#YesAllWomen

If you know me, even slightly, you're probably aware that I am a God fearing, right wing, Conservative. I, by no means, would ever consider myself to be a feminist. Not even a little bit. But, with that being said, even though I might not be a feminist, I am still a woman. A girl, really. A 19-going-on-20 year old college student.

The hashtag #YesAllWomen has recently exploded across social media, following a shooting at UCSB. Men across the nation, including friends of mine, have been in uproar over the generalization of the male population portrayed by this trend. I'll be the first to admit that I see where they are coming from, but at the same time?

I wholeheartedly believe in the mission of the #YesAllWomen movement, and here is why. Coming from a woman who is not a feminist, a "man hater," an "oppressed minority." Just a small-town girl living in a big city, trying to find her way in the world.

#YesAllWomen because...

I'm afraid to walk outside alone at night.

I am constantly patronized by men. Whether about my strength, intelligence, or abilities.

I am not "asking for it," when I wear a sundress, shorts, or a low-cut top.

By asking people to not use "rape" out of context, I am constantly told that I take things too seriously. 

My drink being drugged is a legitimate concern.
And not just by setting it down, horror stories have me afraid of even the bartender.

I don't take the stairs in parking garages when I am alone.

Society has made it an acceptable saying that "No means yes."

"No" should be the end of discussion, not the beginning.

I can't mention wanting to travel abroad without being reminded that I'm "a pretty, young blonde American." so I shouldn't, because that is dangerous. 

I was taught how to hold my keys when walking alone.

The number of Facebook posts I am shared about how to protect myself in the city.

I have been told women are meant to be seen, and not heard.
And that their place is in the kitchen, not the court room.

Of the stares I get as a female, walking into the free weight section of the gym.

I am judged for crossing the street to avoid a stranger, because he "isn't like that."

Even Satan needs consent to enter someone's body. 

Going on a date with someone doesn't mean I owe them anything. That's called prostitution.

A girl in my college town was sexually assaulted and videotaped, then given a gag order so she did not "ruin her attackers lives."

Women around the world are being killed, assaulted, mistreated every single day simply because they are women.

Of the double-standard between men and women when it comes to sex.
She is a harlot and he is praised.

"Blurred Lines" is as popular as it is.

Men feel no qualms about being homophobic and bigoted toward homosexuals, when they are simply feeling how women feel every single day.

1 in 4 women will be the victim of domestic violence in their lifetime.

I should be able to go out in public without the fear of being groped on the subway.

I completely agree that "Not all men are like that."
But too many of these things have happened to me to not feel that there are enough.

This is happening everyday. Everywhere. It is happening to your mothers, your daughters, your sisters, your girlfriends, your friends. It is happening to people you know, people you love, people you care about.



So, guys, just take a minute to think about that before you spout off about "feminism" and why #YesAllWomen is a crock. Think of us when you're feeling homophobic. Think of us when you make a joke about "dropping the soap." Think of us when you give us a hard time about walking us to the car, about being a stickler for watching you pour our drinks, when we cuss you out for catcalling us in a gas station parking lot.

For you it's a joke. For us? It could be a matter of life and death.


"Not ALL men harass women. But ALL women have, at some point, been harassed by men. Food for thought." - Adelaide Kane

Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year?

Three and a half weeks. 25 days to be exact.

I still haven't wrapped my mind around the fact that that is all the longer that stands between me and summer vacation, the start of my junior year, the end of my sophomore year. Part of me looks back over the last eight months and it feels like forever ago I started my first day of classes as a veteran. Another, bigger, part of me finds it hard to believe that my life has changed so much in such a short time.

"There are years that ask questions, and years that answer." - Zora Neale Hurston

I happened upon this quote recently, and it genuinely struck a chord with me. Coming into college as a freshman, people told me time and time again that your sophomore is the worst year. It seems to be a common theme, I mean Fall Out Boy even wrote a song about it. "Sophomore slump, or comeback of the year?" is the unspoken question posed to myself, and my peers, by life.

