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    • What a Female-Centered Society Would Look Like

      Posted at 6:49 pm by kpodulka, on February 3, 2019
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      In our current male-centric society, everything revolves around the male’s needs, opinions, wants and desires. The female’s role is secondary, and her needs are only considered, as they relate to the male.

      For example, according to Vocabulary.com, the vagina is defined as “An opening in a woman’s body that goes back to her uterus. In sex, the man’s penis goes into the vagina.” If this was written from the female point of view, I’d wager a guess that the definition would be more about things that come out of the vagina (periods, babies) rather than what occasionally goes in it.

      If our society was female focused, there would be no tax on tampons and pads. Period-related products would be considered an absolute necessity, like prescription drugs and food. Currently, in all but 9 states, menstrual products are considered “hygiene products” like deodorant, therefore deemed non-essential. Um, my underpants beg to differ 7 days every month.

      If our society took women’s needs into consideration, all maternity leave would be paid and jobs would be secure with no repercussions. It is possible to do, just ask Denmark. Also, schools and daycare hours would align with business hours. Please tell me how I’m supposed to go to work from 8:30-6:00, while my kid goes to school from 8:00-2:45. IT DOESN’T WORK.

      If our society put women’s wants & needs first, Hollywood would have more than just 4% female directors and 15% female writers making all of the movies in 2018. This disparity perpetuates the male’s point of view. Ever notice how many damsels in distress are in movies? Or clingy girlfriends? Or buzz-kill wives? Or bitchy bosses? Or gossipy girls? If women wrote our stories, I guarantee you female characters would be portrayed as the empathetic, capable, intelligent, multi-tasking heroes that we truly are!

      If America wanted to guarantee women were equal in our society, they’d add the ERA to the constitution. For those of you who don’t know, “The Equal Rights Amendment is a proposed amendment to the United States Constitution designed to guarantee equal legal rights for all American citizens regardless of sex; it seeks to end the legal distinctions between men and women in terms of divorce, property, employment, and other matters.” The ERA was first introduced to Congress in 1923. It’s now 2019 and we STILL do not have the necessary 38 states on board for full ratification. For those of you counting, that’s 96 years of fighting to guarantee women constitutional rights equal to those of men in the United States of America. If you’re not furious yet, read more here.

      If our society was female-centric, abortion wouldn’t be a political pawn. It would be considered health care and only discussed between a patient and her doctor. Same goes for female birth control–it would be readily available with no questions asked. You know, like condoms are.

      If society put women’s needs first, women would be believed when reporting abuse and assault. Not only would women be believed, they’d be protected and receive justice. And if assailants were appropriately punished, perhaps rape stats would go down. And then maybe women could feel safe in their own skin. Currently male’s reputations and careers are valued much higher than a woman’s truth. Just ask the United States Supreme Court.

      Finally, in no particular order, in a female-centered society, there’d be: no body-shaming, no age-shaming, no slut-shaming, for-fucks-sake-just-no shaming at all, also no high heels, no Spanx, no bras. Women would have equal pay, equal respect, equal representation, equal credibility, equal opportunities, equal say, and equal rights. Is that so much to ask?

      A girl can dream, right? Fuck that–a girl can fight! fight! fight! until we achieve equality!!

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      Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, life, misogyny, rape culture, Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged equality, feminism, rape culture
    • To Rape or Not To Rape

      Posted at 12:33 pm by kpodulka, on October 7, 2018

      **TRIGGER WARNING**

      I was raped twice while I was in my twenties.

      During that same time period, I was also not raped thousands of times.

      See if you can spot the difference.

      The first time I was raped, was while I was in Cancun on spring break with my sorority sisters. I was very, very drunk in a crowded bar. I had lost track of my friends late one night, when the man I was dancing with led me by the arm, stumbling, out of the bar and onto the beach. I remember asking what was going on as I flopped down in the sand. He proceeded to lift up my dress and pull down my underwear. As he was having sex with me, I distinctly remember him asking me if I was on birth control. I answered no and he was really mad about it. He pulled out of me and came on my stomach. Then he left. He left me on the beach, in the dark, in Mexico, with sand up my private parts and cum running down my stomach. I remember getting myself up, walking back through the bar, still not seeing any of my friends, and taking the shuttle bus back to my hotel alone. I spent a full week on that vacation with my closest friends, and never told any of them what had happened to me. I believed all the blame was mine because I had been dancing drunk and lost track of my friends. I was embarrassed and ashamed.

