In recent years, more and more of hip-hop’s vanguard artists, reaching the nostalgic memoir portion of their careers, have revealed that they confronted sexual abuse in their pasts. Common, Jim Jones, Kevin Gates, and more have come out with their realizations that they weren’t ready for some of the sexual encounters that were forced onto them in childhood and publicly reckoned with the effects that could have on their mature relationships.
Jeezy has added himself to that list, detailing how his trauma affected him in an hour-long interview with Nia Long about his new album, I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget. “I think the first [example of trauma] was being left with a babysitter that was a woman that was older than me,” he admits in the video, “And her, you know, touching me and doing things to me that don’t normally happen to kids… I was introduced to sex at a very young age.”
He also talks about his recent divorce from Jeannie Mai after the birth of their child together, saying, “I can tell you that this has not been an easy journey. I can tell you that I’m saddened. I can tell you that I’m disappointed. I can tell you that I’m uneasy, right? But, again, God has put me on a different path, and that path is going to entail for me to take care of myself and to love myself and to be in the best situation that I can thrive as someone who’s been through all of the things that I’ve been through.”
Still, he denies that infidelity plays a part, quoting, “Real n****s don’t cheat,” from the chorus of his new track “Don’t Cheat.”
In recent years, more and more of hip-hop’s vanguard artists, reaching the nostalgic memoir portion of their careers, have revealed that they confronted sexual abuse in their pasts. Common, Jim Jones, Kevin Gates, and more have come out with their realizations that they weren’t ready for some of the sexual encounters that were forced onto them in childhood and publicly reckoned with the effects that could have on their mature relationships.
Jeezy has added himself to that list, detailing how his trauma affected him in an hour-long interview with Nia Long about his new album, I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget. “I think the first [example of trauma] was being left with a babysitter that was a woman that was older than me,” he admits in the video, “And her, you know, touching me and doing things to me that don’t normally happen to kids… I was introduced to sex at a very young age.”
He also talks about his recent divorce from Jeannie Mai after the birth of their child together, saying, “I can tell you that this has not been an easy journey. I can tell you that I’m saddened. I can tell you that I’m disappointed. I can tell you that I’m uneasy, right? But, again, God has put me on a different path, and that path is going to entail for me to take care of myself and to love myself and to be in the best situation that I can thrive as someone who’s been through all of the things that I’ve been through.”
Still, he denies that infidelity plays a part, quoting, “Real n****s don’t cheat,” from the chorus of his new track “Don’t Cheat.”
It’s been a long time coming, but the much anticipated next bit of excellent news for Grand Theft Auto fans arrived this week. That is to say, the GTA 6 trailer will arrive within weeks (early December). There’s no concrete release date for any platform as of yet, but wheels are definitely in motion. Much more so than a year or so ago when a source code leak and resulting gameplay video footage surfaced after a Rockstar Games-cofirmed “network intrusion.”
Since the “when” of GTA 6 remains a mystery, what of the “where”? In all likelihood, PS4 players will be out of luck, given that such a high-profile new release is probably not going to be downshifted for a 10-year-old platform. PC should be guaranteed, although Comic Book points towards word from an “insider” who suggests that there won’t be a Day One release on PC:
Rumors have been floating around about what to expect from GTA 6 for years. One of the newest rumors come from insider Tez2 who claims GTA 6 will likely not get a day and date PC release alongside the console versions (via Dexerto). Tez2 noted that the game on PC is more buggy than the console versions and Rockstar is trying to avoid a disastrous PC launch like Star Wars Jedi: Survivor and The Last of Us Part 1. With that said, the PC version won’t come until at least a few months after the console launch.
All of this information seems plausible enough, and although GTA 6 probably will not be a PS5-exclusive release, there’s a hefty chance that there will be a months-long delay for the PC version. Not only does that give opportunity to iron out bugs but up the chances of people purchasing the game on two platforms. And of course, it doesn’t hurt Sony to give players more incentive to wish for a PS5 under this year’s holiday tree.
Taking care of a newborn baby is mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausting. For the first four months (at least!), new parents have to dedicate every part of themselves to caring for this young life.
There’s little time for self-care during this chaotic period, let alone a moment to be fully present with a partner.
