Renata

CLITerally

Curiosity may have killed the cat but it’s gonna set your pussy free. So get your finger on the BUTTON cause that is just the tip of the niceberg…

I’m not here to give a big old anatomy lesson – suffice to say your clitoris is huge – you are hung like a donkey – woof woof! I am 59 and only learnt this a few years ago – how is that even possible?  It’s reasonable to not know THAT much about every organ in your body.  All our bits and pieces generally get on with their jobs without us needing to know too much about their size and/or function: liver, lungs, stomach, spleen – no need to micromanage. I am however, intimately acquainted with my clitoris –  we have a close personal relationship – unlike my colon which can go on about its’ business with only a little input from me…

Strangely the Victorians did a fair bit of research on this. Okay rewind – Victorian MEN did some ‘research’ on this and surprise, surprise wrong again. Well they got the form right – if you dissect enough women you should be able to get the size and structure correct as outlined in my 1911 ’Health and Longevity’ compendium. That being said it was determined that the clitoris was not for sexy times (solo or otherwise) but more as a handy button to relieve Victorian women from their hysteria by pelvic massage. That a corseted 19th Century woman would go to a doctor to have this ‘service’ performed is wackadoodle. By the 1920s the pussy was out of the bag – blue movies were showing vibrators being used as nature intended. STOP THE PRESSES – women of the world receiving pleasure – better make it a sin.



Feeling HYSTERICAL? the ‘doctor’ is in
The illuminati has nothing on us – prepare for the rising of the CLITORATI – coming your way…

Back to squirming our way toward cliteracy. In my ever increasing feminista library there are 2 current books on rotation full of pink pearls of wisdom.

Award winning author Emily Nagoski Ph .D brings us ‘Come as You Are’ which should be required reading for anyone with a pulse. So many miss myths get unpacked – cat’s outtathebag now! A funny honest romp through our biology, history and reassurances that we are all normal and good to go whether or not our lady bits resemble anything that you have seen and let’s face it if you’ve seen a clitoris other than your own (get a mirror and have a peak) they are probably hairless, white and photoshopped. Emily and myself have given a slight pass on the hairless representations as one can get a better look without da fuzz but rest assured we can be a hairy bunch. I am also pretty sure BIPOC peeps have genitalia but when looking for illustrative rather than porn images you would think that anyone not lily white missed the day nature was handing out bits and bobs.

My current lunchtime reading is Lucy Cooke’s ‘BITCH On the Female of the Species’. This book is pure STEALTH SCIENCE – you are so busy laughing that you don’t realize how smart you’re getting in the process.  There are countless examples of how ridiculously PATRIARCHAL science IS. Science is supposed to be ‘the pursuit and application of knowledge and understanding of the natural and social world following a systematic methodology based on evidence’ except for all the evidence that was/is continually ignored when it comes to, well anyone not in possession of a penis.  Victorian men with their sensitive egos couldn’t handle that females of ANY species much less human could be a varied bunch with different types of junk in their trunks. The clitoris was  ‘discovered’ by Italian Catholic priest, Gabriele Falloppio (1523-92) rather similar to Columbus ‘discovering’ the New World… In any case this little friend was dismissed by the physician Vesalius (the founder of modern human anatomy) as ‘this new and useless part’ and that it did not exist in ‘healthy’ women, and thought to only be found in hermaphrodites. According to the 16th century I am an unhealthy hermaphrodite – who knew… Well bring on the army of amazing women scientists who Lucy Cooke introduces us to. Their unsinkable curiosity has pulled back the ‘curtains’ on all things genitalia. From the hyenas 8 inch external clitoris with a set of sealed up fuzzy labia that give new meaning to the term ‘lady balls’, to the opossum’s forked penis which made dude science surmise that opossums must have sexy times by sticking their member up an opossum lady’s nostrils – certainly there could be no other explanation… 

I bought my first vibrator when I was in my late teens (circa 1983) at Vancouver’s Love Shop – well howdeedoodee – that’s what all the fuss was about. Fast forward a few years and I had a frequent flyer card at Womyn’s Wear – no muss – no fuss – just great info. Commercial Drive Dykes know their shit! 

