And, like, incest accounts for only a small portion of cases. Cammie looked thoughtful. And Plan B is, like, perfectly accessible—you can get it at Walmart and Target. If I was raped, I would do that. But Cammie and Caitlyn also felt they were not in a position to judge any woman who decided to have an abortion.
They were virgins, they said, which made them the target of another sort of mockery among their peers. In the reams of op-eds, think pieces, and tweets that flowed in the days after Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed to the Supreme Court, many complained about the complicity of white women in maintaining white male power. In her book, Right-Wing Women , Dworkin explored how the conservative movement in the United States had succeeded in enlisting women in preserving male authority; but Dworkin went further.
On an October night at the Hops Burger Bar in Chapel Hill, Gabby Derosier was telling me how the conservative response to the Kavanaugh hearings had made her wonder about the attitudes of the men in her life toward sexual assault. Gabby called herself a libertarian. She was a member of Turning Point USA, the conservative student organization founded by Charlie Kirk, the incendiary year-old right-wing activist.
Raised in Raleigh, she identified as a Latina; her mother, a C. Both of her parents were Republicans. She was a political-science major and a member of a sorority. Like, where is the line we can all agree that someone should not cross? Gabby seemed to be trying to work it all out. I just wish that they would say that more often than they do. So did she think that Kavanaugh should have been confirmed? Over the course of my conversations with conservative women at U.
She said that it happened her freshman year, her first night at the school. I just know that something happened. He told people and he acted like it was something I did willingly. But what could I say? What proof did I have of anything? It was a few days after Brett Kavanaugh had been confirmed, and Cammie and Caitlyn said they were pleased with the decision. They believed Christine Blasey Ford was assaulted by someone, they said, just not by Kavanaugh this was also the central conservative talking point.
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It was not as if she had never been sexually assaulted herself, Cammie said. Once again, their views had gotten them into trouble with their fellow students. It was set to take place in a large conference room with about chairs facing a dais. Maggie arrived an hour early, dressed in heels and her Republican-red blazer. She was the only student appearing on the panel—which she had been invited to join after complaining to one of the organizers of the event that there were no conservative women slated to speak—and she seemed a bit nervous.
After a while, the room filled up with adults and students, mostly young women with ponytails and long straight hair, in T-shirts and shorts and leggings.
Maggie sat on the dais next to the other panelists—three white women, one African-American woman, and one Latina woman—looking wide-eyed as they spoke movingly of the roadblocks they had encountered along the way in their political careers, including sexism and racism. A shuffling sound arose in the room. Some of the students began to whisper, titter. And then, in the discussion that followed, a young woman directed a question to Maggie. The crowd began to hiss. If they had been persuaded to listen to her for a moment, now she had lost them.
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One by one, the other women panelists told the crowd that they supported the removal of Silent Sam, that he was a symbol of white supremacy. Maggie stared straight ahead, resolute, blinking.
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Adulthood was coming, and I could not wait. This is the song that runs under my skydiving video. We tend to forget Kristin Scott Thomas. The year before, a bunch of us snuck successfully into The Breakfast Club by buying tickets to Places in the Heart. You know how groups of year-old boys enjoy a good Depression-era Sally Field—Danny Glover farm drama. We were taught by a strict group of Benedictine monks, most of whom were British and all of whom were empowered to smack us right in the head, hands, or backside if we were sassy, which we mostly were.
We wore ties every day, we always had to be on a sports team, our school day went from to It was like the military, but the drill sergeants wore robes.
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Far more rigid than the monks were the boys. Mean girls are legendary in our culture, but put a bunch of teenage males under one roof and see what happens. It was a conformity factory, because the price of nonconformity was attention, and the attention of a building full of pubescent boys in ties is not the kind of thing you want.
I kept my head down.
So, how did I do?
But that summer, I enrolled in the creative-writing program of a summer school for artsy kids, and the tie came off. The weird were in charge here. I spent the whole six weeks of this program with a smile so wide even the drama kids were like: dial it back. If you told me it was cooked up in an hour by a small-market Morning Zoo team, I would have no choice but to believe you.
From Motorhead. Middle-aged rock legends making compromises: hot hot hot in It was like watching a torturously slow breakup between a person who is ready to move on and a person who is absolutely not going to be okay.
Simply Fred wore black turtlenecks almost exclusively, despite the punishing St. Louis heat. He gesticulated wildly with his hands, which he tucked into his sleeves, giving him the effect of an inflatable dancing man outside of a goth used car dealership. I closely monitored my every word, my every gesture, my every letter S , but Simply Fred let it all hang out. He was proud of himself.
He was too gay to function, and yet he functioned. As a teenage boy. In To this day, I fear and envy Simply Fred. There was not yet a word for the music I was falling in love with, which made it feel even more like it had been made just for me.