A blogger who goes by the name Celeste Yvonne is the mother of a toddler and a newborn and wrote a revealing open letter to her husband asking for more help with their children. It’s going viral because it paints a very real picture of what it feels like to be a mother who feels stuck doing everything.
It’s also important because it gives specific ways for parents to support each other.
Dear Husband,
I. Need. More. Help.
Last night was hard for you. I asked you to watch the baby so I could go to bed early. The baby was crying. Wailing, really. I could hear him from upstairs and my stomach knotted from the sound, wondering if I should come down there and relieve you or just shut the door so I could get some desperately needed sleep. I chose the latter.
You came into the room 20 minutes later, with the baby still frantically crying. You placed the baby in the bassinet and gently pushed the bassinet just a few inches closer to my side of the bed, a clear gesture that you were done watching him.
I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to launch an epic fight that very moment. I had been watching the baby and the toddler all damn day. I was going to be waking up with the baby to feed him all damn night. The least you could do is hold him for a couple of hours in the evening to I can attempt to sleep.
Just a few hours of precious sleep. Is that too much to ask?
I know we both watched our parents fulfill the typical mother-father roles growing up. Both our mothers were the primary caretakers and our fathers were relatively hands off. They were excellent dads, but they weren’t expected to spend a significant amount of time changing diapers, feeding, caring, and tending to the kids. Our mothers were the superwomen who maintained the family dynamics. Cooking, cleaning, and raising the children. Any help from dad was welcome, but unexpected.
I see us falling into these family dynamics more and more each day. My responsibility to feed the family, keep the house clean, and take care of the kids is assumed, even as I return to work. I blame myself for most of it too. I have set the precedent that I can do it. And in truth I want to. No offense, but I’m not sure I want to know what a week’s worth of dinner would look like with you in charge.
I also see my friends and other moms doing it all, and doing it well. I know you see it, too. If they can manage it, and if our mothers did it so well for us, why can’t I?
I don’t know.
Maybe our friends are playing the part in public and secretly struggling. Maybe our moms suffered in silence for years and now, thirty years later, they simply don’t remember how hard it really was. Or maybe, and this is something I berate myself over every single day, I’m just not as qualified for the job as everyone else. And as much as I cringe just thinking it, I’m going to say it: I need more help.
Part of me feels like a failure for even asking. I mean, you do help. You are an amazing father, and you do a great job with the kids. And besides, this should come easy to me, right? Motherly instincts, no?
But I’m human, and I’m running on five hours of sleep and tired as hell. I need you.
In the morning, I need you to get our toddler ready so I can care for the baby and make everyone’s lunches and drink a cup of coffee. And no, getting the toddler ready does not mean plopping him in front of the TV. It means making sure he went potty, giving him some breakfast, seeing if he wants water, and packing his bag for school.
At night, I need an hour to decompress in bed knowing our toddler is asleep in his room and the baby is in your care. I know it’s hard to listen to the baby cry. Believe me, I know. But if I can watch and pacify the baby for the majority of the day, you can do it for an hour or two at night. Please. I need you.
On weekends, I need more breaks. Times where I can get out of the house by myself and feel like an individual. Even if it’s just a walk around the block or a trip to the grocery store. And some days when I’ve scheduled swim class and play dates, and it seems like I’ve got it all under control, I need you to offer to lend me a hand. Or suggest I go lay down during the kids’ naptime. Or start putting away the dishes without me suggesting it. I need you.
Lastly, I need to hear you’re grateful for all I do. I want to know that you notice the laundry is done and a nice dinner has been prepared. I want to know you appreciate that I breastfeed at all hours and pump when I’m at work when it would be easier for me to formula feed. I hope you notice that I never ask you to stay home from your networking events and sport activities. As the mom, it’s assumed I’ll be home all the time and always available to care for the kids while you’re out and I feed that assumption by, well, being home all the time.
I know it’s not how our parents did it, and I hate even asking. I wish I could do it all and make it look effortless. And I wish I didn’t need kudos for doing things most people expect from a mom. But I’m waving a white flag and admitting I’m only human. I’m telling you how much I need you, and if I keep going at the pace I’ve been on, I will break. And that would hurt you, the kids, and our family.
Because, let’s face it: you need me, too.”