French Sociologist Odile Fillod’s 3D printed clitoris.

photograph taken from wikipedia – young hairless and white – I would prefer a greater representation – fuzzy pussy, elder pussy, bipoc pussy – here kitty kitty kitty

1911 HEALTH and LONGEVITY

This text clearly illustrates that the full length and breadth of the clitoris was known back before ‘talkies’ but we never talked about it. The ‘Stepford Wife’ – that little beauty does more than vibrate…

My husband and I have been together for a coupla decades – he is not threatened by a piece of plastic – bless his little cotton socks. I want to state that I do work on keeping my plastic consumption to a minimum so rest assured my wee plastic friends are not ‘single use’ so free square for me. When I told him about how HUGE my clitoris really is he got on the bunny trail, did some research (cause he’s a curious guy) and picked up this little beauty. I dubbed her the ‘Stepford Wife’ (1975 version let’s be clear) as she is such a nice robot lady that is willing to do all the heavy lifting – bless.  A confident feminist man is not afraid of a battery and besides a little lithium is good for ya!

And now for your musical interlude. I was thinking happy clitoris thoughts when I heard Little Jackie’s song VAGINAMITE. The musical duo of Imani Coppola and Adam Pallin. Imani slams it every time – plus she swears more than me – who knew that was possible.  With lyrics like ‘…my pussy is vaginamite…’ and ‘… I’ve got explosives in my jo jo…’ you really can’t go wrong! Click here and buy it for yourself – artists gotta eat!

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Don’t be a ‘CLITiot’ take a DEEPER DIVE

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Renata

fuckthepatriarchy 101 – Class in Session I

I’m not big on disclaimers – they smack of protecting oneself from a ridoinkulously litigious society, when exercising some common sense would do the trick. So before I plunge in let’s be clear – the PATRIARCHY is a system. Wanting to FUCK THE PATRIARCHY is about wanting to use a new operating system. Clearly the current system of governance used almost exclusively globally needs a few patches, or like your 8 track collection needs to be stored in a musty box in your basement – you can go look at it everyonceinawhile and wonder what the fuck we were collectively thinking.


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The PATRIARCHY is the drywall dust of a construction project – that shit gets everywhere! Years after your renovate you are still finding it in your knicker drawer – now am I talking about dry wall dust or the PATRIARCHY – turns out both.

Renata Crowe

The patriarchy isn’t good for anyone: girls, boys, women, men, LGBTQ+ and BIPOC peeps, plus every god dam mother fucking critter on earth and the environment we all exist in’ – even those who are still working that system for their own benefit – it ain’t good for them, but they are super low on my list of things to give a shit about at the moment. So for any ‘3 leggeds’ out there that feel attacked by the concept of FTP or feminism take heart this is for the betterment of ALL but while we get to a better place you may want to don an athletic cup for support…

Theoretically there are ways to achieve ‘inner peace’ but gotta say I am not seeing much empirical evidence of this. With all the meditating, OMing,  box breathing and TED Talks going on you would think we’d be in a better place globally. Don’t get me wrong I got some woo woo in me and a big ol OM but here we are in a perpetual patriarchal pickle, and those on the receiving end of that bullshitery are doing most of the work – that ain’t right! For me it’s understanding shit – curiosity and all that. If I can figure something out I can make a plan – if I can make a plan I can move forward. So get your ZEN on with a side helping of slappity – all about balance…

And now for your musical interlude – maybe we can ‘Take Back the World’ by Little Jackie (click here and buy it for yourself – artists gotta eat!)

 Speaking of moving forward… Are you fuckthepatriarchy CURIOUS? Walk with me.

I am the bastard child of IGNORANCE and ENTHUSIASM. This isn’t a new thing – I’ve been fairly consistent for decades. In my 20s I remember friends in university taking ‘women’s studies’. I was always puzzled – what’s to study – looking crotchward – I’m a woman what else is there to know? Okeedokee…

Fast forward 3 or so decades (2021ish) and I found myself in the middle of a health crisis. My immune system decided to send me a memo via my largest organ – nothing says something’s amiss like hives, prickly heat, and a rash so bad that I started to look like someone out of the Miri Episode of Star Trek (geek alert). 

I wasn’t familiar with Brene Brown, but the planets aligned and her podcast with Emily and Amelia Nagoski came into my periphery and I am eversograteful. The clouds parted, trumpets blew from cute cherub bottoms and I immediately ordered their book Burnout from my local brick and mortar bookshop because Jeff Bezos can go fuck himself (and stay fucked).

