Rainbow Brite had a nice home on my desk, she was the girl of bondage bear, and they were very happy cuddling next to my lamp.  One day Rainbow mysteriously appeared on the stairs.  A few days later her I found her dress in my bed.  She had been kidnapped!   Turns out our kitten, Harlequin, aka Little Bit had taken Rainbow to his rape den.  All attempts to save Rainbow and return her to mistress Bondage Bear have failed.  One day I actually managed to catch the rapist in action:

Riot Grrrl was a brief movement in the early 1990s which focused on allowing girls to be grrrls.  It’s agenda addressed violence and oppression of young women.  Focusing on emotional, physical and sexual abuse as well as domestic violence and rape.  The movement also address how girls were raised to be complacent about these issues, and in general.  This was also at the beginning of the third wave feminist movement which moved the focus to flaws in gender norms, sexuality as well as beginning to address feminism cross culturally.

I reached adolescence right after the peak of the Riot Grrrl movement.  My first forays into the internet were filled with riot grrrls.  While I wasn’t super into the music, I did dig some of the politics.  While the actual history of riot grrrl was only easily found on the internet, riot grrrl was alive and well in almost every counter culture movement I participated in.  It was actually an expectation that I would call myself a girl.  It was permission to scream, get dirty, get angry, be fun and be passionate.  Terming myself a young woman would disallow this kind of behavior.

So while many of us had lost touch with what it meant to be a grrrl, and where that philosophy had arisen from, we embraced it.  We rolled around in the dirt, trampled the city in ripped tights and combat boots.  It was an amazingly freeing way to be, and even through getting married, finishing up college, and beginning to go to work I looked forward to the days I could be dirty and loud.  I remained a grrrl at heart.

Thing is, I’m not a girl anymore.  In those in between years when my body, sex drive and mind were all new to me, there was no doubt that womanhood was still far out of reach.  Reverting to grrrl, allowed me to keep a sense of control over my development.  Stating that those behaviors were a part of the female identity, and were how I would learn and continue to develop was important.  I learned a whole lot.  Now I’m in my late twenties, and I don’t identify with the grrrls I meet.

They’re young, into experiencing, they lack dedication to long term goals.  They’re often not as assertive as they think they are, they don’t know nearly as much as they think they do.  I know this in part because I was there no so long ago.  At the same time growing up has not quieted me down a bit, I am as loud as ever.  I own pleather 10-holed steel-toed combat boots, and they’re muddy.  Not much has changed.

Except for that whole experienced piece.  At first it really confused me, I was taught to embrace being a grrrl forever.  Though I was ceasing to identify with all that a grrrl was.  Instead I was feeling more entangled in the mysticism of being a woman.  Through being so loud and crazy in my youth I really got to know my body.  I began to know what I liked, and how to look good, feel good, and approach these things with a sense of deliberateness and maturity in a way a grrrl can’t.

I woke up one day to realize I was a woman different than the mainstream has known.  Though not very different from my mother, the hippie and 2nd wave feminist.  Like her, I wear what I want to wear, and do what I want to do.  No doubt I’m evolved in that I put more emphasis on sexuality, though it is much the same.  No one told me I could grow up to be this way.  I got lucky and stumbled into it.

It makes me wonder about how my fellow grrrls are fairing.   Many have disappeared.  Out of an entire collective of websites only a handful still exist, only 1 or 2 have been updated in the past year.  Of my friends in high school I know several have turned to alcohol or drugs, twice that number dropped out of college.  In the generation behind mine I know that many are drifting from job to job, relationship to relationship, who knows how many gave up on being a grrrl entirely.

How many of us got lost in wondering what came after grrrl?  While it is powerful to speak up for yourself, be in charge and spontaneous there is a certain amount of growth that is absent.  While I do despise the  classic tutoring of young women, no one taught us grrrls to be anything but.  I know that recently I have felt more drawn to taking younger generations under my wing.  Teaching that there is a way along the path from grrrl to woman, without becoming complacent to social norms.

