Starting to think about applying for jobs. It makes me have so many feelings! I wish that when I searched “feminist” on monster.com, all the jobs appeared.

Here’s my real resume:
I’m great! I just won an award here for excellence in presidency of an organization.
My GPA is stellar, it’s close a 3.8
I have a dual major in conflicting things – Ad and Women’s Studies. I know how to be a critical thinker.
I’m a campus organizer and I’m really good at being a leader on this campus. I started a magazine!
I want to save the world
I am a multitasker, I do entirely too much but I never let anything slip. I am so good at checking email.

Hire me!

Just in case you want my real resume, it’s pretty baller, and it’s here.

Been thinking about a lot of things recently, thanks to Take Back the Night and the Day of Silence and my trip to Seneca Falls. But I’m here to talk about my new Diva cup.

I spoke to my cousin today about all the awesomeness. She was a little skeptical and asked some really good questions. We talked about money-saving and how they create no waste. We talked about how it’s cool to get to know your body, and how it makes me feel closer to myself. I stopped myself from saying “in a weird, gross way” after that statement. We talked about how menstrual cups are safer than tampons and you don’t have to worry about TSS. We talked about the “My Angry Vagina” monologue.

I got my Diva Cup in the mail about a week ago, and started using it right away. It was scary, but not as messy as I thought it’d be the first few times. But overall, it was the opposite of a stresser. Getting used to it didn’t even feel like getting used to something new – it just felt like breaking the habit of something stressful – tampons and pads. Not having to carry them around and remember them, not worrying about leaking and TSS, not worrying about finding a garbage in a public restroom (HONESTLY THO) – Diva Cup fixed everything. Stressers I didn’t even know I had. I love getting rid of things like that (see: everything I’ve ever written about body hair).

Then I got home and read this, and I realized another reason why menstrual cups are the best. There’s a whole industry out there designed to make women feel yucky about their pussies. And I think we can all agree – it works. Men get to see their penises all the time; women can go weeks without seeing their vaginas. And lots of women certainly go weeks without touching their vaginas, getting to know them. Having a menstrual cup has sort of forced me to get all up in there – a place I’m supposed to believe is yucky. Tampons let you avoid that – you’ve got a string! And they’re absorbent; rarely is there a mess, and rarely do you have to really get down with the stuff that your body produces. Ya know, since it’s supposed to be so gross. Why hasn’t this struck me as strange before (I mean, I can point to one industry in particular, and it happens to be the one I’m majoring in)? I know my body is beautiful, but I fight with myself constantly to remind myself of that (like I can say confidently that all women do). Having a menstrual cup has allowed me to see what my body produces, up close and personal, and deal with it. And love it and admire all the amazing things my body does. And I can always use more of that.

I just wrote this piece for the Syracuse University Marching Band spring newsletter, and I liked it. Thought I’d share.

The Upside of Being Cynical

Remember freshman year, when there was a home win and the seniors insisted that we freshman go to the Varsity? They said we had to go; it could be our last chance. They didn’t try to hide their bitterness at the failure of this football team. The hopes were not high. It was always understood that a win was rare and fleeting. Don’t get too excited. You know, the team isn’t actually good.

When we beat Louisville my freshman year, I was home for the weekend. My mom called me after hearing the score on the radio, and told me to turn on the game – she thought she heard we were winning. I literally could not believe it. I watched the game in awe. I didn’t know the team could win. I hadn’t realized this was a possibility.

And you know, it wasn’t. The team went 2-10. The single home win was, in fact, our only chance that season. Again and again, we were reminded not to hold our breath. The team just wasn’t good. We stayed in the band for the camaraderie or the music, but certainly not the football. And the team didn’t really show any promise for those first three years. To be honest, I was careful not to hold my breath as a senior, too. And now, I found myself telling the freshman that the Varsity was mandatory; you never know when it’s your last chance to go. And every time, I was sure it was my last chance. When we got close to the six-win mark and people were confident in our bowl aspiration, I was dismissive and bitter. As if. Even after we had won six, I predicted we wouldn’t win any more and it wouldn’t stick. It couldn’t. (Those cynical dreams came true this season with the women’s basketball team. Just sayin. #wegotrobbed)

When everything somehow culminated in New York, and I saw the Empire State Building lit up for Syracuse (and Kansas), I cried. Erica and I were running to catch the bus and suddenly, I couldn’t move. I wanted to grab strangers on the street and tell them that we had done it; that orange was for my team. My sorry-ass team. And then when we ran into Yankee Stadium and I saw all that orange, something happened. Playing the alma mater on the field did something to me. And let me say, I’m a Mets fan through and through. I hate the Yankees, but that experience moved me. Hardcore.

And then (get this): We won. And I’ve never felt that way before. I’ve never cared about sports the way I did in that moment, when the team jumped on the snow (their natural Syracuse habitat) and celebrated. Everything was worth it. Putting up with this team for all this time had miraculously paid off, and in the best way imaginable. In a way, I didn’t think it would. And maybe if I hadn’t been so cynical the whole time, the Pinstripe win wouldn’t have been so meaningful. There you go.

But either way, I’m ready to graduate on that high note. I don’t want to see myself slip back into that skepticism. I’m ready to pass the baton to a new generation of SUMB; perhaps one that has no need for that negativity. With that said, I’m tempted to urge everyone to go to the Varsity after a home win…