After the video went viral, Yvonne filmed another thanking everyone who read it and addressed the biggest question it raised: Did the letter work?
“Yes, absolutely. Communication works — most of the time,” Yvonne said with a laugh. “I told [my husband] all the stuff I’m doing on the back end that he had no idea about. And then he told me all the concerns and the stress he’s been having as a new father. Things that I had no idea about. It was so eye-opening, and I’m so grateful for it.”
Taking care of a newborn baby is mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausting. For the first four months (at least!), new parents have to dedicate every part of themselves to caring for this young life.
There’s little time for self-care during this chaotic period, let alone a moment to be fully present with a partner.
A blogger who goes by the name Celeste Yvonne is the mother of a toddler and a newborn and wrote a revealing open letter to her husband asking for more help with their children. It’s going viral because it paints a very real picture of what it feels like to be a mother who feels stuck doing everything.
It’s also important because it gives specific ways for parents to support each other.
Dear Husband,
I. Need. More. Help.
Last night was hard for you. I asked you to watch the baby so I could go to bed early. The baby was crying. Wailing, really. I could hear him from upstairs and my stomach knotted from the sound, wondering if I should come down there and relieve you or just shut the door so I could get some desperately needed sleep. I chose the latter.
You came into the room 20 minutes later, with the baby still frantically crying. You placed the baby in the bassinet and gently pushed the bassinet just a few inches closer to my side of the bed, a clear gesture that you were done watching him.
I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to launch an epic fight that very moment. I had been watching the baby and the toddler all damn day. I was going to be waking up with the baby to feed him all damn night. The least you could do is hold him for a couple of hours in the evening to I can attempt to sleep.
Just a few hours of precious sleep. Is that too much to ask?
I know we both watched our parents fulfill the typical mother-father roles growing up. Both our mothers were the primary caretakers and our fathers were relatively hands off. They were excellent dads, but they weren’t expected to spend a significant amount of time changing diapers, feeding, caring, and tending to the kids. Our mothers were the superwomen who maintained the family dynamics. Cooking, cleaning, and raising the children. Any help from dad was welcome, but unexpected.
I see us falling into these family dynamics more and more each day. My responsibility to feed the family, keep the house clean, and take care of the kids is assumed, even as I return to work. I blame myself for most of it too. I have set the precedent that I can do it. And in truth I want to. No offense, but I’m not sure I want to know what a week’s worth of dinner would look like with you in charge.
I also see my friends and other moms doing it all, and doing it well. I know you see it, too. If they can manage it, and if our mothers did it so well for us, why can’t I?
I don’t know.
Maybe our friends are playing the part in public and secretly struggling. Maybe our moms suffered in silence for years and now, thirty years later, they simply don’t remember how hard it really was. Or maybe, and this is something I berate myself over every single day, I’m just not as qualified for the job as everyone else. And as much as I cringe just thinking it, I’m going to say it: I need more help.
Part of me feels like a failure for even asking. I mean, you do help. You are an amazing father, and you do a great job with the kids. And besides, this should come easy to me, right? Motherly instincts, no?
But I’m human, and I’m running on five hours of sleep and tired as hell. I need you.
In the morning, I need you to get our toddler ready so I can care for the baby and make everyone’s lunches and drink a cup of coffee. And no, getting the toddler ready does not mean plopping him in front of the TV. It means making sure he went potty, giving him some breakfast, seeing if he wants water, and packing his bag for school.
At night, I need an hour to decompress in bed knowing our toddler is asleep in his room and the baby is in your care. I know it’s hard to listen to the baby cry. Believe me, I know. But if I can watch and pacify the baby for the majority of the day, you can do it for an hour or two at night. Please. I need you.
On weekends, I need more breaks. Times where I can get out of the house by myself and feel like an individual. Even if it’s just a walk around the block or a trip to the grocery store. And some days when I’ve scheduled swim class and play dates, and it seems like I’ve got it all under control, I need you to offer to lend me a hand. Or suggest I go lay down during the kids’ naptime. Or start putting away the dishes without me suggesting it. I need you.