In a generation where the term girl has been moved into mainstream culture without the history of its power I can’t see this being anything but necessity.  We need to know where we came from, and how to take the next step to being women with the upbringing of grrrls.  We can’t grow up and teach when we’re addicted, uneducated, or have simply forgotten who we are and where we came from.  We won’t get anywhere unless we empower ourselves and aren’t afraid to grow.

Here are some resources, and I do wish there were more:

• Wikipedia on Riot Grrrl
• Grrrl Zine Network
• From Girl to Woman to Grrrl
• Wikipedia on 3rd Wave Feminsm

Books:

• Girls Guide to Taking Over the World
• Riot Grrrl: Revolution Girl Style Now!

What isn’t a secret, though I don’t readily talk about is that I am a recovering amnesiac.  When I was 10 my family moved, and it seemed extremely convenient to “forget” everything that came before.  One of my strongest memories was one of my last.  My parents driving me to my old elementary school during recess right before the move so I could sneak in and empty out my desk.  I was afraid the entire time that I would run into someone, because I didn’t have a single friend there.

A lot of my reasons for being, and the heart of my community service is based on the concept of recovery, as that has been the center of my life.  By 12 I was dealing with severe depression, at 15 I met my first therapist, at 17 I started having flashbacks, and at 19 I was in and out of the psychiatric hospital.  I often forget where I’ve come from, and I realize most people who encounter me day to day have no clue about my past.  While overall I am upbeat and have a positive sense of self, I’m still haunted.

The issue with amnesia is that while I don’t remember the facts of situations, my body remembers the emotions, and still reacts to triggers.  So often I cope by shutting out my emotional responses completely, if I don’t feel anything, I can’t feel anything bad.  Except, then I end up flooding, and feel a torrent of emotions all at once.  I’ve gotten stronger over the years and have increased my emotional range, and am triggered less frequently.

Though the more I feel day to day, the closer I am to history.  The more I let in, the deeper it goes.  I experience more triggers, and at times flashbacks.  This process becomes a force all on its own, and it builds up momentum.  If I try to stop it, I get crushed beneath it, all I can do is keep being wiling to move through it.  Sometimes, that becomes incredibly hard.  I spent a lot of late September/early October digging.  I was reacting to situations without knowing why, or knowing exactly what I felt.

Now for the past couple of weeks I’ve been having trouble getting good sleep.  Night terrors, waking up frequently.  It’s getting harder to stay in a good mood, and I can feel something knocking on the door.  Never have I gotten to answer the door to the face of a friendly ghost.

It is hard to not be paralyzed.  Even more so to not be afraid, the more I fear the more I color my memories and my present with negativity.  Though I struggle to continue to be active, and to continue to feel.  To be everyday without anxiety.  To be everyday without fearing that I won’t be tomorrow.  Since I have given into that fear in the past, I have shutdown, I have stopped progressing, and while I picked up and kept moving eventually.  That fear remains.

Often, I accuse the wrong enemy for my troubles.  While I began forgetting, numbing, and pushing away to survive my enemies.  Those coping skills have now become the enemy, and my fear has become yet another.  Perhaps fear really is the chief contender in all of this, and in the end causes the most setbacks and pain.  Because if I fear enough, I really can’t.  It is only if I believe that I really can get through this.

I forget that I am now an adult with a graduate degree, a house, and a car.  I get paid to walk the halls of hospitals, I am no longer locked inside of them.  Even though I still like pain, I have not put a blade to my own skin out of hate or avoidance in over three years.  That these days I am as sane as anybody, and stronger than most.  Despite all the attempts made to shatter me, I always return whole.  Saying is much easier than doing, though at least it is a first step.

Recovery is a never ending process; we hurt and heal until we die.  In psychotherapy there is currently a modal shift to a recovery focus.  Rather than looking at the client as being “broken” and needing to be “fixed,” the field is moving towards viewing the client as already on the path towards healing and the therapist as simply a guide along the way.  I explain this to my clients several times a day.  I know the complex expression of dread, grief and relief, as well the nervous laugh and sudden change in topic to the weather that signals the session is over.

