Sometimes I Wish I Had Had an Abortion.

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10 Years Since Easy A; a Retrospect

A deep dive into the whorephobia and sexual double standards that Easy A exposes, and reinforces..

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It's been ten years since Hollywood has graced us with the glorious movie that is Easy A. Starring one of our favorite "not like the other girls" Emma Stone, who's not afraid to be goofy or silly, women everywhere saw it instantly as a smart film that was feminist, charming, and sweet. Obviously, it would never come close to beating Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, but it did it's best. It was a movie that challenged slut-shaming, that opened up new discussions about sexuality and relationships, and was a refreshing alternative to the battered and worn out hero of Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada (if she even IS the hero...) and our ironic love of Mean Girls and Clueless.


The moment I saw Easy A, I loved it. I loved that first tongue-in-cheek nude shot of Olive at her best friends Rhiannon’s parents house. I loved the lazy southern california vibe, which nestled in its comfortable arms teenagers that were way too cool and fashionable to actually be teenagers, and all of whom lived in houses that we could only dream of. I loved the witty dialogue, the parents that were cool beyond belief, and Olive's adorable awkwardness that all of us could only too easily identify with. It was gorgeous, full of light and life, with cultural nods to polyamory, swinging, exploring sexuality, and adopting. It felt like a movie made in Berkeley, and with a main character who becomes the heroine because she lets boys tell everyone that they've slept with her, it seemed eons away from the slut-shaming in such beloved films as Grease, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Juno (although this is one of the very rare films that lovingly and tenderly breaks down slut-shaming and teenage pregnancy to make the beloved heroine one of the best loved characters in modern teen films). But now, 10 years on, I find myself wondering if it was really just a film about fauxpowerment, and that maybe I shouldn't have been so enthusiastic.

For all of it's hilarity and silliness, the film's true themes are dark and dismal. While it starts out in good fun (who hasn't spent a weekend doing absolutely nothing while screaming Pocketful of Sunshine at the top of their lungs?) it quickly goes to dark depths. While Olive uses an innocent enough lie to get out of a weekend with her best friend, she realizes that it also comes with some positive male attention. For the first time, some of the guys at school are looking her way, and she kinda likes it. And it's through an act of the most generous kindness that she helps her friend Brandon out, by pretending to sleep with him at a classmate's party. The reaction to both is swift, and the punishment for Olive is almost immediate. While Brandon is instantly elevated in social status and is finally welcome to join the guys, Olive finds herself alone, and the temperature of the attention has shifted. Now it feels judgemental, and crude. She doesn't feel good about herself anymore, and the only thanks she gets in return for helping Brandon out is a gift card. Sex and sexuality is presented as something that can only benefit men, and while women are encouraged to be sexual, once Olive "crosses the line" she is perceived in a negative light. What then transpires is a classic example of slut-shaming, in which she is ostracized by many people at the school, while simultaneously men were still entitled to the privilege of easily taking advantage of her to improve their own social status. Their rise is directly correlated to her fall, so yea, fuck sexism and the double standard of patriarchy.

Olive leans into it, and as many of us can agree, even if it's a fake one we've all had some sort of slutty phase. Afterall, if we can't beat them, why don't we just join them? All my life I was told to wear conservative clothing, to lower my eyes when men stared at me, to smile when I was told to smile, and more. If men are going to sexualize me, didn't it make sense to at least control the narrative? That way, when men harass me for being sexual, at least I can pretend that I am inviting it. And while women such as Leora Tanenbaum write that the only way to counteract slut-shaming in our current cultural climate is to dress more modestly and try to not aggressively or openly 'ask for' harassment, and while some forms of fauxpowerment play right into patriarchy's hands by 'giving us permission' to be sexual objects, by carefully thinking about our intentions we can find a careful balance by which we are empowered and safe.


While I secretly loved that Olive gets paid for her labor through various gift cards and coupons, the shame that comes with being a sexualized woman also runs rampant and in the end, the cost is higher than the gains. The terrible cousins of slut-shaming are blackmail, coercion, and victim blaming and disbelief, and Olive finds new lows in which all the friends she's helped out are nowhere to be found. But in her female community, she does find support, enough to tell-all in a webcast, and ride off with her stunning male lead into the perfect Ojai sunset.


