Image: Chase (Kiersey Clemons) and Jo (Jacqueline Toboni) from Easy.
Today, we’re asking the big life questions. No - not the “what happens when you die?” variety, but the ever more pressing “why do you wanna bang who you wanna bang?”.* Is your sexual identity an innate characteristic, laying dormant from birth awaiting your ‘discovery’? Or can it be influenced by social, cultural and environmental factors? Can it vary over your lifetime? Or does it simply, kinda like, depend?
Answers to these questions aren’t straightforward, but what is clear is a need for expansive and textured narratives about sexual identity as well as the eradication of guilt and shame for loving who you love. Here, Ariel Caward, 24, and Carrie Hou, 23, unpack these questions in relation to their experiences.
If this discussion sparks any of your own thoughts – feel free to message us. Our inbox is always open for questions and deep chats.
Ariel: The question ‘is sexuality a choice or is it innate?’ isn’t something that can really be definitively answered. Experiences of sexuality are so directly underpinned by the social, political and cultural contexts that shape how a person is positioned in the world, how they’re received by society, how much space and safety they have, and so on. The ability to explore, test or challenge the ‘innateness’ of one’s sexuality is definitely a privilege of it’s own. I identify as queer and gender fluid, though I pass for cisgender (which I’m super uncomfortable with).
I’ve spent the past solid chunk of my life in a relationship with a cis man, and while this has meant that I've experienced exclusion in the past from the LGBTQIA+ community, I can also recognise the ways in which the guise of monogamous heteronormativity rewards me under patriarchy. In a lot of ways the appearance of my relationship and gender has cushioned a space from which to self-direct my experience of sexuality.
Carrie: When we think of the idea of sexuality being a choice we need to look at the way sexuality intersects with social structures, such as gender, class and race.
First of all, let’s be clear. Sexuality is fluid, preferentially rated on the Kinsey scale from 1 (only boning the opposite sex) to 8 (only boning the same sex) and a wonder nebulous middle (2-7) of boning who ever the fuck. With such an increased understanding to sexual preferences beyond heterosexuality and a push for LGBTQIA+ rights, our world can certainly feel as if it’s reached a place of post-sexuality. We aren’t gay or heterosexual, but whatever we feel. Whilst this is certainly a testament to how far we’ve progressed – we must remember that queer acceptance is unevenly distributed. Hence the ability to self-actualise – to ‘choose’– sexuality is wholly tied to the privilege, identities, communities and environment one find’s themselves in. I am a bisexual Chinese-Australian and that roaring desire to eat pussy never much felt like a choice to me.
Ariel: Yes! It’s interesting because I grew up in a variety of different remote areas before moving to the city for high school. I lucked out with my context of middle-class whiteness, which has obviously afforded me a great lump of privilege, although limitations to self-expression arose for me in conservative family contexts and in adolescent social/sexual dynamics. During the long-winded and somewhat polarising experience of discovering my sexuality, I definitely felt this pressure to find what was ‘innate’.
My identity formed with an enmeshed element of fear that said, “find out what you are quickly so you can learn how to own it and protect it.” I came out as bisexual when I dated my first girlfriend at 14 and felt congruent with that label for a few years, but I constantly experienced people wanting me to prove my sexuality - one of my first boyfriends actually broke up with me because I was “just gay”.
From bisexual I then came out as gay, straight, bisexual (again), pansexual and now queer, each time feeling some sense of truth, finality and innateness. I guess I experience sexuality as both fixed and fluid - contextually influenced by each chapter in my life, my differing expressions of identity, my environments/social groups and, most crucially, my gender. I've experienced same-sex masculine attraction, same-sex feminine attraction, opposite sexual attraction (both ways) and non-binary.
Carrie: Growing up, my sexuality never felt like a choice because sex education was lacking and homophobia is rampant in Chinese communities. The history of homophobia in China parallels the West. Sexual conservatism, religious institutions and stringent patriarchy that enforces gender roles and the heterosexual family unit creates homophobia. However, LGBTQIA rights and education can’t move forward because the government in China banned any sort of protest or mobilisation, and the press is wholly controlled by the government. Sexuality and sex education cannot be talked about publically in Chinese society in the same way it has been in the West.
Of course, this has been changing as of late. Taiwan - which is technically a part of China but has demanded independence for a long time - recently ruled in favour of same sex marriage - a step above Australia! Still, change is slow. When Chinese immigrants move to Australia, these cultural sentiments remain, though there are, of course, many pro-LGBTQIA+ Chinese communities and individuals in Australia.
As a result, my family and I do not talk about sex. As far as I’m aware I was my parents popped a $2 coin in a baby vending machine whilst chanting to the dragon gods and I came out the other end. With the Confucian idea of the family unit being the bedrock of Chinese culture, loving a man and pumping out his children were the extent of my knowledge and acceptance of sexuality growing up. Queer women of colour tend to not only experience homophobia/patriarchal need to conform but also cultural guilt. As a result, any inkling to sexually explore or desire to deviate from heterosexuality was quickly internalised or squashed - coped by avoiding hugs from women until I was eighteen and convincing myself that my young obsession with Delta Goodrem was solely based on her musical abilities.