While my hurt is no longer acute, it’s still there.  There are also days when all that I’ve been through seems unjustified, that I shouldn’t have needed to ever experience so much agony to live a normal life, only to realize the irony is that the only way around not judging myself and my own actions is to recognize that much in life does not know justice.  Much in life is unfair or makes no sense.  It’s a simple truth that brings equal comfort and pain in extremes I have difficulty reconciling.  It’s the kind of state of mind that causes us to create gods to make it easier for us to digest.

Eventually I just get over myself and recognize that to try haggle with what simply is is simply a waste of time.  That what I have at this point in time is a lot of experience managing my still very shattered mind.  If I want my life to continue to grow and improve I need to be willing to use that experience and keep working on it.

Truth is we’re all pretty broken.  We’re all born made of glass, and if we’re lucky we get through life with only a few chips here and there.  Glass is strong stuff, however the right angles make or break it.  We’re all trying to repair ourselves and deal with our damage.  Each fissure and shard is as unique as every person.  So unique we can’t really draw comparisons between one another.

So I will always be in a state of repair.  I will always be breaking.  That is the process of life; to pick up the pieces.  While I cannot control or change the past, nor necessarily avoid all harm in the present or future, I choose what I fix.  I choose what breaks are worth the pain of setting.  I decide what I’m strong enough to take.

Recently my life moved from a state of crisis to one of maintenance.  The beauty of crisis is that we tend to only be able to deal with the immediate, and are able to take on super human amounts of trial and pain.  Our bodies and minds adapt as a means of survival.  My crisis was to get to a point where I had the ability to continue to heal and to grow.  Now I’m there, and all of that special ability is gone.  Addressing issues is now just an option.  Most will not cause another crisis, and none will help resolve one.  Really the only motivation I have to continue to address them is all of the mayhem I went through to get to this place.  I decided there was a reason to be here.

There are moments when I am writing in the abstract where I wonder if I am skirting past coping with my own issues or if I am simply coming to a state of acceptance that the details of how I hurt are meaningless, that sitting with these little truths about life are actually how I cope, to be able to sit with an answer, even if it’s just for a moment.

My work day today kept me in the city, so on the way home I went by my former anarchist collective. I still love these guys and believe in everything they do. Sadly, I’m often too busy being kinky to venture out to see them.

They’re always excited to hear about what I’m doing, and I talked about how I’m looking to apply anarchist ethics to the ways in which kinky folks interact and learn from each other. While catching up with my old comrades I realized that my crazy plan from two summers ago was actually working. That I was finally feeling like I was giving back to my old home that had given so much to me.

I remember the heartbreaking moment when I realized my activism was taking a different path, that I had reached the point of diminishing return with a group I had grown so close to, and put so much energy into. I knew that while I had learned a lot from the anarchist community, that my knowledge was not best applied there. I left heading out into a vague territory of sex positivity, erotica and kink.

What is commonly misunderstood about anarchy is that it isn’t about a lack of order. It is about a lack of hierarchy. Forming organizations, and social groups, on a concept of mutual aid and self responsibility. We actually love structure and finding sane ways to communicate and teach ideas. Anarchy is also not just about government, it is about re-envisioning culture. Addressing any social norm or construct that is fundamentally flawed.

My divorce woke me up to many flawed norms regarding human sexuality. Since intimacy, sex, and relationships have always been central and grounding features of my life it seemed worthwhile to address the issue. All that thinking led me here, where I’m traveling to sex positive venues and have kinksters over at our house several times a month.  Living in 24/7 kinky and poly relationships.

Though now my ethics and atypical lifestyle aren’t just about me, and keeping me happy. They’re not just about my close friends and partners. They’re about my community, about our world, and educating anyone willing to listen that there are other ways to be.

Next year is going to be exciting, we’re planning to start a skillshare out of our home by the end of this year. It was a big conversation piece this afternoon with my fellow anarchists.  How to apply new methods of social organization to new methods of sexuality.  I don’t know where that’s going, but I’ve got the sense that it’s somewhere good.

