Racism Sucks!

I have a dear friend who fights harder than I do for the Equal Rights Amendment. She is passionate and unrelenting.  She is not looking for glory. She isn’t seeking fame. She just wants women to be equal.

Her parents must have known something because her name is Barbara Era Anderson.

She inspires me and gives me motivation when I feel like we’ll never win the fight for the ERA.

She posted this on her Facebook page:

“Yesterday a young teenage boy made a very racist remark to my teen son. This was not someone he had ever met, but was a cousin to his best friend, aka "my little sister." Unfortunately this is not the first time my son has had to endure racial remarks. However, to hear it from the unknown cousin of someone he has held so close to his heart, someone he has looked out for and protected, someone he has fought hard for, was such a traumatic blow. My son, enraged over the remark, was not very easily calmed. He did something rare in that he shut me out completely, and also told me that because I was white, I would never have this problem. He was angry angry angry that I am white and that he is not. He told me there is no way that I could understand. He was reduced to a non-person, shattered.

My heart broke for him. I cried in the other room.

It took a long time for him to calm down, and hours later he was still bothered. Finally we talked. I explained to him that I could not ever understand what he was going through, but that I had faced discrimination in my life, too. He knows what I do as far as women's advocacy, yet he never connected racism with gender discrimination. From his tear-streaked face, his body covered in sweat from anger, he listened to what it is like to hear women being put down through songs that he loves to rap to. I challenged him to find one song on his playlist that does not objectify women. Zero.

Then he said these couple of words "Being a woman is like being Asian, or Black, or Hispanic but ten times worse. That is so racist!" I reminded him that women come in every color, every shape, every size and that we are judged even by our names before anyone even knows one thing about us. He did get some comfort knowing that I too had faced discrimination, but more importantly, he gave me my computer back so I could continue to fight for women. "Being a woman is like being the worse race ever,” he said.

This is the reality I live in and that he lives in. At least he recognizes it. Feeling like a mom who has the best son in the world.”

Diary of An Activist - Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Going Insane

I love being an author and an activist for women's rights. I love writing. Sometimes I feel like I’m going insane.

In my twenties, I studied acting. I pursued a career and was one of the fortunate ones. I landed a national television show and worked on it for seven years. The show didn’t make me a rich woman nor did it make me famous but it did make me feel really good. I got to work on a very popular show that my mother watched when she was pregnant with me, my grandmother watched and I started watching it when I was nine.

 

After almost a decade of studying acting, auditioning and doing all that one does while pursuing an acting career, I tired of it. I no longer felt the same enthusiasm I once had. When I look back, I can see that it wasn’t something I was born to do. I loved it at the time and I was good at it but there was something missing. Another actor once referred to himself as a “lifer” and I remember trying to convince myself I was one. I am not. In 1999, I decided I didn’t want it anymore and started a successful career in sales. The thought of sitting in another agents' office, having the same conversation I had in every other agent's office made me feel like I needed to take a nap. The idea of dealing with another photo-shoot for headshots—that every casting director would criticize for the sake of criticizing—was just too much for me to bear and I stopped trying to get work. I continued to work on Days Of Our Lives but when that gig ended in 2002, so did my acting career. I never looked back.

 Some of my many headshots....

 

 

Occasionally I would write something funny. Maybe an inspired email or a funny detailed account of a miserable vacation I had and I would share it with friends. They would always tell me, “You should be a writer.” I thought, yeah, whatever, and I completely ignored them.

In 2004, I set out to collect stories from people about how they lost their virginity. I thought it would make an interesting book for virgins and wasn’t sure if I could even get enough stories. In 2010, my idea became a reality and I saw it come to life in my first book, The Virgin Diaries. I honestly had no idea I would really ever be an author until I became one. It opened up a whole new world for me. The economy had tanked, my decade long career as a sales representative was not looking great and I moved from Los Angeles to Northern California to start a whole new chapter in my life, one that I never saw coming until I arrived in late 2009.

It’s funny to me that I avoided starting a blog. I was afraid of it. My first one was titled “What’s All This Fuss About Masturbation?” It was about the wacky politician Christine O’Donnell, and her idiotic statements about why people shouldn’t do it. My dad got freaked out because I wrote about masturbation. But almost everything I do freaks him out. Once I started blogging, I pretty much became obsessed with it and as you can see, I am doing it right now!