Life asked me this question over and over again this year. At some points I felt like I had the answer, whichever end of the spectrum it may have been. Most of the time though, I was floundering, struggling just to keep my head above water. I didn't have time to think let alone ponder how my life was going. Now that I have time to sit back and look at all that has happened, put the whirlwind on replay in slow motion, I think I have my answer.

School always sucks. There are no if's, and's, or but's about it. Homework is time consuming, studying makes us want to stab our eyes out, and many a breakdown has been had over the terror of checking an exam grade on Blackboard. With that being said, this year has been the least painful of all academically for me. I've finally found a major and subject matter I love in Political Science, and feel like I'm finally heading in the right direction.

I have made some of the greatest friends a girl could ever ask for, and in some of the most unlikely of places. I got two of the greatest littles in all of the land, and had the privilege of being a mentor to our new fall pledge class. I moved back in with my original college roommate, and have been blessed with a house full of exciting moments and loving arms when I need a shoulder to cry on. With that being said, I've grown apart from friends I swore I would always be close to. I'll be the first to admit that I've had a rough patch or two with my sorority. At the end of the day (year) though, I've never been more proud to wear Kappa Delta letters, or to have the people in my life that I do - whether they came as a lesson or a blessing.

Love in a college town is like none other, and this year was no exception for me. I was blessed to have two men come into my life over the past year, each bringing a lesson I needed to learn - ready or not. I've been both the heartbreaker and heartbroken, and it changed me more than I ever expected. I learned what it is to open your heart to someone, and how hard it is to break theirs because you know that you aren't what they need. I was shown what I thought was true love, then felt the pain of having it ripped away from me through a series of distasteful lies. I was broken in the exact way I needed to find myself, and for that I am could not be more thankful.

I started this blog back in August just for my own sanity, and have been amazed to watch it grow. The feeling I get when people tell me that they love hearing what I have to say is indescribable, and I feel so lucky to have the chance to change even just my own small corner of the world.

I have come so far mentally, spiritually, and more than anything - emotionally. I've finally accepted that when one door opens, there is another opening somewhere out there. I've come to realize good things don't come to those who wait, they are found by those who work for them. I wake up in the morning thankful for the sunshine coming through my window, thankful for the chance to stand and fight for another day. So, as I sit here and think about my sophomore year, I think I have my answer...

What started out to be a sophomore slump has turned into the comeback of the year.

To The Girl With The Broken Heart

Dear Girl With The Broken Heart,

Please let me start off by apologizing for how fragile I am. Almost twenty years in the making, and you'd think I'd have this whole routine down by now. But please, give me some credit. You and me? We've been through some tough times through the years, although I think maybe this one takes the cake.

I'll give you some credit, even though you've been holding that out on me. You did a good job protecting yourself this time. You took your time, tested the waters, made sure that you truly believed that this could be for the long haul. Please understand that it's not your fault. Nothing you could have done ever would have changed the course of fate. What is past is past - no matter how fresh in your mind - and it is time to pour yourself a drink, put on some red lipstick, and pull yourself together.

Look at your future. All of your life, everyone has worshipped your potential. Are you truly willing to throw it away over some human who happens to have a Y-chromosome? Let me tell you the correct answer, darling. No. You aren't.

Lady Gaga is pretty eccentric and overrated, but she's got one thing right... "Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you it doesn't love you anymore."

Look around you, my love. Look at what the world has to offer. Don't see through the friendships, the support system, the amazing people that you already have in your life. Don't forget about the incredible adventures and journeys life has to offer, don't ignore the untapped potential that everyone can see... Except you. Stop looking in the mirror and feeling sorry for yourself, and look around you.

I am so sorry that he hurt you, and I couldn't be sorrier that he tore me apart. But this is where you start to pick up the pieces. This is where you remind yourself that you are strong, you are kind, you are important, and you are worth a fight. And remember, even when I'm broken, I'm beside you every step of the way.

