It’s not that I think he’s a terrible terrible person. I don’t wish him dead. I don’t think he can’t learn and grow and see that what he did was wrong. I don’t know him – I don’t know what kind of journey he has been on, what he has been through since he beat up his girlfriend and got caught.

But I do know that I don’t want to be a part of a culture that allows him to be famous after those pictures surfaced. I don’t want to be a part of a culture that makes celebrities apologize for saying that what he did was wrong. I don’t want to be a part of a culture that LOVES him, even though he hasn’t publicly shown any remorse, any consciousness, anyTHING at all.

If we didn’t live in this culture, this rape culture, he wouldn’t be back on the radio. Ever. We would be saddened that he fell in such a tragic and preventable way, and we would be hopeful that our brothers and sons never made the same choices. But we could be proud of ourselves for making sure we condemned him. We would never worry that we didin’t set the right example by publicly ostracizing him and holding him accountable for his actions. We could breathe a little easier knowing that we didn’t send the message to our daughters that if they are ever abused or assaulted, we wouldn’t listen to them or take them seriously. We would know that we were one step closer to eradicating the phrase “she asked for it” from our collective consciousness.

For everyone who is bothered by my ceaseless tweets tonight, fuck you. If you’re not with us, you’re against us. If you’re watching Chris Brown tonight, if you’re not actively fighting against rape culture and patriarchy, and victim-blaming, you’re part of the problem. And the least I can do is unfollow and unfriend you.

This rage was inspired by domestic violence.
But also by this article, written by @sashrocks, which I read via @muffmacguff. @thedandybutch read it aloud to me while I drove home from SYR today.

http://hellogiggles.com/im-not-okay-with-chris-brown-performing-at-the-grammys-and-im-not-sure-why-you-are

(This is the first of a handful of blog posts about my Birthright Israel trip.)

I live in a world of feminists. My emails are feminist, my twitter feed is SO feminist. My happy hours are feminist. My punk shows are pretty feminist. At a recent show, a kid I don’t know took issue with the word “feminist” and said it’s not what I meant – that I should say “progressive” or “liberal” if that’s what I mean – and I was floored. That hasn’t happened to me in a while. I’ve surrounded myself with “these kids” and “kids like me.” I don’t have to explain my hairy legs any more. I can trust that my friends won’t tell rape jokes or use sexist language anymore. The legwork (pun!) is mostly done.

It’s been a long time since I had to meet a whole new big group of people and do that work again – weed through the bullshit and pick out the #kidslikeme. The last time was marching band camp at Syracuse over four years ago. I’m friendly, ok? I can make friends with lots of different types of people. But it’s always a bit of a shock to people when they discover that I’m That Girl. The girl that will call them out on their bullshit. The girl who talks openly about food and eating. Whatever it is. I don’t live in a world where I’m That Girl anymore. All my friends are Those Kids. It’s not a thing. But when John dropped me at the airport for this Birthright trip to Israel and I knew I’d have to meet 40 strangers (jewish punks and feminists at best, reg kids and bros at worst!), I sort of burst into tears. How would I be able to find My Kids in such a short amount of time? What if everyone was super jewy and zionist and they’d hate me for questioning it all? What if all the girls counted calories? The horrors!

I went in with the idea that I would curb my enthusiasm for a few days, at least. See if I could make it a few days without talking about victim-blaming or reproductive rights or the DivaCup or Jesse Carsten’s song “Functioning.” By the time we floated in the dead sea around Day 7, they would know me and like me and they’d be cool enough to not be freaked out by me and hairy legs (is it weird that I’m still this insecure and worried about that one thing? It’s really not necessary, right?). A few people I spoke to this about said that I shouldn’t worry, I should be myself and it’d be fine – but they also said that it could come off as jerky or condescending if I dove right into this stuff without warning. Is being me that far away from being approachable? I was worried! As it turned out, I made it all the way to cruising altitude before talking about SWNYC. #iamwhoiam.

When I told them I was a cheerleader in high school, around Day 2, and they were all surprised and shocked – it took only two days for them to get all the right ideas about me. That’s how I knew I was doing it right. I think overall, I was indeed That Girl to this group of jewish strangers from all over the US. But what if being myself means being that girl? Shrugs. I think that girl is fucking awesome.

My mom asked me to redesign her resume. The more indesign I use, the more I remember how fun it is to design and perfect and work really hard on making something look better. Her resume before was created on a microsoft word template. Newhouse people scoff at the word “template” and “default” but for her purposes, it was really fine. She’s applying to office jobs, working at desks, with insurance and credit. It doesn’t require a baller artistic crazy resume. But yeah, it can’t hurt to stand out a little. It helps! So I whipped this up in about a half hour.

And you know, while I’m posting it, feel free to send it to anyone hiring. etc etc.