When you grow up in an environment where homosexuality is not accepted and you cope with this through militant self-policing, self-hatred and internalising homophobia, but still find yourself attracted to the opposite sex – sexuality sure as shit doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels like this innate dirty little secret that you get good at denying over and over again until whoops you’re kissing a girl. However, when you find yourself in an open environment that accepts and discusses sexuality, individuals are given the ability to explore, to self-actualise – to choose their own sexual identity.
Ariel: Oh my god, I also had such a massive crush on Delta! I find your experience super interesting though, expecially from a PoC perspective and how culture and historical context has played such a significant role in the type of family discussion (or lack there of) around sex and sexuality. So many things influence the rate of cultural change toward LGBTQIA+ equality, and it's clearly so much more complicated than simply being exposed to progressive ideas. I can imagine that it would be so difficult to balance/navigate the respect and love of one’s cultural traditions while also pushing for growth and inclusivity of all identities existing within that culture. I guess the definition of “choice” in this question is a bit weird no matter what the context.
I adopted the label queer fairly recently to better articulate the unfixed feeling of what my queerness means to me. Owning the term queer has also allowed me to reject the idea that I need to be living in external 'proof' of my sexuality in order to be accepted by the right social groups and demographics. I like being queer because it's as ambiguous as I feel and affords a fixed space to play in without warranting explanation or justification - two things I've felt pressure and shame for having to defend my entire life.
Sexuality changes the way a body can move through the world and what that body has access to, which can feel highly threatening if one's experience of sexuality is ambiguous or deviates from the channels of expression that have already been carved out. That being said, it is 100% indicative of the incredible affordances I've had like education and class status that have allowed me to even begin to theorise my own experiences.
Image: Courtney Crimson (Michelle Selene Ang) from 13 Reasons Why.
Carrie: Environment and education is everything! For example, post-sexuality exploration is exclusive to the middle-class or above city-dwellers. I think those educated have an arsenal of vocabulary at their disposal – heterosexual, homosexual, pansexual, bisexual, queer, omnisexual, polysexual, sexually exploring, MarionCotillardsexual – to accurately describe that strange feeling in the bottom of their chest they find themselves attracted to someone.
The middle and upper class have “choice”, because education and language gives it to them. The middle and upper class have choice, because they’re not immediately worried about basic material needs. City-dwellers can access more spaces that are pro-LGBTQIA compared to those in the country. However, if you grow up working class or come from the country, this language, understanding and ability to freely pursue or self-actualise sexuality is not available because heterosexuality is the prevailing norm.
Ariel: Yep, definitely. Sexuality being a choice doesn’t really matter and saying whether it’s wholly innate or not is far too black and white to encompass everyone’s intersecting experiences.
Carrie: Exactly! What matters is that we teach people that it’s okay to love someone of the same sex or opposite sex or both. We need to create an environment where people don’t feel guilt or shame for loving who they love.
*Not all people experience sexual attraction. Members of the LGBTQIA+ community and allies have a responsibility to end asexual erasure and stigmatisation! Aces are ace <3
Great news! A sexual health hotline for Victorians launches this month
Author: Sophie Berrill.
Every sexually active and curious person knows the desperate demand for answers from your mates in moments of sexual panic.
“Should I take the morning after pill if I’m already on the pill?”
“Am I meant to get pap smears two years after I turn 18? What if I’ve only had sex with one person?”
“Wait, you’re supposed to wee after sex?”
“Where the fuck do you buy dental dams?”
It is such a relief to have pals you can talk out your sex-related concerns with, but sometimes it’s the clueless leading the clueless (no thanks to the sex education a lot of us received – or didn’t receive). Even when friends are preeetty sure their advice is accurate because they’re reading out verbatim the instructions in their own pill packs, everyone ends their advice with “I don’t know though”, in the event their guidance helps along an unwanted pregnancy.
Enter Victoria’s first sexual and reproductive health helpline for women: 1800 My Options. It launches March 19 and it is here to be your fully informed best friend for when you need an answer to all questions about pregnancy, contraception and sexual health. As well as providing information, the experienced staff who run the hotline can direct callers to services including counselling, contraception, sexual health clinics, abortion providers and more. All of this advice is free and your information confidential.
The Victorian Labor government funded 1800 My Options as part of Victoria’s first-ever Women’s Sexual and Reproductive Health Strategy, to help eliminate barriers impeding women’s access to reproductive and sexual health services. Women’s Health Victoria, an independent, not-for-profit organisation, will run the helpline.
The Executive Director at Women’s Health Victoria, Rita Butera says, “[The helpline] will provide Victorian women with easy access to contraception, pregnancy options and sexual health information, assisting them in navigating an often sensitive and complex service system.”