We are all meant to leave this film feeling good, but while the real villain of the movie is the sexual double standard that elevates men for their sexuality while putting down women for their sexuality, the more obvious and visible villain is the members of the christian abstinence club on campus. They're a foil that convinces us that religious conservatism is to blame instead of institutionalized whorephobia and sexism. The movie itself is even a bit of a shallow scam as well, because while we walk away feeling good and cute about everything, our heroine didn't *actually* have to sleep with anyone to gain her reputation. Get it guys, haha, it was just a joke. Don't worry, I'm still chaste and sexually pure, I'm not an *actual* slut.

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Maybe this realization was a bit too deep for most people who watch this move, but nevertheless it exists and we should be careful about idolizing movies that actually reinforce negative stereotypes against women who want to have pleasurable sexual experiences. Along those lines as well, we should probably also extend an olive (forgive me the pun) branch to people who *don't* want to have sexual experiences too.... Marianne, Olive's enemy and head of the abstinence group, is vilified for being prudish and sexually chaste, but as Jaclyn Friedman points out in her book Unscrewed, not wanting to be sexual should be just as empowering and valid as choosing to be sexual, and that it's the sexual double standard that has us seeing both options as equally bad.


So where do we go from here? I do think the climate of feminist film is slowly changing. Movies like Booksmart and Animals are at the forefront of exploring female friendship, sexuality, and relationships in ways that are empowering, free, and safe. I've loved Euphoria and what that's done to explore the complexities of young adult relationships, particularly through the toxicity of high school. More than anything though, as we consume our media it's important to ground ourselves and ask, how does this make me feel, and who does this make me want to be? In a world that punishes women for being cold and punishes them for being slutty, find out what makes you feel good, and defend it with your life.

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Poetry The Whorticulturalist Poetry The Whorticulturalist

Treasure

An erotic poem by Deveree Extein…

Explore every inch of me like

uncharted territory

come in,

bask in the sunlight of my skin

dive headfirst into my stormy sea

let my waves pull you down beneath

the treasure you’ve set out to find

is hidden here,

between my thighs


Deveree Extein is a poet, and painter based out of southeastern Louisiana. Her first poetry collection, Flicker: poems, is available with online retailers. When Deveree is not scribbling or sketching, she’s usually reading, watching films, or playing with her cat, Luna.

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Interviews The Whorticulturalist Interviews The Whorticulturalist

Life-Drawing Nude Women Pieces with Shannon Elizabeth Gardner

A conversation with artist Shannon Elizabeth about her process, her inspiration, and the direction of her future work.

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Thank you once again for agreeing to this interview! We are very excited to see your work in our magazine. To begin, how did you get your start as an artist, and what do you think drives you in your present work?

When life started is when I became an artist. I have always been this way; creative, passionate and honest. From an early age I enjoyed drawing and had a curiosity in the macabre, and my interest in horror continues to intrigue and inspire the work I create. Every piece has a motivation to reach the extreme and address the taboo. 


What is your creative process like?

When I create work, my process is to draw several pieces in ink, then paint and color them with the same watercolor palette. By doing this, multiple pieces share the same color scheme and creates a cohesive body of work regardless of subject matter. I enjoy using India Ink to convey a burnt, grunge-like appearance to my work and I often blacken the edges to give the piece a worn, tattered look. I also enjoy working from a dirty palette and reusing dried up wells of color from past works. 


Does the present political/social culture today inform your work, and if so, how?

This situation has presented me with a lot more time to work on new ideas. My technique or amount spent on a piece has not altered much. I have found time to complete pieces like unfinished collages as I find that collage work takes such a long time to arrange that I often abandon them. After abandoning the project I usually realize that the piece is finished and doesn't need any alteration or addition.


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What transformative experiences have you had that have shaped your creative output?

