Please pardon my unusually long absence – I’ve been so busy geeking out for the past couple of months that I couldn’t find time to blog (Well, that and my life just got super crazy, but I’ll save that for another day, another post). I did, however, manage to do some writing! In fact, I wrote a short piece for the Intersectionality Issue of GEEKED, a feminist magazine entitled, “Intersectionality, Or, Why I Don’t Write for Feminists.” Given all of the internal contradictions wrapped up in this article, it was surprisingly difficult to put together. It didn’t help that the only way I could figure out how to write it was to call myself out as a bad feminist.
It’s been said too many times that social media is changing our relationships and degrading our ability to genuinely connect with others, but all those “superficial” interactions take on a unique significance when social media meets death. In a totally bizarre way, social media enables us to be friends with dead people.
And for that, I’m very grateful. Continue reading
There are a couple of different ways to drop an anal bomb. (Urban dictionary will tell you one way; porn could probably show you something similar.) This is how I like to drop an anal bomb, and last week was my first time doing it in front of a live audience.
They loved it.
I’m part of a lost generation, so despite all of the other things that I’d rather write about I’ve decided to sit down and write about being a fucking Millennial.
I’m ashamed already. Please, don’t rub it in.
Why write this now? Maybe it’s because I really AM that self-absorbed (but isn’t that some kind of birthright from being raised up in the 90’s?). Maybe it’s because I’m just upset and have been coddled and gold-starred enough to think that my feelings matter and should be expressed.
To be honest, I don’t want to contribute to the same shit that we hear all the time about 20-somethings having no clue about anything or the embarrassment of living a parent-dependent, 30-year-old adolescence. Neither is the motivation here to straighten out all of the contradictory things people say about us Millennials; that we’re altruistic yet severely narcissistic, that we’re the most educated generation to date yet we say our clothes are what set us apart from other generations.
The real reason I decided to write about my generational existence is because Aziz Ansari gets me, a CBS article rubbed me the wrong way, and lately I’ve been living as a severely underemployed,* single Millennial lady with a dual-title PhD. In other words, I embody a classic case of Millennial Malaise: educated but broke, smart but single, passionate but pretty lost, all in all. And like nearly everyone else my age, I keep asking, “But why?!?! WHY DOES EVERYTHING FEEL SO HARD?!?!” Continue reading
It’s been some months now that I’ve had abortion on the forefront of my mind.
I’ve wanted to write a post about abortion, I still want to write about it, and there’s more to say, more to think about, and more to engage with every week as states across the country keep working in creative ways to restrict access to safe, legal abortions (Check out this comic to see the insidious things that are happening). So there it has sat on every daily to-do list for the past six months: “Abortion.”
But this is not that post. (Sorry, I’m not ready for that yet.)
It is something, though. It’s part of a larger story that I’ve been considering for almost a year now. And maybe one day soon, I’ll get to writing it all out and you’ll read Part II. In the meantime, I wanted to share this video because…I’m still thinking and I’m still learning. And I think that is very important.
If you like it, please share it! To get more thoughtful stuff, follow me on Twitter @Cori_Wong and Facebook, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and see pictures of my cat on Instagram. He’s very thoughtful.
Thanks to social media I heard about Zimmerman’s acquittal within minutes of it happening, and just a few minutes later, after sharing the news with a friend, I told him, “I’m not going to write about this.”
On one hand, I hadn’t been following the trial closely enough to thoughtfully comment on the verdict alone. (Tweets of shock and support for Black communities are one thing, but spouting off knee-jerk commentary based on my experience of not being Trayvon Martin strikes me as very inappropriate.) More importantly, on the other slightly-more-informed-about-things-like-racial-privilege hand, I didn’t feel like it was my place to write. Not because I’m not Black so the trial and verdict “didn’t concern me.” This, after all, would be a terribly ignorant thing to think that already evidences loads of racial privilege, as if racial injustice is merely a problem for Black people. I didn’t want to write precisely because of my privilege, because I didn’t want to do that arrogantly-entitled thing that a lot of White people do which is assert, “I know what’s going on here so listen to what I have to say.” In short, I think it’s important for privileged groups to shut up and listen from time to time, to recognize that marginalized people should speak first, and to let them speak for themselves.