Although this is an initiative being introduced primarily for women, a Victorian State Government media advisor, Matilda Edwards Jézéquel, has confirmed that men with relevant concerns who want to use the helpline will also receive assistance. The helpline will be equipped for anyone, regardless of their gender or sexual identity, and can refer people to more specific services if necessary.
So if you live in Victoria and have a question, do not hesitate to call 1800 My Options. I certainly know that is where I will be directing my friends when I’m not 100 per cent sure (aka almost always).
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Hey I was just wondering if you had any advice on how to have more confidence with sex? I feel that my insecurities with my body really stops me from being able to be confident in sexual situations & I get so caught up in how I look & my weight that it totally stops me from being able to enjoy it & be in the moment. It also makes me avoid sexual situations a bit too just as a way to prevent myself from dealing with these insecurities & I'm sick of it, as I really want to be able to enjoy sex
Hey lovely! Ahh, sexual confidence. Everyone has their challenges, and really, it can take years or even decades to build. And that’s okay. The commitment to the cause is key, and just knowing that you will grow, and how you feel about your body and sexuality will change, and just being open to that journey is a really important step. Don’t expect it to look linear, or think that your confidence arc will just be one continuous climb – it might be, if you’re some kind of blessed wizard, but generally sexual confidence is like growing any internal virtue or skill – that shit takes time and effort to build. But given the rewards will be more pleasurable and connected sex, you know, it’s a worthy goal.
I guess the first thing to remember is that sex is about so much more than just how you look, or how you think you look when you’re doing it. But if your mind does get fixated on that (which is v normal), in terms of when you’re masturbating or having sex with another person, you can try focusing on something else: the sounds (play some tunes! There’s a Drake sex playlist on Spotify I can highly recommend), textures (silk sheets or robes or nice underwear waddup), the smells, or the sensations in your body… pretty much anything you can bring your mindfulness to in the moment, even if it’s literally just for a moment. Our society is both media saturated and body obsessed, which can in turn make us overly fixate upon how sex ‘looks’… when sex is actually a much more complicated, deep and nuanced experience than being a purely visual one.
Other practical advice I could give would be around maximising your comfort. For example, I used to dress up in something that made me feel sexy and comfortable to masturbate in, back when I had a real mental block/uncomfortability around it. You could apply this to sex, and get into something you’re comfy in. Like if you have that one outfit that makes you feel like fiyah, that’s your outfit. Also there’s no rule about having to be fully naked to have sex. Just work with where you’re at. You could incorporate lots of nice pillows, or start with a lot of gentle touching, candles… just make your space feel decadent and then just go at your own pace, even if that feels slow, and accept wherever you’re at. ‘Sex’ for you right now could just mean sensually rubbing lotion into your body slowly in a radical act of love and acceptance, and then maybe working up the confidence to inviting someone to rub that lotion in for you ;) Practical, kinetic activities can be so great as you can’t just ‘think’ your way to loving or accepting or connecting with your body.
Then, from an intellectual and academic perspective, I would suggest getting around the writings of great body positivity and/or fat acceptance activists. I don’t know what your body looks like, but really regardless of how your body looks, there is a richness of analysis to be gleaned from resources exploring the issue of body image and radical acceptance whatever your size. You can check out Brodie Lancaster’s writing, Bevin Branlandingham’s blog and the StyleLikeU YouTube series. You can also seek out content made by folk of your gender identity (cis, trans, non-binary and so forth), race, and/or size, because you may find you particularly resonate with people who’ve encountered and overcome similar challenges.
Finally, unfollow social media accounts that make you feel low. Be ruthless - friends, family or celebrities, if it triggers self-doubt, unfollow. Your self-care comes first.
I hope this helps and good luck on your journey <3 Feel free to message us again with what works for you/what doesn’t!
I don’t know who that is next to him, but being a good white ally is nodding and pointing vigorously while you allow a person of color to make an argument without interrupting them. Also BLESS Leslie Odom Jr. forever.
We asked five young feminists what their goals are for 2018
Because God knows we need some inspo after 2017.
For many, 2017 was an exhausting year. If it had a physical form, 2017 was one of those arcade sideshow games rigged in favour of you never winning. It was rain on a day when sunshine was forecast. It was coming home from the grocery store with everything but the one thing you actually went in for.
Whilst there were certainly some wins, what with the global #MeToo campaign marking a mass cultural conversation on the reality and ubiquity of sexual harassment and assault, and the same sex marriage survey resulting in a “Yes” vote for Australia changing the laws on marriage equality, these campaigns and dialogues can come at a mental health cost for those they most affect. A big thank you goes out to all the LGBTQIA+ activists and feminists out there - yes, it can be exhausting, but also, so, so rewarding when you check in with what drove you towards the movement in the first place.
To reinvigorate the energy tank, we figure that a new year marks the opportunity for reflection and renewal, and to kick things off we at Young Optimist asked five awesome young feminists what they have in mind for 2018...
1/5 Katie Stow (left), 23, Online News & Entertainment Writer for Cosmopolitan, Harper’s BAZAAR and Elle Magazine
What are your personal or professional goals for 2018?