I have always been interested in horror and the macabre. The realization that my work is strongest when my focus is regarding morbidity came while studying at the University of Wisconsin Stevens Point. After a few projects in my junior year of college (2014) I developed a distaste for my work, something I never experience. I began working with acrylics and oils, creating portraits and landscapes. I never fell in love with the two mediums and struggled for a bit to create meaningful work. Soon after I dabbled back into something I had always enjoyed, watercolor and ink. Immediately I created a skull that then set the tone for my future work.


Who are your biggest influences?

Tim Burton is my biggest influence.  He is the epitome of German Expressionism in the modern era. I grew up admiring his artwork and enjoying his unique way of storytelling. The illustrative quality of his work inspires my work to be alluring, haunting and grotesque. He creates such strong feelings within so few lines, a true illusion of beauty. 

I also study the art history, the occult, sacred places, cryptozoology, criminology, mythology, fairy-tales and folklore.

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A lot of your work is both erotic and haunting. Tell us about the relationship between the two in your work.

All art is arousing at default. I often associate enjoyment of artwork to the Earthly pleasure of lust. I believe there is always a sensual concept when creating nudes and life drawings. I find when drawing the female body there’s a fantasy of falling in love with your creation. Every nude holds an emotional bond with the artist. 


Using black India Ink as the darkest tone allows my work to have a cohesive quality and crisp haunting aesthetic. I usually do not feel a piece is complete without it!  These collections of life drawings are some of my most favored pieces as they represent the beauty in minimalism as well as exploring the admiration of nature and flaws. The use of India Ink and watercolor assists the viewer to observe the Asian aesthetic Wabi Sabi; appreciation of imperfections. 


How has art transformed your relationship with feminism/to yourself as a woman?

My artwork has provided me with a platform to inspire and lead others. I feel comfortable in this field since the arts have always favored quirks and originality. With support of my audience and peers I feel free to embrace my weirdness and liberate freedoms. The arts have encouraged me to never be enslaved to injustice. 


How do you see art, and in particular feminine or erotic art, changing the world?

I do not believe erotic art will change the world since the world has habitually focused about sex. Some beliefs and morals may suppress the urge and iconography of the human body but erotica and the naked human figure will always be the most sought after. 



Do you have any advice for other female artists?

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My advice would be to stay confident and passionate about your unique quirks. If you don't know what makes you different, do some soul searching, there must be something that makes you irresistible and distinctive. The unordinary is delicious. Once you master your own ‘muchness’ it will reflect in your work and you'll enjoy everything you create. If you don't, give it a day and you'll probably love it in the mourning. 

Anything else you would like to talk about?

I just returned home from a month-long residency in Lapua, Finland. While there I focused on my work and created over 30 pieces; including drawings, paintings and small sculptures. The deep forests and dark landscape of the Scandinavian Winter further inspired the ethereal mood of exploring the aesthetic within imperfections and the unearthed beauty of ink work and watercolor. I am finding strength in these techniques that imitate the look of nature, implying crisp texture and impression of depth. I believe it is the best way to convey the look and feel of the natural world.


Shannon Elizabeth Gardner is a graduate from the University of Wisconsin - Stevens Point with a Bachelors in Studio Art and a Minor in Art History. Shannon's interest in the macabre began while studying nature and the paranormal. The ethereal mood of her work reaches the extreme and addresses the taboo. Through her process she explores natural and organic techniques used to imitate nature and discover Earth's imperfect beauty. Stippling and cross hatching imitate the aesthetic of change through time. Her use of watercolor, line and dot work assists the viewer to observe the Asian aesthetic Wabi Sabi; appreciation of imperfections. 

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Poetry The Whorticulturalist Poetry The Whorticulturalist

Euphoria

A delicious erotic poem….

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in her skin, I found solace

in her scent, I found paradise

in her lips, I found life


something changed, 

as we began to consume each other

as we got lost to the rhythmic dance of our tongues

for this euphoric high, we didn’t need to set our lungs afire


to be intertwined, breast to breast

my leg over the majestic lump of her butt 

my hand resting on the small of her back

her hand clinging to my waist


and the perpetual wetness between her legs,

was euphoria on its own




NHYLAR is a 24 year QPOC who currently resides in Toronto. She uses poetry as a creative outlet for her existential rage. She writes about queer representation, living away from home, intimacy, existentialism and anything that intrigues her. 