My brain pretty much exploded on pg XV of the intro…

“…We call it ‘The Real Enemy.’ That’s a reference to The Hunger Games, in which young Katniss Everdeen is forced into a “game” organized by the dystopian sci-fi government, in which she has to kill other children. Her mentor says to her, “Remember who the real enemy is.” It’s not the people the government wants her to kill, and who are trying to kill her. The real enemy is the government that set this whole system up in the first place.

Can you guess what the enemy is in this book? [Cue ominous music] The Patriarchy. Ugh. Most self-help books for women leave this chapter out and instead discuss only the things readers can control, but that’s like teaching someone the best winning strategy of a game without mentioning that the game is rigged. Fortunately when we understand how the game is rigged, we can start playing by our own rules.”

Burnout – The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Emily Nagoski, PhD and Amelia Nagoski, DMA

The GAME IS RIGGED – that is the most important takeaway here! Just like the Kobayashi Maru we gotta do some reprogramming if we’re gonna get anywhere. There is work to do – so put on your work boots, grab something sharp (your wit, keys between those fingers or your favourite hatchet…) and come walk with me. Remember that moving forward thing – let’s go!

So for your first homework assignment listen to this, tell a friend or two, walk tall and carry a big stick!

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DEEPER DIVE

Brene Brown Every time I listen to one Brene’s podcasts I get something out of it – connection is a thing!

Burnout -The Secret of Unlocking the Stress Cycle A friend told me I should be getting a kick back for all the times I’ve recommended this book – KICK it!!!

Women In Drywall I have NEVER drywalled but I would like to bow to all the women that are rocking it. If you have the opportunity to hire women in construction – do it!

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Renata

in my POCKET

One would have thought it was colonialism – racism perhaps – or the * current rampant misogyny that would have brought me to this *supernova moment. But no – and honestly you could have knocked me over with a feather – it was pockets! To be specific women’s pockets. Well – cockadoodledo – and welcome to the rodeo.

The injustice of being lady pocket prohibited seems minor – it’s brushasideable as compared to – say – genocide – the destruction of the environment – I mean you pick –  all definitely more important and protest worthy than not being allowed to have a pocket – or is it? OF COURSE IT FUCKING IS but the lack of pockets is still important and represents the insidious way women have been controlled.

I’d been hearing rumblings about pockets – or the lack thereof in the last few years.  Feminists and other learned ones writing essays and being interviewed on the topic of pockets – London’s Victoria & Albert Museum having an exhibition on said pocket pinching. Who stole the pockets and why? The more I thought about it the pissier I got – not pretty – ask PBH (poorbastardhusband). Soooooo let me get this straight – on top of all the other fuckadoodle bullshittery – burning at the stake – sex slavery – slavery in general – inequality in most ways – we (her/she) were also not allowed to actually HAVE a pocket to put our ‘things’ in. So – who’s afraid of the big bad pocket – little baby French men as it turns out – quelle surpreeze. The French Revolution – good times. Women were not allowed pockets and Napoleon gets one named after him – well bollocks to that!

“An 1899 New York Times piece makes the somewhat tongue-in-cheek claim that civilization itself is founded on pockets. “As we become more civilized, we need more pockets,” the piece says, “No pocketless people has ever been great since pockets were invented, and the female sex cannot rival us while it is pocketless.”

What’s the big deal you ask – I asked that too – and hippity hop down the rabbit hole I went. Between me – delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol – and the stars – I figured it out – TADA.

It started with not wanting those sneaky women to be carrying things about: weapons (lady knives – that sort of thing) or secret messages (eat after reading category), or MONEY. Nooooooo the real fear was of our THOUGHTS. Once there is not much left to oppress – you have to go after the thoughts. Orwell knew this – but like all of us, he was a product of the patriarchy so even his opines on women are a bit tweaky. In the 1940s when he wrote 1984, Rosie the Riveter was only allowed pockets because they were in the men’s clothing she was wearing.

My English grandmother was handed a pair of men’s coveralls complete with pockets when she showed up for the war effort to paint battleships of some sort. “You can take that apron off now dear” (well until you get home and have to make dinner).

photo by Mary Evans Picture Library (not my grandma but could have been)

The ONLY photo I have ever seen of my maternal grandmother, wearing an apron with one hand in her pocket…

I doubt she ever gave anyone a high 5 but this one’s for you grandma! Alanis Morissette – One Hand in My Pocket

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“settle down little missy – you got lots of purdy purses to put your bits and pieces”

the PATRIARCHY

Fast forward 75 years or so et voila we have pockets although surprise surprise inequity still exists. Last winter my husband and I needed new winter jackets. Both from the same company, both had hoods, both had a warm cozy lining, and both had pockets. My jacket has 2 pockets, but Dean’s jacket has 7!!!