This year I really want to focus on putting out more feminist, opinionated pieces at work, driving bigger, important conversations that may be difficult to pitch and get across the line, but need to be heard. On a personal level, I really want to reach legitimate happiness about my body. I feel like a lot of the time I am somewhat faking my body positivity, but I want to actually be proud of it. I think how I'm going to get there is learning more and more about what my body can actually do - everything from basic biological functions to how much weight I can squat.
In terms of your feminism, what do you see as your main priority within the movement for 2018?
My main focus is to become more informed about women's mental health. I know that it's a problem for men too, but I really want to know how to uplift and support my friends (and strangers) who struggle with personal mental health battles so that they can continue being brilliant feminists who help with the movement in 2018.
In 2018, I’d like to do more... one on one dinner dates with my girlfriends, so I can fully commit to listening and supporting them and give them the undivided attention they deserve.
I want to leave behind in 2017... silence surround sexual assault. I am so excited about the #timesup movement and have been so proud of all the brave women of the #metoo movement so I hope that the world doesn’t give up on these voices, and that more and more abusers are brought to light and punished for their actions.
Photo by Leah McIntosh for Liminal.
2/5 Madison Griffiths, 23, artist, poet, writer
I have a few larger projects I’d really like to commit to properly this year; many of which are vastly different to one another. I’d also like to establish a more secure income, which is a little bit of a romantic line of thinking, perhaps. But it’s worth aiming toward!
On a personal level, I’d like to put my money where my mouth is in 2018. A New Years resolution called ‘be a better person’ seems broad, but I’d really like to volunteer, donate, and commit to particular social organisations I feel are doing a great job. It is important to look at how social issues dissociate from one another at a grassroots level. Stop the truck packed with wedged piglets, attend the rallies, refrain from using as many plastic bags!
3/5 Himalee Sah Raj, 24, works at an NGO, moderator for an intersectional feminist group, starting a law degree this year
What are your personal or professional goals for 2018?
Taking on full time work and part time study next year will undoubtedly be a balancing act. My key priority in this journey to come is to be kind to myself, recognise my limitations and to respect them rather than be ashamed of them.
Being kind to myself is my general goal, and validating my thoughts and feelings rather than punishing myself for not thinking or feeling what I’m “supposed” to. I want to learn to ignore the often toxic messages that surround us about success and wellness and set my own standards for doing well. It’s okay to feel lonely; it doesn’t mean you’ve failed at solitude. It’s okay to feel sad; it doesn’t mean you’re not trying hard enough.
In terms of your feminism, what do you see as your main priority within the movement for 2018?
My priority within the feminist movement next year is to mobilise more and increase my offline feminist participation and activism. I am interested in being part of a feminist project and making more IRL feminist friends.
I would also like to engage more with men about feminism. Apart from face-to-face engagement with men in my life, I think that in general, young men need more spaces to discuss, learn about and participate in the movement. A few of my friends and I have a pipe dream of making an online intersectional feminist space inclusive of cis men, though thinking about how to keep the space safe is rather daunting.
In 2018, I’d like to do more of… Hiking! Dancing! Swimming!
I want to leave behind in 2017... My main resolution for 2018 is to stop apologising needlessly. I am an avid apologiser; if someone bumps into me, I will apologise. This year, I started full time work in a professional environment and found myself perpetually apologising; starting questions with “sorry to bother you”, or “sorry, but where do we keep the…”. As the sorries of 2017 flew left right and centre, I noticed they were slowly making me feel increasingly small, meek and incompetent, all the things a young woman must fight against as being perceived. So my goal is to ditch the sorries.
4/5 Kirsty Webeck, 35, comedian, radio host, writer
What are your personal or professional goals for 2018?
My goal for 2018 is to be more discerning about how I spend my time. I was more exhausted and miscellaneously flustered at the end of 2017 than I ever have been before in my life. I plan to spend a lot more time on self-care, get back into daily meditations and plan my first holiday in over three years.
Professionally, I’m working on my new show and tour. I’m hoping to write my best show yet and work it up to a state that I’d be happy to take it to Edinburgh Fringe in 2019. I’ve already got a lot of exciting projects on the agenda for 2018 and I’m excited about finally launching my podcast, ‘Lucid Themes with Kirsty Webeck’ which was supposed to launch in 2017 but got derailed by work on the same sex marriage postal survey. Now that that’s over (what a relief), I’ve got time to be productively creative again.
In terms of your feminism, what do you see as your main priority within the movement for 2018?
My main priority is really pushing intersectionality and transinclusive feminism. I’m also really interested in creating more professionally and physically safe spaces for women within the comedy industry. I’m also on a massive mission to really promote women and non-binary creators and have people take more steps towards boosting them up.
I’ve got some real fire in my belly after the events of last year and I’ll be working very hard to educate where I can, too. I’ve always used the stage as a means to address serious issues, with gender and sexuality equality being big topics for me, this year will be bigger than ever.
