adjective: characterized by or exhibiting excessive vanity; boastful; thinking too highly of oneself. oh and if you disagree and don't think I'm better than you in every way, please by all means, let me know: vainglorious.sarah at gmail
earlier this year i released a zine of flannery o’connor portraits, and yesterday the bitter southerner was kind enough to feature it. check it out to see all the illustrations from the zine, as well as some really incredible writing from the five stellar ladies who read at the release party at mint gallery last month. i also talked a little bit about the genesis of the project. particularly proud that 15-year-old jolisa brown, my mentee in the 2013 kipp scribes program, is in here, making her the youngest contributor the bitter southern has ever had. tl; dr if your friends are talented and you play well together DO IT DO IT
This quote in the piece by Carleigh in this overall awesome Flannery tribute is absolutely perfect. Proud of my people today.
I went to have a couple beers with my coworker, favorite buddy Joel this evening. My Milwaukee schedule shifted and he offered to treat me to a drink and catch up and chat about some stuff. We talked about how he’s going to end things with his lady friend, work, our weekends, that a man was killed by a cop a block from my house last night, and Ray Rice.
The shooting and what happened and the potential sketchiness was a topic for a spell. Launching into my comments about being robbed, how I’d never really heard gunshots, and didn’t hear them last night. It was a frank and intense conversation. Admitting we were so lucky in this city. So many in Chicago don’t have the luxury of wondering, “huh have I ever heard real gunshots?” It’s sad and galling.
At some point after, I mentioned Smith and his comments. He agreed they were dumb and I launched into my perspective and this story. This buddy is a man who I’ve spent lots and lots of time with. Who knows my dating history pretty thoroughly — as I know his. We are close. We discuss stuff that’s intense and embarrassing and uncomfortable all the time.
As I was talking about my experiences with DV, upbeat and relaxed. To the point, matter of fact, unemotional. He asked me to stop. He didn’t want to hear about it. It bothered him. It upset him. I said oh it doesn’t faze me, I’d really like to finish my point, cool? He looked pained and said … okay.
I know part of his hesitation was concern for me and not wanting to confront that. But I’m fine now. I’ve been fine a long time. I, of course, stated my “it’s really important for me to be able to openly discuss these things” position. But it is. For so many reasons. It’s not attention or sympathy, it’s publicity. Spread the word, shit is common. And shouldn’t be.
He paused and told me gets it. And didn’t stop me further. So I continued and he listened and that’s all I needed. All lots of us need. Not a victim, not broken, not even emotional. It’s something that happens and we want to share. Feel we should or must and please don’t begrudge anyone an open ear and a little understanding. And zero need for you to feel sorry for me or anyone really. Victims, survivors, people of all types are just trying to live and we all have shit and maybe let people tell you about theirs.
My favorite type of antifeminism whinging is “WHAT ABOUT THE MEN OH NO HOW DARE YOU” whinging. Guess what ladies: lots of those bros don’t give one fuck about you or your equality. But yep keep paying them lip service. Trust me, they’re fine. They’ll manage without your support. That’s the whole fucking point.