Just look at the smug look on his face. Hands in pockets and room for all the bananas…

Not that I’m overly competitive but when a friend’s partner was selling his (bless small men as their clothes fit me) uber groovy jacket I snapped it up, and full bragging rights here – MY jacket (ergo a WOMAN’S jacket) has 11 pockets. It even has this weird little pocket on the back left shoulder – just enough room for my secret pocket thoughts, and perhaps a small knife.

The look of POCKET ecstasy on my face says it all – you can see the serotonin being released!!! What to do with all those bananas…

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POCKET definitions + slang

  • Deep POCKETS – If an organization or person has deep pockets, they have a lot of money (so the deeper the better!)
  • To POCKET– to take and keep (especially money) hmmm there is that $ thang again. Thieve, purloin, embezzle, expropriate, appropriate, misappropriate, swipe, filtch.
  • POCKET – small isolated area – the last patch of dirty snow
  • POCKET – sports reference – an opening at the corner or on the side of a billiard table into which balls are struck. (take whatever opening you see and go for it!)
  • ‘eight ball corner POCKET’ – being confident in the fact that you are done, as you would be in making a corner shot in a pool game, or perhaps fucking with the P.
  • POCKET size – suitable for carrying in a pocket ie. pocket pooch, pocket warmer, pocket thoughts…
  • an air POCKET – a small place to breathe in a submerged vehicle, in the crook of the person that is trying to kill you’s arm – that sort of thing.

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FOOT NOTES – let me splain myself

  • current rampant misogyny – Rampant indeed, but CURRENT is the real misnomer as current is belonging to the present time/happening or being used or done now (thank you Oxford dictionary) but according to my initial research we’re talking roughly 6,000 years with roots in Mesopotamia. It would be rather sweeping to say there has been rampant misogyny for all these millenia but women’s position has been subordinate to say the least.
  • current (ALSO and I am delighted to report) A body of water or air moving in a definite direction, especially through a surrounding body of water or air in which there is less movement. Let’s be the current in the sea of patriarchal bullshit!
  • supernova – Any of a class of violently exploding stars whose luminosity after eruption suddenly increases many millions of times its normal level. (oh to be that star!!!)

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DEEPER DIVE

George Orwell (prescient on some topics – dumb as a sack of hair on others…)

A Woman’s Place Ireland (podcast) – great info and if you’re a sucker for an Irish accent have a listen

History – Rosie the Riviter

Pants – while we’re at it we may as well read a little bit about pants – (with 2 legs you think it would have been a natural fit…)

Victoria & Albert Museum (pocket exhibition)

VOX – The Politics of Pockets

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Renata

HAG on a Hedge – LIFE on the EDGE

It is said the pen is mightier than the sword – that depends on the foe I suppose – but reading Mona Chollet’s ‘In Defence of Witches’ has topped up the armoury! Each book I consume on my self directed FUCKTHEPATRIARCHY studies puts another nice neat row of bullets on my shelf. Little nuggets of hard truth to lob at 6 thousand years of patriarchal ignorance (give or take a millennia). 

“Knowledge is power and ignorance bliss” – spoken by Sir Frances Bacon who also wrote “The Masculine Birth of Time or The Great Instauration of the Dominion of Man Over the Universe”  Whoa dude ‘dominion of man over the universe’ Uh ego much? 

I’m calling bullshit on the blissfully ignorant part. We need to fill the gaping holes of our historic knowledge and reclaim some POWER – yup it’s SHAZAM time. 

  • Whenever you hear ‘WITCHES were burned at the stake’ replace with ‘WOMEN were burned at the stake – that is likely the most important paradigm shift we all need to make (although many were hanged first and then burnt or tortured to death but why split hairs).
  • List of offences that one could be accused of WITCHcraft:
    ★ be independent
    ★ be childless
    ★ be elderly
    ★ have some knowledge about pretty much anything
    ★ seems that breathing was also a bit of a prerequisite for torture – wow the inquisition-     tough crowd…
  • 20% of those accused of witchcraft were men – generally due to an association with one of the ‘REAL’ witches – nothing like encouraging men to narc out their women folk – pain of the above mentioned hanging, burning, and torture really drove a big old wedge between 2 distinct members of the same species