Love,
Your Heart

A Modern-Day Fairytale

"Certain as the sun, rising in the east. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme."

Little girls grow up dreaming of their Prince Charming.. Or Prince Eric, or Aladdin, or Prince Phillip, or heck maybe even their own Beast. It doesn't stop with little girls though, it is a dream that is with us even as we enter middle and high school, when we graduate, go off to college.

In this day and age it is easy to hold the classical standards of a "fairytale romance" in a world where that honestly isn't feasible anymore. With the technology we have nowadays, it would be likely that Prince Charming would post on Facebook rather than searching the kingdom, and that someone would have used Find My Friends to find Belle and save her from Beast. Now, with that being said - that doesn't mean you have to take the Taylor Swift outlook on love and relationships (she's a little bit too jaded and melancholy for a beautiful woman her age, if you ask me).

T-Swifty tells us, "When I was a little girl I used to read fairy tales. In fairy tales you meet Prince Charming and he's everything you ever wanted. In fairy tales the bad guy is very easy to spot. The bad guy is always wearing a black cape so you always know who he is. Then you grow up and you realize that Prince Charming is not as easy to find as you thought. You realize the bad guy is not wearing a black cape and he's not easy to spot; he's really funny, and he makes you laugh, and he has perfect hair.”

I'm calling bullshit on this one, y'all. Just because the modern-day fairytale isn't the storybook fable of a knight in shining armor riding in on a noble white steed sweeping you off your feet, it does not mean that the Prince Charming is any less easy to spot. It doesn't mean that the fairytale to be told is any less romantic, or necessary, or important, or fulfilling.

I am by no means a feminist. But that doesn't mean I believe that a woman's place is in the kitchen, or anything sexist like that. I don't believe that a woman needs a man to save her, to take care of her, provide for her. And that, right there, is the beauty of the modern fairytale.

A woman doesn't need a man to do any of these things for her, but she has the choice to let him. And she has the prerogative to be okay with it. 

The modern Prince doesn't come riding in on a white horse or rescue you from your ivory tower - he drives a gunmetal gray Honda Civic and carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch.

The modern Prince doesn't have to search across the entire kingdom to bring you back your shoe - he will search across the entire kingdom to find the perfect bottle of champagne to ring in New Years with you.

The modern Prince won't indulge your every need and be at your every beck and call to save you from yourself - he won't be afraid to tell you no when you need to hear it, but will never let the outside world bring you down while you find yourself.

The modern Prince won't lock you away from the world to keep you to himself - he will encourage you to see the world, meet new people, and live your lives both together and apart because he values your independence as much as you do.

The modern Prince will tease you, tickle you, maybe he'll even yell at you or make you cry. He will question and help strengthen your beliefs, he will build you up, he will teach you lessons you didn't know you needed to learn.

Maybe the modern day Prince isn't the man you imagined as a little girl. Maybe he didn't have to fight down a thorn bush forest, or rescue you from your ivory tower or evil stepmother and stepsisters, or give you true love's kiss to save you from your eternal sleep. But isn't that the point? The traditional fairytale is about magical and imaginary beings and lands. Key words here: magical and imaginary.

The modern-day fairytale is a reality, but one many of us lacking Y-chromosomes are so quick to ignore. My question is, "Why?" Why turn away the possibility of being treated like a princess by a not-so-conventional Prince Charming in favor of a completely conventional Beast?

Don't be afraid to let someone in, you never know what is hiding behind the suit of armor.

Six months later

Six months ago, I sat down and began to type. Six months ago, I was beginning my sophomore year of college. Six months ago, I thought I knew exactly what I was doing with my life, what my plan was, who I was.

Somewhere along the line, I realized maybe I wasn't quite so sure.

