criticize me, stone me. I won’t be the “disgusting little bitch” I won’t be “trash” or “used” or “cheap”. I’d just be the man, fulfilling my alpha guy position in society.
If I lead a promiscuous lifestyle and then fall in love with just one woman, people think its beautiful. No one judges me based on my past.

No one says it’s disgusting if I don’t shave myself

No one would judge me for being a single dad. On the contrary, I’d be seen as a hero.

I’ll never be stopped from occupying a higher position in the Catholic Church for being a man

I was never beaten up for being a man
I was never obligated to do housework for being a man
I never had the obligation to learn how to cook for being a man
No one tells me my place is in the kitchen for being a man

No one says I can’t curse for being a man
No one says I can’t drink for being a man

No one stares at my plate if I put a lot of food in it

No one justifies my foul mood by blaming it on hormones

No one has ever made jokes that undermined my intelligence for being a man

When I sometimes mess up in traffic no one says “It had to be a man”

When I’m polite to a woman she doesn’t automatically assume I’m hitting on her

The term “tramp stamp” did not come into existence because men were seen as cheap

No one treats my body as just a tool for giving pleasure to the opposite sex
No one thinks I’ll have to be submissive to a future wife

I was never judged for drinking beer at table in which I was the only man

I’m never the target audience for house cleaning products ads
I’m the target audience for beer ads

No one’s ever asked me if my girlfriend lets me cut my hair. I cut it when I want to and people understand that.

There isn’t haze at USP (a university) that promotes my humiliation and objectification

Society doesn’t split my gender in “to marry” and “to whore”

When I say “no” no one thinks I’m just playing hard to get. No is no.

I don’t have to dress a certain way to avoid having women falling into temptation

People of my gender were not raped each 40 minutes in São Paulo last year
People of my gender don’t get raped every 12 seconds in Brazil
People of my gender didn’t get raped by a crowd during protests in Egypt

I’m not a man. But if you are, it’s fundamental to admit that society AS A WHOLE needs feminism
Don’t underestimate suffering that you don’t understand.”

Camila Oliveira Dias

christmas SHOPPING

I know most of you are probably done with your Christmas shopping, hoping to avoid all the rush and settling for a day with the family at home. Trust me, that’s my ideal day too but just in case you’re still out and about and hoping to score on the best this season has to offer, invite your friends or in my case my cousins (who tolerate my love for quirky clothes and would endure hours of walking) to come spend a day with you. It makes the tiresome process of shopping more tolerable if not fun.

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Make that headache of a trip a chance to spend time with girl friends.

I know, I know, I know. I doesn’t make the lines shorter or the prices any cheaper but imagine, instead of spending half an hour complaining about the line to yourself, you can catch up with you friends or complain with them. Either way, it’ll be more fun. 🙂

man of my dreams

or should I say MEN of my dreams?

The past few months I decided to rekindle my passion for chronicling my dreams (and I mean real dreams, ones you have when you’re sleeping) on a dream journal. So far I have 3 dreams vivid and interesting enough to be entries. Too bad I haven’t gotten around to buying a journal. For now, I write them down on the nearest piece of paper I could grab and if there’s not one in sight, I type it down relentlessly on my phone.

Then I thought, why not blog about it instead?

The first part of the dream was a mad dash from one place to another. I don’t remember why I was such in a hurry but it must have been really important because I was almost out of breath the whole time. All I remember is sitting with people I don’t know striking up a conversation, asking them what they thought about some pictures. It was dare, one I always do with my friends (when I’m awake obviously). Everything else was a blur until…

I walk into another dream. It was in a huge, modern hall. It reminds me of a school gym only brighter and with better air conditioning. It seems that I was one of the organizers of the event because I was running around, trying to deal with everything. I remember walking up to a friend and discussing some things when someone approached me.

HIM: Hi, I’m Ryan!

ME: Hey, we met right?

HIM: Yup! Last night, you sat with us.

ME: Sorry, sorry, sorry. That was a dare.

I could feel my cheeks turning bright red as I try to stumble the words out of my lips. He’s one of the guys from the table I randomly talked to. UGH! This is embarrassing.

HIM: No, no! Don’t be. It was…uhm…interesting.

ME: Sorry what’s your name again?

HIM: Munchkin.

He smiles and winks. Did I call him that before? I don’t remember but it sounded cute so I let it slide. He reaches out for my hand and shakes it.

HIM: Really nice meeting you.

I’m sure I’ve never met him outside my dream. Does that mean anything? I already forget most of his features but I remember his bright smile and chinky eyes. I don’t even remember why he seems to think we call each other munchkin. Why on earth would I call someone a munchkin? I eat munchkins not use it to call a guy as a term of endearment. Weird, weird but really sweet. 

Then another guy walks up to me and smiles. I remember him from my other dream. He’s friend with the Ryan. He stands right beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders. I tried to stare at him as he rested his head on mine.

ME: Who are we doing this for?

I asked him as I tried to look around the room. I guess I was looking for a jealous ex or a girl he’s currently courting.

HIM: Nobody.

ME: HA-HA! Funny. Joking right?

HIM: No, I just really like you.

I feel flutters in my tummy, ones which feel really tingly but so good at the same time. We stayed that way for some time until a woman called our attention to the stage and asked us to put our heads down and pray.

Pray, really? I thought I was in some conference. I guess dreams don’t always make sense. More importantly, who was that guy? I don’t think I’ve met him before but strangely, he feels familiar like I’ve known him for a long time. He’s really cute and sweet, the guy- next-door type who’s sporting a really short brown hair and sporty yellow shirt. 

I keep wondering what the dream meant. Was it a deep-seated desire, a bleak memory, a peek into the future or just another happy story? I guess I might never know. If ever meet them though, then we’ll have one hell of an intro.

‘Hey! I met you in my dream.’ (Then he’ll say, “Me too.”)