Lastly, I need to hear you’re grateful for all I do. I want to know that you notice the laundry is done and a nice dinner has been prepared. I want to know you appreciate that I breastfeed at all hours and pump when I’m at work when it would be easier for me to formula feed. I hope you notice that I never ask you to stay home from your networking events and sport activities. As the mom, it’s assumed I’ll be home all the time and always available to care for the kids while you’re out and I feed that assumption by, well, being home all the time.
I know it’s not how our parents did it, and I hate even asking. I wish I could do it all and make it look effortless. And I wish I didn’t need kudos for doing things most people expect from a mom. But I’m waving a white flag and admitting I’m only human. I’m telling you how much I need you, and if I keep going at the pace I’ve been on, I will break. And that would hurt you, the kids, and our family.
Because, let’s face it: you need me, too.”
After the video went viral, Yvonne filmed another thanking everyone who read it and addressed the biggest question it raised: Did the letter work?
“Yes, absolutely. Communication works — most of the time,” Yvonne said with a laugh. “I told [my husband] all the stuff I’m doing on the back end that he had no idea about. And then he told me all the concerns and the stress he’s been having as a new father. Things that I had no idea about. It was so eye-opening, and I’m so grateful for it.”
Zoe’s story, “Removed,” has been seen by millions of people.
It was previously shared by my amazing Upworthy colleague Laura Willard. We got just a tiny taste of what it was like for kids in foster care, right after being removed. Specifically, a little girl named Zoe and her little brother Benaiah.
My wife and I, foster parents for the past year, even shared the original with our adoption worker, who passed it along to the entire agency and, then, it took off like wildfire among those people as well.
This is part 2 of that story, and it hits hard.
(Yes, the video’s on the long side at about 20 minutes. But it’s worth the watch to the end.)
She describes her life as a cycle, interrupted by a tornado. She’s a foster child. I don’t think I need to say any more.
So … let’s accompany that with 9 uncomfortable — but enlightening — facts below. There are only nine bolded, but within those headers, there are several more facts.
1. There are an estimated 400,000 kids in foster care right now.
Some are awaiting adoption. Some will go back to their parents. Others will age out or, sometimes, run away.
And PTSD can mimic a lot of other mental illnesses, and it can manifest as nightmares, flashbacks, fight-or-flee responses, anger outbursts, and hyper-vigilance (being on “red alert” at all times), among other symptoms.
3. The average age of a foster child is 9 years old.
They’re just on that edge of childhood, and chances are, it’s been a pretty messed up childhood at that. Trauma does that.
8% are in institutions, 6% are in group homes, and only 4% are in pre-adoptive homes. Read that again — only 4% are in pre-adoptive homes.
5. Some of foster children experience multiple placements. In some cases, eight or more.
That’s eight homes that they move into — and out of. And just consider … that means they lose not just adults and other kids with whom they are establishing a bond, but friends, schoolmates, pets.
6. The average foster child remains in the system for almost two years before being reunited with their biological parents, adopted, aging out, or other outcomes.
8% of them remain in foster care for over five years. Of the 238,000 foster kids who left the system in 2013, about half were reunited with parents or primary caregivers, 21% were adopted, 15% went to live with a relative or other guardian, and 10% were emancipated (aged out).
And if you add that up, year after year, hundreds of thousands of foster youth will have aged out of the system. What does that look like? “You’re 18. You’ve got no place to live and no family. Good luck — buh-bye now!” One-quarter of former foster kids experience homelessness within four years of exiting the system.
They are four-five times more likely to be hospitalized for attempting suicide and five-eight times more likely to be hospitalized for serious psychiatric disorders in their teens.
Based on that set of statistics alone, it’s in the public’s interest (ignoring, for a second, the interests of those kids) to help them through their lot in life and spend resources making it all work much better for everybody before it gets to that point. Right?
So there’s a lot to be angry about in this whole messed up situation. But this next thing? My blood boils.
What’s one of the biggest risk factors in families whose children are placed in foster care?
Together with homelessness and unemployment, it’s a main contributing factor. It happens all the time. The fact that it’s far easier for a parent to be accused and investigated for neglect or abuse because of simple things like lack of access to a vehicle, or a working refrigerator, or the ability to get a kid to a doctor’s appointment — that has a lot to do with this. Tie that to the link between drug abuse and poverty and between poverty and child abuse … well, you can see where this is going.