Avicii has a popular song, many would argue that it is popular to the point of disintegration, but no matter your views, this song has lyrics that struck me right to the core. One line in particular especially hit home to me, "All this time I was finding myself, and I didn't know I was lost."

Six months ago, I took a risk. Six months ago, I started this blog. Six months ago, I opened myself up and finally decided to share my love of writing with the world.

These last six months have been a whirlwind... To say the least.

Since August, I've realized the truth in the philosophy of "If you can't change the people around you, change the people around you." I was in a car accident that I was lucky to walk away from. I started learning a second language. I met one of the most incredible, life-changing people that I could have ever imagined. I changed my mind of what I want to do with my life (albeit a small change). I stood up for myself. I had my first knee injury and my first concussion. I broke the heart of someone I cared deeply about, if only to save my own. I've worked to become healthier, more patient, more well-rounded, more open-minded. I've questioned the very foundations of my thinking, and I've created a relationship with God more solid than ever.

Six months ago, I thought I had it all figured out. Six months ago, I was a different person than the woman I am today. Six months ago, I didn't think it could get any better than it was.

I was wrong.

Sharing my writing has changed me as a person, and I have you to thank. If you're reading this - thank you. All I have ever wanted was to leave my mark on this world, to maybe change someone's life. I never needed it to be a big mark, just enough to be remembered by. So many people have come to me to tell me how much they love my blog, that I inspire them, to keep doing what I love. So many times when I'm told things like this, I admit, I teared up and maybe let go of a few tears.

Six months ago, I was looking for direction - even if I didn't know it at the time. Six months ago, I wrote just for me because it was something I love to do. Six months ago, I never imagined where sharing my writing would take me.

Brandon Heath sings a song I've always loved, and the chorus goes like this... "I wish you could see me now. I wish I could show you how. I'm not who I was."

I'm not who I was six months ago, and I couldn't be more thankful for that. For the first time in my life, I'm not completely sure where life is going to take me - and strangely enough? I'm completely okay with that. I have a new appreciation for the little things, for quiet moments, for new experiences. I want to travel the world, and I say "yes" now to trying anything (within reason) once. I'm in a healthy relationship for the first time, and even crazier is that he is 500 miles away. I am more grateful than ever for my independence, but I also have finally accepted that sometimes it's okay to ask for a helping hand.

Six months ago, I never could have guessed that I would be where I am today. And I can only hope to say the same six months from now.

Hemingway's Whiskey

"Hemingway's whiskey, warm and smooth and mean. 

Even when it burns, it'll always finish clean. 

He didn't like it watered down, he took it straight up and neat.

If it's bad enough for him, you know it's bad enough for me."

- Hemingway's Whiskey by Kenny Chesney

For those of you who may not be a classical literature junkie like I am, Hemingway was known for his whiskey-guzzling tendencies. He even once said, "Write drunk, edit sober." It's a strange concept to me, drinking for inspiration. "A good muse is hard to find," though I guess, right? Some people find their way through nature, others through music and action. For me? My whiskey is people.

As hard as it has been for me to admit, I love people, and I love hearing their stories. I fall in love with people every day. Yes - I fall in love with strangers every single day. Think I'm crazy yet? I'm a people watcher, that much is for certain. Sometimes I find myself sitting in a room full of people and making up stories for people I don't know. I imagine what they are talking about, what their family is like, what their dreams and hopes and aspirations are. I find myself wondering about their first love, how badly it broke their heart, and what they did to get through it. Do they have a passport? Where has it been stamped? What book are they currently immersed in, do they become a part of the story the same way I do? "There is no friend as loyal as a book." Are they deeply rooted to their hometown, or do they feel most at home fulfilling their wanderlust?

I don't just see people, I see their stories. I see an opportunity to make myself a bigger, better, more well-rounded person for knowing them. "I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen." I'm the type of person that hates knowing there are corners of this Earth I haven't yet seen, that there are people I still have yet to meet.