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Things we Love The Whorticulturalist Things we Love The Whorticulturalist

Erotic and Sensual Artists I Am Loving Right Now

Our favorite erotic art right now… support local artists! Support your own sensuality!

If sheltering-in-place has made you realize that your walls/tables are looking a little blah, now is a great time to give your home a little bit of a spruce up with some delicious art that will perk up your spirit and your blood pressure to your special lady friend below the belt. Especially when everyone is reeling as a result of the coronavirus, having some bright inspiration in your life is the mood boost we all need, and you can give yourself a pat on the back for supporting some wonderful artists.

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  1. Pansy Ass Ceramics

    I love Pansy Ass. With a bubbly-pop aesthetic, their ceramics are simultaneously lush, with baroque gold detailing and floral motifs that Marie Antoinette would’ve swooned over. I am in love with their mugs and their vases, but they sell everything from key chains and christmas tree decorations to enormous serving platters of men rimming each other, perfect for your first post-COVID brunch.

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2. SIND Studio

I absolutely love these simple and yet elegant multi-use basins from Sind Studio, based in Tel Aviv. Taken from Michealangelo’s David, these planters are sure to be not only incredibly useful for storing your fruit, planting some succulents, or tossing your keys into, but make a huge visual statement that is both classical and erotic.

3. Petites Luxures

Petite Luxures is currently on exhibit in San Francisco and while the gallery is closed due to the shelter-in-place, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I spent a lot of time hanging out in front of the windows salivating. I love the clean style and implied tenderness of each illustration, truly a work of effortless and modern eroticism.

4. Noemiah

This darling creator from Montreal is kicking ass in the world of ceramics and textiles. I absolutely love her clean and bright aesthetic, and her tiny bud vases are sure to bring you a smile every time you see it.

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5. Verameat

I first ran into Verameat at a little store in Williamsburg and her work was so captivating that I had to jaywalk to see it…. almost getting hit by a cab in the process. If it had happened, it would’ve been worth it. Her jewelry and clothing is sarcastic and powerful, and bonus points if you follow her instagram for lots of photos of her grouchy cat.

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6. Julia Ballenger

I had the pleasure of meeting Julia at the West Coast Craft fair in San Francisco last year, and her ceramics are only outshone by her incredibly friendly and warm personality. I especially love her salt wells, which look like little women taking baths. The salt crystals are such good facsimiles for bubbles that it makes me smile every time I cook.

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Editorial The Whorticulturalist Editorial The Whorticulturalist

Shaming Sex Workers Makes You a Bad Feminist

How shaming women for earning money on OnlyFans just makes you look bad.

Nope, just nope.

Nope, just nope.

It’s really annoying that we have to keep saying this but nevertheless we will persist in screaming: shaming sex workers doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a villain.

COVID 19 has disrupted national economies, thrown entire communities into turmoil, and has left our cities looking like wide-shots from I am Legend. Millions of people around the world have lost their jobs, while people employed in sectors of the economy that were previously ignored or taking for granted, such as grocery clerks, postal service workers, public transportation officers, and more are now finally being appreciated for their value to our societies as essential workers. The virus has highlighted the disparities between the people at the top, who are sheltering-in-place in country houses with swimming pools and an army of staff, and a struggling majority that now has to figure out how to pay rent or take care of children while trying to maintain jobs, if they're lucky enough to still have one. It has caused us to reexamine the weaknesses in our societies, such as the paper thin/non-existent social welfare nets we have in place, what access to healthcare should really look like, and how do we serve the most vulnerable in our communities.

Amongst some of those vulnerable are sex workers, many of whom rely on face-to-face meetings with their clients as their primary form of income. A lot of them now face eviction or worse as they make decisions between trying to earn their income and trying to keep themselves and their loved ones safe from the deadly virus. Online communities of sex workers have been thrown into a panic, of trying to develop new strategies to stay connected with their clients while riding out waves that, like the rest of us, seem to have no clear end in sight.