And in a country where one-third of children are living in poverty (hint: the good ol’ U.S. of A.), imagine how that affects the number of kids being removed and placed into foster care.
I’ll end this with a bit of hope through my story.
My kids went through something a lot like the kids in the clip above before they came to live with us. We’ve been through the ringer in ways that we’re going to have to talk about one day because it’s not just that the kids have been challenging — they have — it’s that the system itself has been more challenging.
The entire system — from agencies to government entities to social workers to even the schools — seems like it’s designed to fail these kids and the families who are attempting to help. It’s almost designed not to work. There, I said it.
But that doesn’t mean we won’t fight to make it better for everybody. We most definitely will.
As for us, we’re just a few weeks away from becoming the legal parents to these kids, and we’re extremely happy to be right here, making it happen. And they seem quite happy to be our kids. Along the way, we fell in love with them, and we can’t imagine life without them.
But to be totally honest … if we’d have known how hard it was going to be when we started this journey, and if we could somehow turn back the clock and NOT do it … well, would we have actually gone forward with the process?
I take that back. I won’t be totally honest here. I will simply let you decide.
Here are some places to help, if you’re so inclined.
AdoptUsKids.org is a place to start if you’re considering fostering or adopting.
My Stuff Bags is a really cool and inexpensive way to help foster kids by gifting them actual luggage, duffel bags, and more, so that they don’t travel from home to home with garbage bags for their belongings — or nothing at all.
CASA for Children offers legal help and advocates for foster kids through a network of volunteers.
This story was written by Brandon Weber and originally appeared on 07.17.15
Zoe’s story, “Removed,” has been seen by millions of people.
It was previously shared by my amazing Upworthy colleague Laura Willard. We got just a tiny taste of what it was like for kids in foster care, right after being removed. Specifically, a little girl named Zoe and her little brother Benaiah.
My wife and I, foster parents for the past year, even shared the original with our adoption worker, who passed it along to the entire agency and, then, it took off like wildfire among those people as well.
This is part 2 of that story, and it hits hard.
(Yes, the video’s on the long side at about 20 minutes. But it’s worth the watch to the end.)
She describes her life as a cycle, interrupted by a tornado. She’s a foster child. I don’t think I need to say any more.
So … let’s accompany that with 9 uncomfortable — but enlightening — facts below. There are only nine bolded, but within those headers, there are several more facts.
1. There are an estimated 400,000 kids in foster care right now.
Some are awaiting adoption. Some will go back to their parents. Others will age out or, sometimes, run away.
And PTSD can mimic a lot of other mental illnesses, and it can manifest as nightmares, flashbacks, fight-or-flee responses, anger outbursts, and hyper-vigilance (being on “red alert” at all times), among other symptoms.
3. The average age of a foster child is 9 years old.
They’re just on that edge of childhood, and chances are, it’s been a pretty messed up childhood at that. Trauma does that.
8% are in institutions, 6% are in group homes, and only 4% are in pre-adoptive homes. Read that again — only 4% are in pre-adoptive homes.
5. Some of foster children experience multiple placements. In some cases, eight or more.
That’s eight homes that they move into — and out of. And just consider … that means they lose not just adults and other kids with whom they are establishing a bond, but friends, schoolmates, pets.
6. The average foster child remains in the system for almost two years before being reunited with their biological parents, adopted, aging out, or other outcomes.
8% of them remain in foster care for over five years. Of the 238,000 foster kids who left the system in 2013, about half were reunited with parents or primary caregivers, 21% were adopted, 15% went to live with a relative or other guardian, and 10% were emancipated (aged out).
And if you add that up, year after year, hundreds of thousands of foster youth will have aged out of the system. What does that look like? “You’re 18. You’ve got no place to live and no family. Good luck — buh-bye now!” One-quarter of former foster kids experience homelessness within four years of exiting the system.
They are four-five times more likely to be hospitalized for attempting suicide and five-eight times more likely to be hospitalized for serious psychiatric disorders in their teens.
Based on that set of statistics alone, it’s in the public’s interest (ignoring, for a second, the interests of those kids) to help them through their lot in life and spend resources making it all work much better for everybody before it gets to that point. Right?
So there’s a lot to be angry about in this whole messed up situation. But this next thing? My blood boils.