In 2018, I’d like to do more of... the things I love doing. Travel, sports, time with people I love, reading, seeing live music, getting out into nature.
I want to leave behind in 2017... pretty much everything to do with it outside of my professional life. I had a really great year in comedy and was afforded so many wonderful experiences. Outside of that 2017 was a binfire for me.
5/5 Carrie Hou, 23, law student, activist, freelance writer for Junkee, New Matilda and SBS
In 2017, I saw women giving so much from the #metoo campaign to Indigenous deaths in custody to decriminalising abortion to marriage equality. It was on us to prove our existence and oppression, serving up our vulnerabilities on a public platter in order to prove that the world is still wholly unfair for women, especially women of colour, LGBTQIA+ women and disabled women. A combination of compassion fatigue and not feeling as if we were doing enough was a strong feeling I and a lot of other feminists experienced.
So in 2018, just remember that News Years resolutions are weird capitalist goal setting bullshit, and not achieving your personal or political ambitions does not mean you're failing nor do they define your self worth. Life is complex, politics can be shitty and progress does not always look like a straight line. You won't always be in the space, whether it be materially or mentally, to give back or be productive and that is OK. If you are in a space, whether it be materially or mentally, to give back and make a change then do so generously.
Just remember that feminism is simple when you know how to be empathetic. Listening, supporting and platforming women reaching out or rarely heard is enough.
What are your goals for 2018? Submit via our Message Us link so we can share with everyone, and we can motivate and inspire each other!
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Why Your Best Friend May Well Be The Love Of Your Life
Photo by Isabella Connelley and Bethan Mooney
Maya Britbart, 19, on the gift of a BFF.
I’m a firm believer in indie movie moments: moments in a person’s life that are so emotionally and aesthetically perfect they could form the basis of a short film. The lighting is just right, you feel that warm sense of comfortable abandon and you look around with wonder in your heart, eager to preserve everything. Sometimes, you’re sitting across from a girl drinking hot sangria in the middle of a chilly Venetian spring, your mind spinning with architecture and a traveller’s high, and you know you’re falling in love. Not in a romantic way, but in that intangible, all-knowing kind of way that lets you know you’ve found someone really freaking special. You don’t want to jinx it by admitting it to yourself, but you may have found a best friend.
I met my best friend at an important junction in my short life; I had just gotten out of my first relationship, had almost no friends that were still in high school, and found myself travelling through Italy on a school trip, hopeful but lost in my own head. We were sharing a room for the three weeks and, although we had met before, spent the time discovering each other in a whole new way across the Italian landscape. I played guitar for her in a hotel lobby and introduced her to musical theatre, while she showed me new bands and taught me how to love my body more openly than I ever had before.
Every moment consisted of finding something new and wonderful about each other, and after we made the long journey home and parted ways, I spent the entire weekend missing her and debating whether I could text her, rather than revelling in some much-needed alone time after three weeks of intense socialising. That was my indication that whatever this was, it was important.
What ensued was one indie movie moment after another, where we would often catch ourselves staring at each other and wondering how we got so lucky as to enter each other’s orbits. We’re both children of refugees and have a deep tie to our respective cultures, something which translates beautifully into an intense interest in everything the other person is, says, or does. She recently came to a Shabbat dinner (a weekly family dinner that we, as Israelis, preserve as a cultural norm), and as I sat there fuming at the slew of sexist bullshit coming out of my grandfather’s mouth, she leaned over to me and said I know you’re angry, but this is wonderful and I can’t wait to come back – just another reminder that this is the most meaningful relationship I’ve ever been in. This is someone I actively want to keep in my life, and I can actually see myself committing to in the long term. We don’t often hold our friendships to such a standard, but working with someone with the aim mutual betterment, enjoyment and care seems, at least to me, to be the ultimate commitment regardless of the level of physical intimacy.
Perhaps it’s the optimist in me, but being so closely intertwined with another person without involving sex has allowed me to understand so much more about what I want from life. Because the predominant mode of our relationship is intellectual, it’s as though the crux of our interaction is to inspire and to be inspired by one another and to challenge each other’s thoughts and beliefs in an eye-opening and fruitful way.
I’ve become more productive, intentionally overloading myself because she trusts, and so I trust, that I can handle it. I’m more fiercely pursuing things like photography and theatre even if they cause me additional study-related stress, because as a biomedical student I’m not ‘meant’ to have room for hobbies. I’m creating more movie moments for myself, because when you have someone who believes in you so intently it becomes just a little bit easier to push yourself, knowing that if you fail someone will be there to break your fall and everything will be alright.
This is what happened when someone entered my life at the perfect moment and saved me from a whirlpool of potential loneliness and self-doubt, someone who taught me the importance of self-love and told me that who I am is more than good enough. She gave me a new appreciation for art, love and a wonder of the people around me that grows every day. Such a concept never fails to make me feel overwhelmingly lucky, because as a child you are often told about growing up and meeting the person you’re going to marry - finding the one - but no one ever prepared me for the joy of a best friend.