My mind is still processing a lot of the past month and a half, during this time fire has been my comfort.  Many nights recently have been spent playing with my torches.  While at the moment I may have a lack of words, there is no lack of flame:

One of the primary differences between vegans and vegetarians is that veganism forces the issue of all non-food animal products.  While good vegetarians try to avoid leather, and buy cosmetics not tested on animals, this is an expectation with veganism.  There are tons of things we don’t often think would be difficult to buy without animal cruelty.  As I switched my wardrobe over to fall this seemed like the opportune time to point out a few common hard to find products, and some label reading tips:

Winter Coats: I bought my last winter coat two years ago, and my eyes are still recovering from reading all the tiny labels.  Many coats contain wool, and often times it’s only in the liner, or is only a small percent of the weave.  Since I no longer have functional pockets in my coat; it seemed time for a new one.

Every winter vegan forums go nuts on this topic, and will link to every vegan winter coat on the market.  However, I wanted a pea coat.  Also, when I purchase new, frequently used, semi-expensive items I prefer to buy from vegan shops and ones that value human rights as well.  The coat on the right came from Alternative Outfitters.  What is nice about them is that they promote vegan friendly companies, and do their best to insure fair labor conditions as well.  On top of that!  They’re also affordable, and sell a wide range of items.  Which means fewer orders, and lower shipping costs; not to mention shipping is free on orders over $100.

Fall/Winter Shoes: Specifically shoes for work.  It seems nearly impossible to find plain canvas shoes; everyone assumes I want to wear polka dots or plaid to my professional day job.  In the summertime I have some luck finding sandals (primarily DSW) as well as evening shoes.  The fall, however, is a time for panic and anxiety.  This time around I found a nice pair of mary jane style flats from Alternative Outfitters (and thus got free shipping).  Last year though, I bought my big bad combat boots from Mooshoes.  In New York they’re actually a store; I will not tell my vegan nerd dreams of going to NY. Mooshoes can get pricey, however, their shoes tend to last.

TIP: if out and about shoe shopping, look for the sticker, often on the sole, and look for “Man Made Materials” check that this is for the balance and upper. Most vegans consider this a go.

Cosmetics: This is a subject that can make any vegan dizzy.  Not only is there animal testing to worry about there are animal products as well.  Before I continue, I need to confess that I do not include insect products in my veganism, especially in make-up.  Some hardcore vegans would say I am not vegan because of this.  I simply find them very hard to afford without breaking the bank, also I break that rule whenever I get ants or fruit flies.  There are a TON of vegan cosmetic lines.  I suggest heading to your local natural food store for a sampling.  They also tend to be very expensive.

I do highly recommend Dr. Bronner’s soap if for no other reason than to read the label.  The other issue with vegan cosmetic lines is that many do not have a primary mission of being vegan; but rather one of being all natural/organic.  While they tend to clearly state which products are vegan; label reading will still happen.  My bias is that this is an overpriced racket.  For veganism to be viable it needs to be affordable, good news is that it can be.

Many cosmetic companies have sworn off animal testing.  I am not saying these guys are the most moral, but it is a really nice step.  The first cosmetic giant to step away from animal testing was Revlon.  L’Oréal on the other hand is a big offender, and known to be dishonest in it’s labeling.  They also carry other brands (small print will tell you if it’s L’Oréal).  Revlon does contain animal products, however, usually just silk and carmine (both from insects).  There are frightening lists of animal ingredients, however many have multiple sources.

TIP: When checking labels, look for milk derivatives and animal oils (such as lanolin) first; if they’re not present then use your own judgment.

St Ives is a great line for face scrubs, shampoos, body washes and lotions.  Recently I discovered they will put “no animal ingredients” on products that, well, don’t have animal products.  St Ives products are nice, easy to find, and cheap.

Other household products: Household cleaners, laundry detergent, even dish soap are often made by corporations with poor practices when it comes to animals and the environment.  I went broke trying to get all ethical products.  For everything except laundry I try to use Dr. Bronner’s.  It can be found wherever there are hippies.  For serious, in a pinch I go to the local head shop to buy soap.  I use it as an all purpose cleaner for counter tops, floors, and dishes.

On animal testing lists, and ingredient lists.  Use your best judgment.  We live in a non-vegan world, and I know I at least, am not rich.  On some points compromise is necessary, we chose how we honor our ethics in our day to day choices.  Personally, I go for the most ethical option first, however, priorities change with things like cost and accessibility.