What’s one of the biggest risk factors in families whose children are placed in foster care?
Together with homelessness and unemployment, it’s a main contributing factor. It happens all the time. The fact that it’s far easier for a parent to be accused and investigated for neglect or abuse because of simple things like lack of access to a vehicle, or a working refrigerator, or the ability to get a kid to a doctor’s appointment — that has a lot to do with this. Tie that to the link between drug abuse and poverty and between poverty and child abuse … well, you can see where this is going.
And in a country where one-third of children are living in poverty (hint: the good ol’ U.S. of A.), imagine how that affects the number of kids being removed and placed into foster care.
I’ll end this with a bit of hope through my story.
My kids went through something a lot like the kids in the clip above before they came to live with us. We’ve been through the ringer in ways that we’re going to have to talk about one day because it’s not just that the kids have been challenging — they have — it’s that the system itself has been more challenging.
The entire system — from agencies to government entities to social workers to even the schools — seems like it’s designed to fail these kids and the families who are attempting to help. It’s almost designed not to work. There, I said it.
But that doesn’t mean we won’t fight to make it better for everybody. We most definitely will.
As for us, we’re just a few weeks away from becoming the legal parents to these kids, and we’re extremely happy to be right here, making it happen. And they seem quite happy to be our kids. Along the way, we fell in love with them, and we can’t imagine life without them.
But to be totally honest … if we’d have known how hard it was going to be when we started this journey, and if we could somehow turn back the clock and NOT do it … well, would we have actually gone forward with the process?
I take that back. I won’t be totally honest here. I will simply let you decide.
Here are some places to help, if you’re so inclined.
AdoptUsKids.org is a place to start if you’re considering fostering or adopting.
My Stuff Bags is a really cool and inexpensive way to help foster kids by gifting them actual luggage, duffel bags, and more, so that they don’t travel from home to home with garbage bags for their belongings — or nothing at all.
CASA for Children offers legal help and advocates for foster kids through a network of volunteers.
This story was written by Brandon Weber and originally appeared on 07.17.15
Years ago, a friend went to a party, and something bothered him enough to rant to me about it later.
And it bothered me that he was so incensed about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. It seemed so petty for him to be upset, and even more so for me to be annoyed with him.
Recently, something reminded me of that scenario, and it made more sense. I’ll explain.
The party was a house party.
One of those parties people throw if they’re renting a good-sized house in college. You know the type — loud music, Solo cups of beer, and somebody doing something drunk and stupid before the end of the night.
At some point, my friend had occasion to use the bathroom. When he went into the bathroom, he was disgusted to see that the hostess had left a basket of menstrual hygiene products on the counter for guests to use if needed.
Later, when my friend told me about it, he wrinkled his nose and said, “Why would she do that? Guys don’t want to see that!”
When I suggested that she was just making them available in case someone needed them, he insisted they could be left in the cabinet or under the counter. Out of sight, anyway.
I wish I’d had, at the time, the ability to articulate what I can now.
To me, this situation is, while relatively benign, a perfect example of male privilege.
A man walks into the bathroom and sees a reminder that people have periods. And he’s disgusted. He wants that evidence hidden away because it offends his senses. How dare the hostess so blatantly present tampons and pads where a man might see them? There’s no reason for that!
Someone who gets a period walks into the bathroom and sees that the hostess is being extra considerate. They get it. They know what it’s like to have a period start unexpectedly. The feeling of horror because they’re probably wearing something they don’t want ruined — it is a party after all. The sick embarrassment because someone might notice, especially if they’re wearing light-colored clothes, or worse, they sat on the hostess’ white couch.
The self-conscious, semi-nauseated feeling of trying to get through a social event after you’ve exhausted every avenue to get your hands on an emergency pad or tampon, and you’re just hoping to God that if you tie your jacket around your waist (you brought one, right?), keep your back to a wall, clench your butt cheeks, squeeze your thighs tightly together, and don’t … move … at … all — you might get through the evening, bow out gracefully, and find an all-night convenience store with a public restroom.
Or maybe they came to the party during their period, but didn’t bargain for the flow to suddenly get that heavy. Or they desperately need a tampon, but their purse or bag is in a room where a couple is not to be disturbed. Maybe they don’t know the hostess well enough to ask if they can use one. Or they don’t know anyone at the party well enough to ask. Or they figure they can make do with some wadded up toilet paper or something.