Close friendship informs so much of how we view the world, from our most basic morals to our ability to engage in awkward small-talk, and yet we take it for granted because our best friends are just a part of our lives. But unadulterated acceptance and mutuality are unwaveringly powerful regardless of who you are, and a best friend is something that you not only need, but undoubtedly deserve. I hope that everyone gets to feel it at some point in time the way that I have, however clichéd the notion may seem. Because when you do, the lighting seems just right, everything is emotionally and aesthetically perfect, and you can feel the movie beginning to play all around you.
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In 2012, while trolls virtually punched feminist blogger Anita Sarkeesian till she bled, and parenting website Netmums declared feminism to be dead, the internet gave women another unwanted present: the overly attached girlfriend meme.
If you haven’t seen it, you haven’t missed much, but for the sake of clarity the meme gained traction for its apparently highly relatable depiction of a clingy, stalker, why-you-so-obsessed-wit-me girlfriend.
Remember when memes looked like this? We’ve come a long way.
The thing that made this meme so successful, was that it captured a message we are told so often it has become a cultural truism: women are crazy.
For most people, expressions like “she’s crazy”, “she’s overreacting”, “she’s being hysterical” wouldn’t seem obviously harmful. They can appear particularly forgivable in the high intensity climate of a relationship breakdown when the “crazy ex girlfriend” tag is often thrown around.
But telling someone that their feelings are irrational, fictional or exaggerated is a form of gaslighting.
Gaslighting is a term for a type of psychological abuse where false claims are made to the victim, making them doubt their own memory, perception of events, and very often their sanity. The term takes its name from the 1938 play Gas Light, where a husband attempts to convince his wife and others that she is insane by manipulating small elements of their environment and insisting that she is mistaken, remembering things incorrectly, or delusional when she points out these changes.
Gaslighting often plays out in gendered ways. Saying that women are ‘overreacting’ or ‘crazy’ when they speak tells them that their emotions are not worthy, legitimate or rational.
Furthermore, when men dismiss their ex partners in this way, they abdicate responsibility to reflect on their role in actually creating these emotional responses.
Most people who use the word “crazy” to describe women probably don’t do so with the express intention of causing harm. In fact, the normalization of this behaviour is pretty unsurprising in light of the many messages we are bombarded with that say this behaviour is okay. We are warned to stay away from the “batshit crazy” girls, but told that sex with those same women is the best you can have. We laugh at charts mapping the “Crazy/Hot” scale on How I Met Your Mother; and the “hysterical woman” trope has been reproduced again and again across the entire era of filmic history. When people are pressed for the details behind the breakdown of their intimate relationships, they offer “she went bonkers” as an easy alternative to the real, complicated and often painful reasons for why a relationship ended.
One of the reasons men call the women in their lives crazy is to offload their emotional labour. Emotional labour includes talking through feelings and working through interpersonal issues and is often seen as “women’s work”, despite the fact that it is vital for the sustenance and health of all relationships. Traditional notions of masculinity teach men to disconnect from their feelings, or at the very least that talking about them is a show of weakness, so it is unsurprising that when faced with emotionally-charged interactions with women the default response is to call mad and mentally check out of the situation. But calling a woman ‘crazy’ because you don’t have the emotional literacy to engage with her needs does nothing but place an unfair burden on her to justify feelings that don’t need a justification.
Dismissing your ex partner as crazy also obscures the legitimate reasons for why they feel the way they feel. A recent thread on Reddit gave women who've been called "crazy girlfriends" a chance to tell their side of the story. The answers show how frequently irrational it is to call these women ‘crazy’ when really, their male partners have been instrumental in creating the problem. Here are three examples:
"My mum died. You broke up with me at her funeral. I feel like I was a tiny bit justified."
"My ex strangled me so I broke up with him. Months later I saw him at the mall with his new girlfriend, a spitting image of myself. I walked up, introduced myself, told her he strangled me and to watch out for his telltale emotionally abusive signs and then poured my full cup of Dr. Pepper on him. Lol."
"In October of last year I had a miscarriage. I cried for the first two nights and on the third one my boyfriend said it was time to start getting over it. Here I am thinking we're in the same boat and seeing him as my strength, to only hear him say 'Get over it.' Gawd, it destroyed me. He said it was because he didn't want to face it and seeing me like that was a constant reminder but I truly lost so much respect for him after that."
But call them crazy.
Artwork at @marcela.draws
It’s not just partners and ex partners that’s the issue – calling anyone ‘crazy’ is problematic.
Another disturbing aspect of this narrative is how it contributes to the ongoing stigmatization of mental illness. As we’ve discussed, using language in this way feeds a culture that works to prevent people from having constructive emotional interactions during the breakdown of relationships. But the suggestion that people living with a mental illness deserve to be met with contempt and dismissal is also deeply troubling.