One strategy is that many in-person sex workers, many of whom already have large online followings, are moving towards digital work. In particular, many are flocking to OnlyFans.com, a platform sort of like instagram for which subscribes pay monthly fees to receive online content. In a recent company email, OnlyFans revealed that they’ve seen a 75% increase in signups since February, a huge upmarket tick, and many long-time established escorts on twitter have posted about starting new OnlyFans pages to help them continue to generate income.

It’s not just well-established sex workers though; many young women who’ve found themselves out of work because of Coronavirus are turning to online sex work for the first time as a way to make ends meet and put food on the table, according to this huffpost article.

Inevitably, the whorephobic backlash was quick and ruthless. This article by Julie Bindel in the Spectator glosses over the fact that sites like OnlyFans are taking the power back from big-porn moguls like XVIDEOS and Pornhub, where most content is free because it's illegally stripped from paid websites, a result of which is that very little of the money goes to content creators. and instead tries to inspire horror and disgust by describing the process of producing requested content (surprise! Sex work is work!) or exploits the fact that these women were already vulnerable because of the greater socio-economic shortcomings of our societies lack of fairly-distributed resources. Her attempt to put OnlyFans content creators in the same category as victims of sex trafficking is not only harmful, but downright degrading and dangerous to those who find empowerment from being able to earn an income during these hard times. As one twitter user commented on the article, 'there's nothing empowering about having no source of income during a pandemic."

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This meme puts in simple relief the hypocrisy of many 'feminists' who think that by shooting down sex workers in the name of empowerment, they are helping them. But shaming sex workers doesn't make you a good feminist. Helping women in need who are struggling during a pandemic is. Supporting women who find their work empowering is. Supporting women who don't find their work empowering (who says work has to be empowering, and why do people mythologize sex work as HAVING to be an empowering act? Sometimes sex work is really rewarding, but sometimes sex work is just a job, just like any other job) is. Supporting work that keeps women in their homes is feminist.

In a time when we are seeing many of our most vulnerable populations being the ones at the most high-risk during this pandemic, is signaling your sense of moral superiority really the most productive use of your time? Shooting down people who are already struggling is hardly classy. It perpetuates the myth that sex workers are victims of sex trafficking (they are not, and in fact many of the loudest anti-sex trafficking voices are sex workers) or that sex work itself is not a valid form of labor. the SF Chronicle gave voice to several women last week in the ways in which OnlyFans and other online platforms have become places to give them financial stability and security during these times. Because you're in charge of your own content you can make your own decisions about what you feel comfortable posting, and at what sort of frequency. As one woman said, "“I think OnlyFans has this huge appeal because it feels very authentic. You follow me on Instagram, you see all the nonsexual content I post, you know my dog’s name and you know my band and now you get to see this other side of me.” If you are struggling and you have the energy and resources to generate some income during the worst recession since the Great Depression, then girl, you do you. And if you're not in the space to be able to do that, cheer on those that can. Feminists support each other. <3

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Editorial, Featured The Whorticulturalist Editorial, Featured The Whorticulturalist

Beginning in a Time of Corona

A short statement about where I am, and why I’m starting this magazine.

Photo credit to @cottonbro

Photo credit to @cottonbro

The weekend before shelter-in-place, I went on four different dates with four different men. If sexual interactions could be saved up like water in a camel's hump, I wanted to make sure I was full up. I dated like I was going to be shot into space the next day. I kissed like I was getting shipped to war, and I had the feeling that, as I said goodbye to each man, I was obliged to light a candle in the window.

Living in San Francisco is like being a third grader at a school designed by drag queens. The city is obsessed with its own culture of work hard play harder. There are putt-putt golf courses featuring holeside bottle service, bowling alleys hidden underneath concert venues, and underground raves that take place in hastily rearranged WeWork spaces. At 29, the city made me feel ancient and out of touch. I was already falling behind in every aspect of my life, and my weekends had begun to revolve around avoiding missing out on the “Next Big Thing.” This desperation extended to the men in my life, who, while on dates with me, would always look over my right ear as if a slightly better, more successful or better-networked woman would appear out of nowhere that would be more worthwhile of their time. Dating was less about personal connection and romance as it was an algorithm that needed to be optimized. And I had fully bought into the system with a devil-may-care, volume-focused approach to tindering that would've put Mae West to shame.