Whatever the case, they walk into the bathroom and hear the hostess saying, “Hey, I know what it’s like, and just in case, I’ve got your back.” They see someone saving them from what could be a minor annoyance or a major embarrassment.
The hostess gets it.
The person who just walked into the bathroom? They’re either going to see that the person throwing the party is super considerate or they’re going to be whispering “thanks to Jesus, Krishna, and whoever else is listening” because that is a basket full of social saviors.
But to the guy who wrinkled his nose, it’s still offensive that those terrible little things are on the counter, reminding his delicate sensibilities that the playground part of a person is occasionally unavailable due to a “gross” bodily function that he should never have to think about.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s a tiny thing. It’s a tiny annoyance for the man and a more significant, but relatively tiny, courtesy for the person with their period. After all these years, my friend has probably forgotten, but I never have. As a person whose life is partially governed by a fickle uterus that can ruin an evening faster than a submerged iPhone, his story has stuck with me.
How can you be so offended by a small gesture that has zero effect on you, but could make such an enormous difference to the person who needs it?
It occurs to me now that this is a small but effective illustration of how different people can see the world.
It’s part of the same thought process that measures a woman’s value through her bra size and her willingness to have sex with him — that everything about us is displayed or hidden based on how men perceive them or what he wants to get from us. Unattractive women should be as covered as possible, while attractive ones shouldn’t be hiding their assets from male eyes (or hands, or anything else he wishes to use).
A woman who isn’t smiling is an affront to him because it detracts from her prettiness, despite the fact that there might be a legitimate reason for her not to smile (or more to the point, there isn’t a legitimate reason for her to smile). Her emotional state is irrelevant because she’s not being pretty. It’s the line of thinking where a man blames anything other than cheerful sexual consent on the woman being a bitch, being a lesbian, or — naturally — being on her period. Everything we do, from our facial expressions to our use of hygiene products, is filtered through the lens of “how it looks to a man.”
It’s the line of thinking where a small gesture from one person to another, an assurance that someone else understands and will help without question or judgment, a gesture that could save a person’s evening from being ruined is trumped by a man’s desire to see an untainted landscape of pretty, smiling women with visible cleavage and bodies that never bleed.
And people wonder why we still need feminism.
This story was written by L.A. Witt and originally appeared on 8.12.16
Years ago, a friend went to a party, and something bothered him enough to rant to me about it later.
And it bothered me that he was so incensed about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. It seemed so petty for him to be upset, and even more so for me to be annoyed with him.
Recently, something reminded me of that scenario, and it made more sense. I’ll explain.
The party was a house party.
One of those parties people throw if they’re renting a good-sized house in college. You know the type — loud music, Solo cups of beer, and somebody doing something drunk and stupid before the end of the night.
At some point, my friend had occasion to use the bathroom. When he went into the bathroom, he was disgusted to see that the hostess had left a basket of menstrual hygiene products on the counter for guests to use if needed.
Later, when my friend told me about it, he wrinkled his nose and said, “Why would she do that? Guys don’t want to see that!”
When I suggested that she was just making them available in case someone needed them, he insisted they could be left in the cabinet or under the counter. Out of sight, anyway.
I wish I’d had, at the time, the ability to articulate what I can now.
To me, this situation is, while relatively benign, a perfect example of male privilege.
A man walks into the bathroom and sees a reminder that people have periods. And he’s disgusted. He wants that evidence hidden away because it offends his senses. How dare the hostess so blatantly present tampons and pads where a man might see them? There’s no reason for that!
Someone who gets a period walks into the bathroom and sees that the hostess is being extra considerate. They get it. They know what it’s like to have a period start unexpectedly. The feeling of horror because they’re probably wearing something they don’t want ruined — it is a party after all. The sick embarrassment because someone might notice, especially if they’re wearing light-colored clothes, or worse, they sat on the hostess’ white couch.
The self-conscious, semi-nauseated feeling of trying to get through a social event after you’ve exhausted every avenue to get your hands on an emergency pad or tampon, and you’re just hoping to God that if you tie your jacket around your waist (you brought one, right?), keep your back to a wall, clench your butt cheeks, squeeze your thighs tightly together, and don’t … move … at … all — you might get through the evening, bow out gracefully, and find an all-night convenience store with a public restroom.