      The second time I was raped, I was also on vacation with a girlfriend, drinking and dancing in crowded nightclub. I remember this guy, who told me he was a Miami cop, started dancing with me and I couldn’t get away from him—there were so many people—I was trapped. He held me close to him as he danced, groped me, and fingered me. Eventually I worked my way out of the club, leaving my girlfriend behind in desperation to escape. The guy followed me out and hailed a taxi saying it was for me, as I could barely walk from intoxication. I got in the taxi and told the driver the name of my hotel, when suddenly the guy got in next to me. The taxi dropped us both off at my hotel. The most vivid memory I have is walking into the hotel lobby and looking at the front desk employee thinking “Stop this! Stop him! I don’t want this! Make him leave me alone!” But the words never came out. I was too inebriated to even speak, let alone consent to anything that was happening. The guy followed me to my room, fished my key out of my purse, and had sex with me as I laid semi-conscience on the bed. Then he left. The next morning I woke up, filled with guilt and shame. I never told my girlfriend, or anyone for that matter, until now.

      One time I wasn’t raped, was during “welcome week” at Michigan State University. The entire point of “welcome week” was to get as drunk as possible and party all week before classes started. I remember going to a house party and getting so drunk that I passed out in a driveway. The next thing I remember was being lifted up and carried back to my dorm room by a boy I knew from high school. He got me safely home, tucked me into my bed, and that’s it. He didn’t rape me.

      Another time I wasn’t raped was at a fraternity party. I think it was one of those “progressive” drinking parties where the boys take the girls room by room thru the frat house to drink different drinks in each bedroom. I got to the point of falling down drunk, when one of the fraternity boys (whom I didn’t know) took me into his bedroom and put me to bed. He stayed in the room too, yet I slept there all night, untouched. I vividly remember walking back to my apartment the next morning thinking how lucky I was that he hadn’t raped me.

      I also wasn’t raped on my 21st birthday, even though I had done the traditional 21 shots to celebrate and spent the entire day and night in a bar. I was publicly intoxicated, surrounded by young men, yet not raped even once.

      I wasn’t raped at all the year I lived alone in Atlanta, Georgia. Even though I went out every weekend to dance and drink with girlfriends. Even though I spent countless evenings alone with my young, single, male boss who had also moved to Atlanta with the same ad agency. Never once did he do anything inappropriate. He’s a hero in my mind because he never raped me.

      I could go on, but I’m hoping you see my point. Not that binge drinking was a huge issue in my twenties, the other point…NOT ALL MEN RAPE. If I’m the same in each instance: female, drunk, unsupervised, in no state to consent to anything, then the guys are the variable. My being publicly intoxicated is not an open invitation to rape me. All men have impulse control. I’ll repeat that for those in the back: ALL MEN HAVE IMPULSE CONTROL. They make the choice to either rape us, or not to.

      Perhaps the choice to rape at all would be completely eliminated if penalties for rape were more stringent and unilaterally enforced in this country. Perhaps if young boys worried about going to jail or, say, losing a seat on the Supreme Court they wouldn’t consider rape an option at all.

      Special thanks to my neighbor and fellow school-mom Dr. Christine Blasey Ford for showing me that speaking out is always the right thing to do. Her example of courage will outlive all politicians and their agendas. She is a beacon of light that will burn for all future generations of women.

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      Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, misogyny, rape culture | 2 Comments | Tagged advice, ally, believe, feminism, misogyny, rape culture, Sex Education, Sexism
    • I’m Gonna Fight. For My Right. To Paaaaaarrrrrrrty!

      Posted at 10:39 pm by kpodulka, on September 27, 2018

      If you think all a woman carries when she goes out for a night on the town is a cute handbag …think again. She also carries on her shoulders the following list of responsibilities the entire night. (And let me tell you, this shit is heavy!)

      Here’s hoping that one day, in the not too distant future, women of the world can go out and, oh, I don’t know, NOT worry about being attacked. Women can go to bars, dressed how they like, drinking as much as they like and simply have a carefree night. Party and not worry–image that. No, wait–CHEERS TO THAT! 