Anywhoo, once again, life handed me a surprise on April 5, 2012. I got an email from a woman by the name of Susan, after I posted my Open Letter To Rush Limbaugh From A Liberal Slut on her public Facebook wall. I had no idea this woman would not only change the direction of my writing, but she changed the direction of my life.  She founded Rock the Slut Vote and really wanted me to be the spokeswoman. I remember being floored. I discussed the idea with both of my parents and they were supportive and encouraged me to do it. So I did. One of the greatest thrills of my life was the opportunity I had to speak on the west lawn of the Capitol Building at the We Are Woman March in Washington last summer. It was a little scary but FUN and the fact it’s on my life’s resume makes me very proud.

 

 

I learned at the march, that the Equal Rights Amendment was never fully ratified into the Constitution and I also learned that 70% of women also don’t know this. When I found out, I decided I needed to take action and I needed to make younger women aware of this. I am in the process of writing a book for younger women on the importance of voting and women’s rights. I may even add chunks of this little diary blog to the book – ya’ never know.

When I moved to Northern California in 2009, I had a modest savings. I had a modest savings. I no longer have savings because I have dedicated my time and energy to a cause I feel so passionate about. I can’t seem to drag myself away from it. I literally fantasize about walking away from all of it. Sometimes the feeling is so overwhelming, I literally lose my breath. What would my life be like if I went back to having only one Facebook account with just my family and friends, no Twitter accounts and no article writing? What if I just went back to selling stuff for other people, taking in a bi-weekly paycheck—that would more than likely be a fraction of what I made in a much better economy? I actually did have a job selling stuff and was fired two days before Thanksgiving in 2012. The economy played a huge part in me losing my job, as well as the fact that the products I sold are three times more expensive than competitors. In 2005, I had worked for the same company in Los Angeles and was a top sales rep. L.A. is a completely different market and audience than where I live now. Also, while I was busy being a “Liberal Slut,” my employers were voting and promoting Romney. Please note, I am not looking for pity. Just giving you the lo-down. I ask myself if I’m crazy. Why do I choose to try and convince young women, who feel there is no reason to be concerned about equality, that we have a huge war being waged against our rights? Wouldn’t it just be easier to walk away? The answer for me is no. It may be a daunting task and it may not turn out exactly to be what I want it to be, but I am compelled to continue. I love it and hate it at the same time. I hate that we are so divided, and I hate that this country is such a mess. I hate that some young women don’t even realize what’s happening, and I hate that there are women out there who actively fight against equality. I love knowing that the work I do, as well as the efforts of other passionate women working toward the same goal, will result in victory. We will get the Equal Rights Amendment ratified into the Constitution. We will fire the politicians who are hell-bent on eroding and stripping women of our rights, and we will be louder and more effective than the anti—feminist women who are lying to themselves and to the world about what feminism really is.

 

For as many emails and tweets I get from people calling me a c*nt and say that I should be raped and killed, or that I’m a baby killing whore, I get five times as many emails thanking me for what I’m doing. Those emails always humble me and make me want to fight harder. I will. I just felt the need to write all of this down because if I went outside and started screaming, they might throw a big butterfly-net over me and sedate me.

I am an activist for women’s rights. I am a feminist and I am a lifer.

Thanks for reading my rant/diary, and thank you Susan for helping me to be a strong and proud activist.

ONWARD.

 

Makers: Women Who Make America On PBS 2/26/13 (VIDEO)

                           Be sure to watch PBS tonight (2/26/13).

                           Makers: Women Who Make America.

Ain't No Sunshine: 44 Year-Old Male Tells His Story Of Woe

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Kindle & Paperback

Male: 44
I grew up in a small town. I kept to myself and was very shy. In December of my senior year in high school, “the new girl” entered my school, my grade, my life. I will call her Jessica. She was nothing like the girls from where I lived. A mix of mostly hippie, a little punk rock and some Stevie Nicks. Every guy in school was fascinated with her. She had an air of confidence that we had never seen. She used profanity and smoked cigarettes. The other girls hated her on sight, in part because she was sexy and beautiful but mostly because she commanded all the attention. I was smitten along with every other guy in town.

For some reason I will never understand, Jessica quickly took an interest in me. We sat together in science class and were paired to do an assignment together. We got homework and I felt like I had won the lottery. But I was also petrified. I wanted her to like me but I was so dull in contrast to her wild and exciting ways. I felt it best to just keep quiet and let her handle everything; this way I could look cool.