Using the word crazy as a slur is hurtful and minimizing. Neuro-divergent people have a hard enough time having their experiences of issues like anxiety, depression and bipolar recognised, validated and cared for. So when you say “fuck my ex, she crazy”, you are inadvertently contributing to a world that says people who are ‘crazy’ are not worth anyone’s time.
The problem is also gendered – women are called ‘crazy’ more than men, even when the emotions and behaviour are exactly the same.
What that means is that sexism plays a crucial role in this phenomena.
Something tells us that if a woman were to release an hour long musical plea for the love of an ex-partner it would go straight in the crazy box, but somehow Robin Thicke can do it and the world cries “passionate”, “tortuous” and “brazen” – but not crazy. By contrast, when a woman turns her break-up pain and emotional experiences into art, she’s a pscyho.
The ‘crazy’ slur is heard not just in relationship breakdowns but at a broader societal level too.
Labeling women in these ways does not absolve the accuser of their duty to take control of their emotional responsibilities, and it does a great injustice to our societal progress. How are women to be taken seriously when the current President of the United States Donald Trump can say that the former Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton “could actually be crazy” for doing her job to a crowd of 5,000 people? If women are to reach our full potential our legitimate contributions at home, work and in society must stop being met with questions about our sanity.
When you get the urge to call a woman crazy, take a moment to think about what that might be saying about you. Instead of alienating her, try instead to engage with her about the emotions she is expressing. When you do that, you are extending an olive branch that shows her you care enough to understand where she is coming from - and you might find that, in the end, her behaviour isn't so surprising after all.
Read next: “8 ‘Compliments’ That Perpetuate Size-Shaming” >>>
Sophie Berrill used to laugh along at the “awkward couples” at school. The truth was though, she was utterly sexually inexperienced herself, and terrified of being laughed at in the same way. Realising that sex wasn’t just something for hot, cis, heterosexual movie stars was a major step in her personal and sexual journey.
When my cohort hit seventeen, I noticed a perception shift about the sex lives of our classmates. If someone was in a relationship, news they’d had sex became less surprising and more expected.
I think it is a widely experienced shift; at least it was at our Melbourne high school. I consider it a welcome shift, too, if you think about the cruel and naïve slut-shaming directed at any girl who dared to share her sexual experiences in early high school. Yet, as with most of humanity’s shitty approaches to the sex lives of others, it had its downsides.
On our quiet mound on the oval, my small group of friends and I would sit together and pluck at grass stems while discussing the happenings of other students. In our passing gossip, we would occasionally look at the school pairs and ponder: do the “awkward couples” have sex?
We went to a grammar school, so there was no lack of couples that were on the geeky side - neither super conventionally hot nor super popular. When the girls’ campus joined the boys’ during VCE they found each other and banded together. There was nothing nice, however, about the way my friends and I would evaluate these couples’ desirability and ability to be sexual based on a completely outside perspective. Sometimes it was just for a giggle that was not intended to be malicious; other times it was a genuine inquiry into the mechanisms of these partnerships, dissected with the gravity of a roundtable discussion.
The funny thing was, at this time I was utterly sexually inexperienced myself, yet I still spoke with the underlying assumption that if I had a boyfriend, I’d be having sex. Truthfully, I feared I would one day be part of the awkward couple upon which someone was taking pity. Despite a brimming sexual desire during my teens, I was – and still very much am – a fairly awkward person. And as such, at 18 years old, I picked out an introverted guy to match my heart.
When we didn’t have sex after being together for nearly a year, I got wind of a discussion between our friends where they questioned why we hadn’t done it yet. I knew this conversation would hold the same pity we’d always had of “awkward couples”, and I felt both embarrassed and ashamed that I had made any prior judgements about others, despite not knowing their private, intimate relationships.
My boyfriend and I had not had sex for a number of reasons (mostly that our living situations were about as awkward as we were; privacy was rare). When we eventually did, it was fun, full of laughs and comfortable. In the moment that we were naked together, completely alone, the fluster I felt in the busy outside world evaporated and I felt deeply at ease with him.
Yet, when I try to imagine having sex with someone new, I cringe at how I would be far too awkward or not perfectly sexy enough to do so.
There is one TV show, though, that still provides a powerful reminder to me that our outer shells – how conventionally attractive they are or how confidently they move – do not determine our right to be sexual beings, or how good our sex will be.
Luke Warm Sex is a short series by the Australian comedian Luke McGregor that does all the groundwork for Australians to “get better at sex”. This isn’t an “eat a donut off your man’s dick” kind of sex education, but a practical one that helps viewers overcome widely-held sexual hang ups. McGregor has classes with sexologists and tantric practitioners. He also shoots down a slip and slide covered in different types of lube to test their effectiveness.
At the very beginning of the series McGregor introduces himself as a “34-year-old comedian from Hobart, Tasmania”, who has had “almost no sex”. He pokes fun of how he looked as a teen with red hair, Coke bottle glasses and braces - his “sexual prime”. “The average Australian loses their virginity at 18,” he says. “I lost mine at 25”.