Don't get me wrong. There are people I have experienced that I could do without. People who have broken my heart over and over, but that I continued to go back to - an addiction, Hemingway's whiskey. "Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start, and you have to be especially hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt, use it - don't cheat with it." There are people in my life that I have let go, the ones who got away. There are people who I have taken for granted, prematurely cast judgement upon, let my eyes be opened by. I always try to convince myself that I am my own person, but just as much as Hemingway will forever be defined by his whiskey, I will always carry around pieces of all of the people I meet.

I hate to love people, in a way similar to that which I imagine Hemingway hated to love his whiskey. I don't enjoy watered down people. I love people who, while they might burn a little on the way down, teach me valuable lessons. I may never leave a legacy quite as strong as his, but it won't stop me from trying. Live hard, die hard - this one's for him.

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."

- Ernest Hemingway

"Popular" Culture?

I've been told time and time again that I was born an old soul, and I have no doubt in my mind that there is much validity in that statement. I'd rather read F. Scott Fitzgerald than Cosmo, and I spend more money at J.Crew than Forever 21. I keep a journal and prefer handwritten letters, I am in a relationship that is based on more than boozy weekends and Instagram posts. Maybe this is why I am in such complete opposition with what society considers "pop culture".

I don't keep up with the Kardashians. I don't care about what drugs Justin Bieber is doing this week. I couldn't care less about what new stunt Miley Cyrus has come up with to seek attention. None of those things concern me even a fraction of how much they seem to engulf people my age. Sometimes I look at my generation, and it all makes sense why we're Generation Y. Literally, why?! I've harped on this before, but this time my perspective is different.

After seemingly the longest semester of my college career (I understand why they call it a sophomore slump now), I came back after Christmas break ready to make the comeback of the year. I've been seeing things in a completely different light, and maybe even a little out of my element. Have I grown out of touch with the way things are these days? Have I become so focused on the rest of my life that I have forgotten the here and now? I like to think that I haven't. I still have more fun than I know what to do with, I say yes to opportunities, I'm truly living the dream. But I still find myself shaking my head at things I see... In person, on campus, on the weekends, on social media. Now, don't get me wrong - we all make questionable decisions sometimes. I mean.. It's college. In no way am I pointing fingers. But I can't help but wonder what is going through the mind of people my age when they do some of the things they do? 

College might be the best years of your life, but they are not the only four years of your life. Remember why you're here. We're here to make friendships, connections, learn (do we have to???), and prepare yourself for the rest of your life. We hear people constantly harping on us to be aware of what we post on social media, because our future employers are watching. It's so easy to blow it off because "out of sight, out of mind." But in all reality, there are more than just future employers watching. Your family is watching, your friends (and frenemies for that matter) are watching, God is watching. Do you want their impression of you to be a lush who wears provocative outfits and dances on tables every weekend? I mean, maybe you do. And if you're one of those people, you do you. 

Even more so than just the choices we make, we have to keep in mind that they are our choices. No one else's. This is what frustrates me more than anything about my generation. Why is it that we feel it is completely okay to blame others for our choices? No, it probably isn't your professor's fault you failed chemistry - it's probably because you chose to go out to a party on the night before your final instead of studying. No, it isn't the officer's fault for pulling you over and charging you with a DUI - it's your fault for putting the innocent lives of others in the path of danger. There are countless things that we do, big and small, that we try so hard to blame others for. Myself included. But this isn't where the road ends. 

This is just where the road begins. We all make mistakes. We all do things that we regret, and we wish we could take back. But, everything in life is either a blessing or a lesson. I propose that we take matters into our own hands, and start learning from our lessons. You don't have to Bono or Bill Gates to change the world. Change has always come from pissed off young people. Do yourself a favor, do the world around you a favor. Take charge in this life, and make a change for the better. You might just surprise yourself with what you can accomplish. Maybe you'll even change the face of what "popular" culture is. But if you don't? You'll still change your life.