There was a desperation and strange nostalgia that tinged my last four dates. Meeting up at bars felt tender and fragile. My boys and I would spend long silent minutes observing the chaos and camaraderie of people crowding in for their drink orders like we were watching black and white films of our grandparents dancing. Things used to be so good, we thought to ourselves, while still living it. We clutched at each other and squeezed hands like we'd just struck the iceberg, and later on in the night when we were in bed, we would face each other and cuddle, pretending we could feel the icy black water lap around our ankles.

The following Monday I opened the windows at midnight to listen to the city shut down. The streets had already been empty for hours, and for the first time since moving to the city, I could hear the birds. I went to bed alone, thinking that it would be a good time to masturbate, but not having the emotional energy to give myself that small reprieve.

The next weeks were strange ones. I started having incredibly vivid sex dreams about people I went to highschool with, but was too dorky to talk to. I started sexting with a guy I had hooked up with three years previously. I brutishly and forcefully sent unsolicited nudes to the guys I had been seeing, with varying levels of joy at one end of the scale to one guy on the other end telling me, 'I know you meant to cheer me up, but this is just more depressing.' I started to fantasize about elaborate rituals for washing hands in which men I couldn't see would come over and shower immediately, changing into sterilized robes that I had someho prepared. We would rub soap over our hands for hours on end and squirt purell into each others palms, gazing iris to iris while we rubbed it in and waited for it to dry. We would then carefully, delicately intertwine our fingers.

I started going for walks late at night so I could avoid as many people as possible, but walking past all the shuttered and boarded up restaurants and bars made me cry. I pictured the neighbors starting to refer to me as the weird sobbing girl. The highlight of the second week was starting to communicate with my neighbors across the street with post-it note missives and incredibly detailed drawings. I started to chat with the woman on the third floor, and found out her cat was named Oliver. One night at the end of one of my walks I stood under her window to feel a little closer to her and looked at my own dark apartment. I saw that my neighbors above and below me had all also been communicating with Oliver's owner, and I felt a deep sense of betrayal that could only be equaled by my childhood trauma of watching the Sonics move to Oklahoma City. A different neighbor across the street with a penchant for wandering around his apartment shirtless also caught my attention. He asked for my number via paper towel and permanent marker taped to his window, and we've been flirting ever since. I rearranged my desk for a better view, my apartment being higher than his I suddenly feel protective over him. I start doing my hair and posting more on instagram. I started walking around my apartment naked.

It's week three and I find myself unspooling gently. I feel constantly high, although it's been four days since my last edible. I've started to get to know my neighbors so intimately that now I feel like I can trust them with their own privacy again. They will be safe without my care, without my vigilent watching. I'm texting the boys less, and masturbating more. I've taken up painting more, and reading the books I always said I would read later. I started to write without irony about setting boundaries with men. And I started to gather little dust bunnies of courage from under all the responsibilities I had been ignoring and started planning this magazine.

This magazine was something I had wanted to do for a long time, and I had even had the name treasured since childhood, when my dad would let me read chain letters outloud to him while I spun around in his office chair. "You can lead a whorticulture," one read, "but you can't make her think." In another email, my dad chuckles as I say aloud, "a good cowgirl always keeps her calves together." It took me a long time to understand these jokes, to read these as ideals or cautionary tales, and I carefully grafted them onto my personality as a form of performative chasteness. It took me longer to shed that mantle in exchange for a short skirt and a pair of Docs. I think about feminist labor, and consider the pros and cons of charging my boyfriend for every time he has to ask when our anniversary is. I think about how much I spend on shampoo and then look up projected earnings for girls on onlyfans.com. I think about how I used to write but I've been too scared, and too traumatized, to write for years now. I think maybe this is the time to take the plunge. When the world is falling apart, the space is created for radical change. In this space, perhaps it is the time in which we can tend to and cultivate the cultural institutions we live under, and perhaps grow something a little more beautiful.

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