We made arrangements to meet after school and I invited her to my home. Both of my parents worked and I longed to be alone with her. Not because I thought we would have sex (I was a virgin) but I figured being alone with her could lead to a real relationship—and it did. We became inseparable. My parents were not happy. Her parents loved me. I think they hoped I would calm her down. I let them down.

For a year and a half I celebrated and endured the most bizarre, upsetting, exciting, crazy and exhaustive relationship of my life. I let her take me over. She said “Jump” and I asked “For how long? How high? Would you like me to add a skip?” I was a complete doormat for her. I put off college, which infuriated my parents. I fell out of my small circle of friends. My life was all about Jessica. I thought I was happy but looking back, I think I was always on the verge of tears. She stirred me and I think I always knew our time would be fleeting. I was always desperate for her, even when we were together.

I lost my virginity with her. She was not a virgin. She would say all these crazy romantic things to me about our love and future. She would plan out our wedding, talk about the kids we would have, how we would travel and lead an exciting and unconventional life.

We had been together for over a year. That February she became pregnant. I was secretly elated when she told me. I thought to myself, THIS would be how I would have her forever. We would HAVE to get married now. I really believed for about five minutes that I had her locked in.

She told me she was going to have an abortion. I crumbled. Something inside of me knew right then and there that somehow she would be out of my life soon. It was awful. She had the abortion and afterward we cried together. She explained that even though we had discussed marriage and children, there was too much she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to travel, to live. I just sat back, listened to her and felt her slipping away.

In May she told me a group of friends invited her to stay the summer in France. She was supposed to come back in August. I argued with her; I pleaded with her not to go. I then offered to go with her. She told me that there wasn’t enough room for me and this would be a good way for us to miss each other. By the time of her return, our love would be new again. There was no winning with her (at least where I was concerned).

I will never forget the day I took her to the airport. She was so happy and excited. I was a complete disaster. I was angry at her for being so happy and feared I would never see her again, despite her promises to write often. Because we were so young and had little money, we couldn’t afford the long distance charges to speak on the phone.

I do not remember a darker day in my life than the day she left. I sat in the airport parking lot in my car for two hours and sobbed. I was weak and felt like I had no energy for anything. Even now, all these years later, writing this brings back the severe pain I was feeling. I am lucky I survived the drive home. I can barely even remember it. I was drunk with sadness.

I wrote to her and she replied twice. Her letters proved that she was having the time of her life. I feared she would meet someone else. I feared everything and was angry. I resented the fact that I was too young to go there and bring her home. Then the letters stopped. August came and went.

I visited her parents and when her mom opened the door, I could see the pity she had for me. She told me that Jessica was staying on and planning to live there. I was crushed and defeated.
I cried, I sobbed; I felt so sorry for myself. The pain was so intense for so long. I went through two years of torture, waiting for her to surprise me. I withdrew even further and had absolutely no social life. My parents were concerned and insisted I go to therapy.

The therapist did help me. She let me talk and cry but no one could take the pain away. That took years. She had me write down my goals, she tried to encourage me to date other girls but I couldn’t even think about anyone but Jessica. I was completely obsessed with her.

I can’t put a number on how long it took me to get over her. Writing this out and thinking deeply about it brings it all up for me again. I do not feel devastated now. The last time I saw her I was nineteen years old. But I remember the pain I felt. I can feel that pain this second. It took me at least two years to get to the point where I felt somewhat normal. It took three years before I went on a date.

Over the years I have looked for her online. I’ve looked on Facebook and haven’t found her. I admit to being curious but I think it would really be best if I never see or hear from her again. She had an unhealthy power over me. I’m not sure if she still would but I can sense that I might still be vulnerable. I am married now and quite content. My wife is more suited to me. We have a good life. I trust her and wouldn’t want to put her through anything negative because of Jessica.

Jessica not only broke my heart, she ripped it into shreds. She made me feel so insecure and in the end, walked away so easily that I questioned if she ever really loved me.

I thought I loved her. But I was obsessed with her, infatuated. It was a crazy sick attraction. I longed to be close to her but I never felt I “got in.” Therefore I felt like it was an unfair field. She was IN me. I was only about her and I think I was a part of her for a brief time until something else captured her attention.

Over the years I have wondered what I would say if I had the chance to see her again. I have thought to ask if she ever really loved me. Now I feel like it is best to let go. There is some weird grip she will always have. But not to the point where I feel pain. As I said, I love my wife and don’t wish to break that bond.