      1. Don’t go out alone–have a buddy system–safety in numbers and all that good stuff.

      2. Carry mace or a rape-whistle or one of the hundreds of self-defense products sold to women. 

      3. Don’t dress too skimpy or flashy or sophisticated or, or, I don’t know, I guess just not in any way that ‘asks’ to be attacked, you know? Use your best judgment on this one. But still look cute of course! 

      4. Think twice about a ponytail (attackers can grab you by it)

      5. Think twice about high heels (harder to run from attacker)

      6. Tell someone where you going and what time you expect to be home so they know to check up on you (in case you get attacked). Or download one of these hand-dandy ‘Personal Safety’ apps before you leave for the night. 

      7. Don’t accept drinks from strangers (may be roofied = attack) But also, don’t be rude if a guy wants to buy you a drink. I mean, DO NOT DRINK IT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, but just really try not to be rude either. 

      8. If you’re really worried about being roofied, buy that lipstick, or nail polish, or straw-thingy which detects drugs before you drink anything. Fun new accessory, right gals?!?

      9. If you’re particularly worried, and need a way to ‘escape’ a situation, check the back of the stall doors in the girl’s bathroom–there’s usually a code word you can say to a female bartender to help you.

      10. Don’t drink too much. You’re more likely to get attacked if you’re drunk. Have fun! But you know, not too much fun. 

      11. Think twice about calling an Uber or Lyft to get home (lots of those guys attack women). You’re basically getting into a stranger’s car, and we all know that’s a no-no.

      12. Don’t walk home from the bar alone, or with a stranger, or if you’re too drunk, or near an ally, but also don’t drive drunk, or go anywhere near your parked car at night because an attacker may be in your backseat waiting to pounce, or hiding under your car, or as soon as you hit ‘unlock’ on the doors an attacker will jump in the passenger seat, but also, don’t call an Uber (see #11)

      13. And GOD HELP YOU if you’re a college girl reading this…hopefully your University has ‘rape phones’, or ‘safe rides’ around campus like mine did. ‘Cause that definitely stops attacks. (It doesn’t)

      14. Oh, and a note on #1…it’s critical that you don’t separate from your buddy, like, at all during the night. I mean, of course go dance, and like I said, HAVE FUN, just keep an eagle eye on your friend the entire night. Maybe, like, watch how much she’s drinking, and who she’s talking to, and shit is she wearing heels?? And who bought her that drink?? You know what, just leave. Grab her and get outta there.

      Except, shit…how will you get home?? 

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      Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, misogyny, rape culture | 0 Comments | Tagged feminism, rape culture, Sexism
    • International Women’s Day–The Day After

      Posted at 10:51 pm by kpodulka, on March 9, 2018

      My latest video explains why the women’s movement needs more than just one day in which we come together and demand change. I outline specific issues and actions that each and every one of us can begin doing today! Comment below or email me if you’d like to learn more. Join the movement–every single effort matters.

       

      International Womens Day 2018The Day After (1)Trim

      International Womens Day 2018The Day After (1)Trim

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      Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, life, misogyny, rape culture | 2 Comments | Tagged advice, ally, body image, Corporate America, daughters, diet, double standard, hollywood, International Women's Day, Intuitive Eating, meetoo, misogyny, rape culture, ReeceWitherspoon, Sex Ed, Sex Education, Sexism, timesup, Wage Gap, women's movement, Working Women
    • Misplaced Blame

      Posted at 11:49 am by kpodulka, on May 25, 2016

      I thought it was my fault.

      When I was 12, a newbie at menstruating, I tossed a bloody maxi pad in the garbage can of our downstairs bathroom. I thought I had rolled it up tightly. Later that day, my mother took me aside and in hushed urgent whispers told me to never-ever throw away a feminine product without wrapping it thoroughly in toilet paper. I had to cover that shit up and hide it. She told me that my father has seen my mess in the garbage can, in the bathroom, and was disgusted. Oh the shame! She was embarrassed. I was embarrassed. It was my fault that my dad had seen my dirty little secret. Lesson learned–when I had my period, keep it under wraps as to not embarrass anyone.

      I thought it was my fault.