Mona Chollet covers a LOT of ground in this book – we’ve got the actual ‘witch hunts’ which spanned centuries, and was worse than you thought. But the knock on effect is what is so pervasive; lack of autonomy of our own bodies (while I’m at it the US Supreme Court can go fuck themselves), ageism – we are talking women being concerned about being over-the-hill in their 30s… guys get a FREE SQUARE, and don’t get me started on the whole grey hair thing. The medical profession also has a lot to answer for. Hands up – or more likely ‘legs up’ if you have had a less than satisfactory experience with a male doctor – nothing like being in the stirrups and having a bunch of uninvited interns come along to take a boo! I am likely not the only one, when faced with a bit of a medical mystery, was told it is all ‘in my head’ and that I should see a psychiatrist…  

In Defence of Witches shares Starhawk’s explanation of the HAG “the wise woman who sat on the hedge – the boundary between the village and the wild, the human world and the spirit world”. I read that and thought – yup I can own a piece of that – I got a little woo woo in me. Let your inner HAG out and extend a hand to your inner CHILD, they will become fast friends and can even share the same ‘tickle trunk’. 

Setting good boundaries – yes yes we hear so much about that, these days. BOUNDARIES what a concept – some people (generally of the 3 legged variety) have spent millennia putting up walls – big FUCK OFF shiny ones – this would in fact be the impenetrable walls of the PATRIARCHY. Gotcha! It’s totally penetrable – you just need the right ordnance.

Let’s inventory our own personal armouries and see where we land. Where, what and how do we ‘arm ourselves’?  Although the best defence is a good offence, (or is it the other way around…) one needs to be realistic about that. I am a practical person – a realistic optimist – an optimistic nihilist – I will need a new label maker soon… Expecting a well organized offence from those who have spent lifetime(s) crouched in a defensive posture is pure cockswaddle. 

Let me introduce you to the HEDGEROW – a delightful border you can grow yourself – keeps out the riffraff but lets in the light and small creatures. I like HEDGEROWs in both the physical and metaphysical variety. A line of closely spaced shrubs, sometimes trees, planted and trained to form a barrier. The fickle balance of light and dark, a variety of climate conditions and moisture levels are required to support wildLIFE, provide shelter, privacy, pest control and conserve energy. Yes there will be some TRAINING – or more aptly put deprogramming for the metaphysical type. 

Many of us have some sort of wall subconsciously erected in our youth to keep us safe – manifesting in ways that do not serve us.  I know I do, but I’m slowly replacing that albatross of a structure with my own personal hedgerow – one revelation at a time. I have a European background (English, Lithuanian, other odds and sods) which I have limited knowledge of, but when I look through what is available of my family tree I see ‘workhouse’ and ‘domestic’ mentioned on more than one occasion – we were not ‘to the manor born’. If you know anything of the hardship of the poor in Victorian England you would be more surprised that anyone survived at all, much less had a nurtured childhood with a good foundation of critical thinking. Knowing this makes me much more forgiving of all the women in my family that came before me and quite frankly were not what is known as ’emotionally available’ – the deck was stacked against them – I get it. It’s not about what’s wrong with us, more about what happened to us, en masse – for what seems like forever. So your first line of defence is to cut yourself some slack and play this song! (Little Jackie ‘Not a Nice Girl’)

‘Not a Nice Girl’ click here and buy it for yourself – artists gotta eat!

The PATRIARCHY style barrier is immense and does not appear to have the voluntary capacity to let in the light – shame really – their loss. Too bad the direct and collateral damage of willful ignorance has been OUR loss… This barrier took yonks to grow, and grow it did, big strong and dumb as a sack of hair – creating boundaries where none should be. Oh DIVISION – you are such a DINK and I don’t care to play with you anymore. This includes womenfolk, we are PRODUCTS of the patriarchy (like it or not) – united we really do stand! There are lots of people I don’t like – and likely one or two that don’t like me (I get it – I’ve met me…) but that doesn’t mean we need to tear each other down – there is already a system in place that has been getting all the first place medals in that department.

But take heart – as I trundle along the top of my personal HEDGEROW I spy breaks in the defence of the PATRIARCHAL wall – fissures created when women heave a collective sigh of ‘oh piss off already!’ I’m not sure what FEMINIST WAVE we are currently riding, but like the waves of the ocean they are powered by a force larger than myself. I’ll work on my hedgerow – one pointy stick at a time…  

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