I do believe in soul mates. I think Jessica was one, is one, but not THE one. I am not sure why she came into my life. Maybe to help me appreciate my wife in a way I might never have. My wife is the soul mate I wish to spend my life with.

WOMEN: What If This Happened To YOU?

 

 

You are a young woman in a modern world. You like to engage on social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter. You’re into dating and shopping. You love to party with your friends. Basically, you’re the average American young woman.

Imagine this:

You post an article on Facebook about the fact your state is at risk of losing the only clinic to provide abortions. In your post, you express outrage and think it’s wrong. Your employer feels differently. They call you into their office and explain how your post is against their moral code and they fire you. You try to defend your position and they simply don’t care. You’re fired. No more paycheck. No more health benefits.

You’re angry. You can’t stop thinking about it, “They Have NO RIGHT!!” You start researching and find you’re not alone. Other women who worked for the same company have been fired because of content on their personal Facebook pages.

You get an idea. You decide that you will organize a group of women and you will gather on public property close to where you used to work and peacefully protest.

Five of you gather and hold your signs. You’ve alerted some radio stations and local TV media in the hopes they will pick up your story. Within minutes, police show up and tell you that you must leave. You argue that you are on public property and you are breaking no laws. Before you even know what’s happening, you are all being arrested and taken away in handcuffs.

You are stripped of your clothing and treated like a criminal. They throw you into a cold, dank cell and leave you with nothing but your thoughts. You are angry. You are scared. You are raging and you cannot BELIEVE the injustice! No one will listen to you and you haven’t even broken the law. How can this be happening?

As a form of protest, you decide to go on a hunger strike. Days pass, you haven’t eaten anything. Prison doctors put you in a straight jacket and say you’re mentally ill. They restrain you and force a large, cold, metal contraption in your mouth keeping it open, making your mouth bleed and then they stick a long tube down your throat and into your stomach where they pour raw eggs. They do this to you time and again until you vomit blood.

Does this seem extreme to you? Do you think it’s something that would never happen? It DID happen to Alice Paul. In fact, worse things happened to Alice. She didn’t post anything on her Facebook page because she was not protesting about free speech, she was picketing President Woodrow Wilson in 1917 so that women would have the right to vote. She broke no laws. All she wanted was equality for women. Equality for you and for me.

 

 

 

She endured physical torture so you can vote today. In 1920, the nineteenth amendment was ratified into the Constitution and because of Alice and her undying determination, women won the right to vote and it was legally secured. There were many other women who fought with her and also suffered greatly for your freedoms. Shouldn’t the right to vote be granted to everyone?

 

 

Here’s the thing, people of all ages don’t vote. 94 million Americans didn't vote in 2012. They don’t pay attention to what’s happening—and there is a lot happening these days that threaten your rights as a woman. People complain their vote doesn’t count for anything. It does. It IS important. If it wasn't important, why would some people try to keep other people from voting? I know it’s very easy to focus on the things in your life that feel more interesting or take your immediate attention, like school and friends and work. When I was in my twenties, I paid ZERO attention to politics and I didn’t vote. I was even a registered Republican because I didn’t know the difference between the two.

No one taught me about Women’s Suffrage. I didn’t learn about it in school. EVER. Why? Why didn’t the schools I attended tell me about this? This is important history. The incredible and heroic efforts women made are by and large ignored. That’s a shame and it makes me sad. That is why I am writing a book for young women. Voting is extremely important. Why else did men (and some women) fight so hard to keep women from doing it? Think about that. Think about this too: women are not equal in the Constitution. The Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) was never passed. We were short three states. Thirty-eight states are needed to ratify it. Only thirty-five did in 1972 and then it was dropped and a deadline was attached. It expired. Equality for women EXPIRED! Don’t you think America should legally recognize women as equal in the Constitution? I do.

If you know ANY young women, please send this blog to them. Make SURE they know about Alice Paul and Lucy Burns and Women’s Suffrage. Please. There is a wonderful movie starring Hilary Swank titled Iron Jawed Angels and it chronicles the efforts of Alice Paul and Lucy Burns. Please watch it. It’s shocking and well done.

Vote in every election.

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Kimberley A. Johnson (BIO) – A.K.A. The Anti Coulter is the author of The Virgin Diaries and an activist for women’s rights. Like her on Facebook, Twitter or follow her on FB HERE.