      When I was a freshman in High School, my locker was next to a boy. Not a big deal, except that this particular boy was a pig. He liked to make disgusting gestures and crass remarks on a daily basis, usually in my direction. I was a bundle of nerves going to my locker 5 times a day between classes, only relaxing if I didn’t see him standing there. One day he upped his game, by “de-pantsing” me as I stood getting books from my locker. He literally yanked down my pants in the middle of a crowded high school hallway. As he, and others, were laughing and pointing at me with my pants around my ankles, this is what ran thru my head “OMG! I may literally die of embarrassment. What underwear do I have on? How fat does my butt look? Did I shave my legs today? Why is this happening to me? Are my friends seeing this? I am so embarrassed!!” I didn’t get mad, I got embarrassed. I never reported it to a teacher or told my parents, that never even occurred to me. He was a boy, playing a prank, and somehow I was just as much responsible for it happening.

      I thought it was my fault.

      Amy Schumer makes a joke that every woman has been “kinda raped”. I’ll give you a moment to think about what that statement means. The joke she makes is spot on because it’s vague, as is our definition of rape. We tend to think of rape as a random attack from a stranger in a dark parking lot as you walk to your car. But it’s so much more than that. It’s taken me 20+ years to admit this: I’ve been raped twice. I never told anyone. But I need to get it out there and off my chest. Not for sympathy–for awareness. Both of my situations happened when I was overly intoxicated and in public. I was out drinking and dancing and having a great time. My friends were all somewhere in the vicinity. I wasn’t kidnapped, attacked (per say), beaten or physically hurt. I was taken advantage of. I was in no state of mind to consent to anything, yet it happened. Twice, within 2 years. And I’ve blamed myself all this time, because I shouldn’t have been drunk. I should have been more cautious. I shouldn’t have let my guard down and had fun. I should have stayed closer to my friends. They should have stayed closer to me. I shouldn’t have smiled with the guy or danced with him. I shouldn’t have dressed so skimpy. So much blame to go around, yet until this past year I put NONE of the blame on the 2 men who did it to me. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!? I’m now releasing my younger, vulnerable self from this blame and placing it where it belongs. On the scum bags who raped me.

      I thought it was my fault.

      Ask any woman you know if she’s been sexually harassed at work. I guarantee you she has a story, if not 10 stories. Then ask her if she ever reported it. Ha! She hasn’t has she? That’s because on some level she feels responsible for the harassment and/or knows that reporting it will only cause a big fuss and negatively impact her career. I have at least 10 stories, but the one that really sticks with me is from my early 20’s. I was a young Account Executive in a big Ad Agency. I was trying to make my way, make my career, and do a good job. That’s why I showed up every day. I did not show up to have my boss comment on my outfit. Compliment me. Look me up and down. Leer at me. Ask me about my boyfriend. Sit next to me at meetings. Call me into his office for no reason. Visit me in my office for no reason. Watch me walk away…I hated him. He made the job I otherwise loved, miserable. He made me self-conscious and panicky. The worst story is when we had an all day off-site meeting planned at a colleague’s house. There was a packed agenda and I was excited about the event. That is until my boss started saying comments to me like “can’t wait to spend time with you out of the office” “I hear the house has a pool–bring your bikini. Or don’t, bathing suits are optional”. I was so sick with worry about seeing him at the event that I didn’t go. I missed out on an important meeting in my career because of this man. I told my female supervisor about him, but not in a “I’m reporting this” way, more like a moaning, complaining, way. We both rolled our eyes and talked about how much we despised him. Why didn’t we tell HR? Why, for the love of God, didn’t we directly tell him to stop? Why didn’t I call his wife and tell him she was married to the devil?  Because he outranked us, it was daunting, and we had no support to do it.

      I thought all of this was my fault, until very recently. Maybe it’s turning 40. Maybe it’s having a daughter. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of our society being touted as advanced and civilized, yet our women are shamed for menstruating, raped and harassed every single day. I pray that women stand up. Speak up. Band together and demand to be treated with dignity and respect.

      Because none of this is our fault.

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      Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, misogyny, rape culture | 8 Comments | Tagged ally, believe, believe women, double standard, feminism, meetoo, rape culture, Sexism, soul searching, timesup
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