Or maybe they came to the party during their period, but didn’t bargain for the flow to suddenly get that heavy. Or they desperately need a tampon, but their purse or bag is in a room where a couple is not to be disturbed. Maybe they don’t know the hostess well enough to ask if they can use one. Or they don’t know anyone at the party well enough to ask. Or they figure they can make do with some wadded up toilet paper or something.
Whatever the case, they walk into the bathroom and hear the hostess saying, “Hey, I know what it’s like, and just in case, I’ve got your back.” They see someone saving them from what could be a minor annoyance or a major embarrassment.
The hostess gets it.
The person who just walked into the bathroom? They’re either going to see that the person throwing the party is super considerate or they’re going to be whispering “thanks to Jesus, Krishna, and whoever else is listening” because that is a basket full of social saviors.
But to the guy who wrinkled his nose, it’s still offensive that those terrible little things are on the counter, reminding his delicate sensibilities that the playground part of a person is occasionally unavailable due to a “gross” bodily function that he should never have to think about.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s a tiny thing. It’s a tiny annoyance for the man and a more significant, but relatively tiny, courtesy for the person with their period. After all these years, my friend has probably forgotten, but I never have. As a person whose life is partially governed by a fickle uterus that can ruin an evening faster than a submerged iPhone, his story has stuck with me.
How can you be so offended by a small gesture that has zero effect on you, but could make such an enormous difference to the person who needs it?
It occurs to me now that this is a small but effective illustration of how different people can see the world.
It’s part of the same thought process that measures a woman’s value through her bra size and her willingness to have sex with him — that everything about us is displayed or hidden based on how men perceive them or what he wants to get from us. Unattractive women should be as covered as possible, while attractive ones shouldn’t be hiding their assets from male eyes (or hands, or anything else he wishes to use).
A woman who isn’t smiling is an affront to him because it detracts from her prettiness, despite the fact that there might be a legitimate reason for her not to smile (or more to the point, there isn’t a legitimate reason for her to smile). Her emotional state is irrelevant because she’s not being pretty. It’s the line of thinking where a man blames anything other than cheerful sexual consent on the woman being a bitch, being a lesbian, or — naturally — being on her period. Everything we do, from our facial expressions to our use of hygiene products, is filtered through the lens of “how it looks to a man.”
It’s the line of thinking where a small gesture from one person to another, an assurance that someone else understands and will help without question or judgment, a gesture that could save a person’s evening from being ruined is trumped by a man’s desire to see an untainted landscape of pretty, smiling women with visible cleavage and bodies that never bleed.
And people wonder why we still need feminism.
This story was written by L.A. Witt and originally appeared on 8.12.16
Sorry to all of the people out there who might have their game ruined by the following story. But the truth is that if you have a beard, you should take the necessary precautions to ensure that the next person you kiss doesn’t wind up with a major case of beard burn.
A disturbing video went viral on TikTok featuring a woman with red spots on her chin who claims to have “kissed a guy with facial hair.” The clip caught the attention of Dr. Muneeb Shah, known on TikTok as “The Derm Doctor.”
PSA: clean your beards @Rylee Kriete #dermdoctor #impetigo
The Derm Doctor is incredibly popular on the platform, with over 18 million followers. His response to the red-faced woman racked up over 19 million views.
In the video, the Derm Doctor confirmed that making out with someone with a big beard can cause problems. “Clean your beards,” the doctor said before explaining that they can cause minor cuts in the kiss recipient’s face. Further, if the beard isn’t clean, bacteria can be transferred to the open wounds, resulting in impetigo.
Impetigo is a bacterial infection that can be cleared up with antibiotics.
The good news is that this infection of passion can be prevented with a bit of prevention. “On the receiving end, using a barrier cream or moisturizer before contact can help,” Dr. Kautilya Shaurya, MD, board-certified dermatologist at Schweiger Dermatology Group in NYC, tells Real Simple. Dr. Shaurya also suggests that those with beards keep them short, moisturized and clean so they don’t injure their partners.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Cookie settingsACCEPT
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