Sitting on my couch (alone) watching this series last year, my heart was so warmed to see a man whose voice often cracked nervously on the topic of sex, or who cringed into the camera while admitting he felt like crying before going nude, become the unapologetic face of better sex. He was so open about any sexual inexperience and being “scared” of sex but he always represented himself and all others as equal sexual beings.
I have come a long way from the girl who gossiped about others’ sex lives on the school oval. Sex was not designed for the small percentage of the world that is ultra attractive, confident in lingerie, able-bodied, cis and young, as mainstream film and TV might have us perceive. The only factors affecting whether a person deserves to participate in sex is their respect for partners and consent.
So if you’re like me and can’t seem to shake your body of its awkwardness: that’s okay. Go forth and fornicate because at the end of the day, sex is kind of weird and even Brad and Ange probably resembled two walruses smashing bellies - and that’s a beautiful thing.
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8 Common ‘Compliments’ That Actually Perpetuate Size-Shaming
Photo by Isabella Connelley and Bethan Mooney
Ella Scott says these so-called compliments actually contribute to the harmful idea that ‘smaller is always better’ when it comes to the size of women’s bodies.
Complimenting a person’s appearance upon greeting them is commonplace. Rather than a simple, “hi, how are you?” we hear “wow, you look great in those jeans,” or, “have you been working out?” Or any other appearance-based compliments. Our social media posts are also draped in comments about size and beauty, with women comparing themselves to one another, and leaving comments questioning their own self-worth in order to praise another.
Unfortunately, these comments reinforce a stereotyped message of beauty, particularly when it comes to size. How often have you heard someone compliment you on how ‘thin’ you are looking? For me it’s every week, despite not actually losing any weight since a few years back. When someone makes a comment like this, when I know I’m the same size as I was when I last saw them, I’m immediately reminded that I don’t fit into society’s perception of beauty.
So-called compliments that are actually fatphobic happen. They happen regularly in our society which is so obsessed with the eternally shrinking woman as somehow aspirational. Fatphobia is real; fat acceptance (and health at every size) is needed instead. It is important that such comments are called out and recognised for what they are so we can move forward and stop marginalising people who do not conform to the conventional standard of beauty. With that said, here are 8 comments that sound like compliments but are actually size-shaming/fatphobic in disguise.
1. Have you lost weight?
No, did you think I needed to? Asking if someone has lost weight implies that you thought there was weight to be lost in the first place.
2. Wow, you're looking so skinny at the moment!
This reinforces the arbitrary idea that thinness equals beauty. It suggests that the person receiving the ‘compliment’ has not previously or does not currently fit this mould.
3. You're looking so healthy lately, have you been working out?
Again, this kind of comment equates health to thinness and therefore beauty. It implies that the receiver of the ‘compliment’ previously looked unhealthy and in need of change. It also assumes that a fat person cannot be healthy.
During an interview with This American Life, feminist writer and fat-positive activist Lindy West brilliantly pointed out how quickly people cling onto ‘health’ as a justification for fat shaming. I use the word fat as a woman who identifies as an ally and active member of the fat positive movement. This movement supports reclaiming the word as a neutral descriptor, not a slur. West then questioned why people aren’t willing to consider a fat person’s mental health when they make this argument.
4. You dress so well for your body type!
What body type is that? Clearly one you wouldn’t be happy with. This kind of compliment works within the framework of ‘the smaller the better’; essentially applauding the receiver for dressing in a way that conforms to this ridiculous concept.
5. It’s great how comfortable you are with your size.
This one seems so obvious, but I hear it all the time. You are essentially telling the person that you could never be comfortable with your body if it looked like theirs. But hey, good on them for putting up with it.
6. You look the best you've ever looked at the moment!
With this comment, you’re implying that something about the person hasn’t looked good in the past, and suggesting that they are looking ‘good’ based on society’s standard of beauty.
7. You could be a plus size model!
What classifies a plus size model? I won’t go into the problematic nature of body labeling in the modeling industry, but this kind of compliment is so vague in its meaning and can be so harmful because you don’t know how it will be received.
8. You're so lucky to have big boobs that are proportional to your body!
People often seem to comment on boob size in relation to weight as if that somehow makes it ok. Saying someone has large breasts, but that it’s ok because they are proportional to the person’s body, is most certainly not a compliment! You’re basically suggesting that fatness is more ‘acceptable’ if the person has large breasts. How do you think that would make fat women with small breasts feel?
There you have it, 8 size-shaming/fatphobic comments that sound like compliments, but in my experience are almost guaranteed to make a fat woman feel pretty low.
To avoid causing offence entirely, try not to make any comment at all. Complimenting someone as a greeting is not obligatory. It may have become a social norm, but it doesn't need to be. By playing into this ‘complimenting culture’ we are reducing people to nothing but our external features, while all of our amazing attributes outside of beauty are essentially erased.
So let’s stop making other women feel that their appearance determines their self worth and instead empower one another to appreciate what wonderful human beings we are, inside and out.
Read next: “How to tame your pubes - from someone who’s made every mistake in the book” >>>