Download: Ellen Lifson1.0

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…

I’ve recently come out as a lover of pop music. When I’m home, I listen to Top 40 radio a lot. When I go out, I like dancing hard to pop (Look, I love folk punk breakdowns and Neutral Milk Hotel jam sessions just as much as the next Westchester hipster, but what can I say?). And I want everyone to know that I think everything David Guetta touches turns to gold. David Guetta is a pop genius. That being said! I also want to point out that the following two songs are more similar than they are different:

I know, right? That’s so many years. I feel like there should be riots in the streets today to celebrate this occasion – or at least big events going on on college campuses.

But there’s not. At least not here at Syracuse. (None that I’ve heard of? And I think I would’ve heard).

And I feel a little bit responsible, in a way, because I’ve become some kind of feminist organizer on this campus in the past few years. I’m the president of a sex-positive club, and the editor-in-chief of a feminist magazine. We should’ve done something! Something big! We should’ve made this the focus of the entire year to get people involved and make people see!

But we didn’t. Because we’re busy. And I want to take a minute to think about all the amazing feminist action on this campus in the past few years to remind myself how awesome it is here. Because although this day is important and monumental and historical, it’s a day. And I don’t have time today. So I’ll celebrate International Women’s Day by looking back and looking forward, instead. I guess that’ll do.

• • Last semester, Kate Bornstein came and spoke here, presented by SASSE - Students Advocating Sexual Safety and Empowerment. It was the first time SASSE hosted an event like this in the fall, and it was a huge success. Kate basically blew my mind. I also went thrifting with her.
• • SASSE produced the 10th annual production of the Vagina Monologues. This year, we went further than ever before – aside from adding a faculty/staff cast, we implemented the use of sign language interpreters and counseling support staff. We used our programazine as a way to share these ideas and also to express our critiques of the production while also paying homage to it and putting on an amazing show.
• • Medusa Magazine also had a first event this year – we hosted Feministing.com last week. I was the catalyst behind this event, and with the help of a ton of other students and organizations, it finally happened, and it was really great. It got a pretty good turnout and I think everyone enjoyed it. All my feminist nerdy friends in one room!
• • Oh yeah, and Medusa Magazine is distributing it’s 4th issue today. 4! We’ve come a really long way and I’m excited to keep on producing and see where we’re headed. It’s such an honor to work on something so new and fresh and special. Especially because it turns out we’ve got some competition. Our launch party is tomorrow night, too.
• • The LGBT Center hosted Andrea Gibson just a few days ago, which reaffirmed and bolstered my own feminisms with her words. She really amazed me and moved me.
• • SASSE is also planning trips to Seneca Falls and the Matilda Joslyn Gage House – things we’ve always talked about but never got around to doing. I’m excited to check out these historical sights while I’m still here in CNY, and also to cite them in a larger dialogue about who gets left out of history, and why.
• • This is a small one, but SASSE got tshirts this year! Getting our name out there!
• • SASSE, AMI and Sex Esteem had the first ever collaboration meeting this year. It’s the first step toward really amazing things – working together, planning events together, and making huge waves on this campus.

I know there’s more – remind me in the comments!

I’ll be celebrating International Women’s Day by being as busy as ever – today I’m distributing Medusa, tabling for Medusa, ringing the chimes, sorting out the funds from the Vagina Monologues and sponsoring Take Back The Night, and seeing an orchestra concert. Oh yeah, and schoolwork too. And this weekend I’m going to Las Vegas to visit my baby half sister, whom I adore. And what better way to celebrate this milestone than by being a feminist role model to my little baby?

Czech it out!

What does it take to be a feminist?

Can you be a feminist if you want to be a housewife? Can you be a feminist if you shave your legs and love wearing makeup and dressing up and shopping?

The way I define feminism hinges on consciousness and thinking hard about the world, the decisions we make, and why we make them. It doesn’t draw any conclusions about what you should aspire to be or how you should live your life. It’s about having choices and having the world actually open to you (regardless of race and class and sexuality, too!). It’s about thinking critically about everything.

I think it’s a pretty feminist thing to do to raise kids with feminist ideals and be taught to question power and question social norms. It’s probably the most feminist thing you can do. Anybody who says that isn’t a feminist decision isn’t thinking very hard about the movement surviving and growing.

In my Angela Davis seminar (!), we briefly discussed the label of feminism. Professor Davis basically said it shouldn’t matter how you define – if someone is doing feminist work but is averse to the label, it doesn’t matter, as long as the work is getting done. And someone who goes around calling herself a feminist (like Sarah Palin?) and isn’t doing anything to actually further feminist causes shouldn’t really matter.

My feminism isn’t about high-power executives and making money and being in “male dominated occupations.” It’s about a critique of that power structure – that’s why I don’t think I’d call Hillary Clinton a feminist – she is still operating with a patriarchal, capitalist, imperialist agenda. Having women in power doesn’t mean feminism is winning.

Either way, who the fuck am I to judge who “gets” to be a feminist in the first place? Agh. Discuss.

My jaw just literally dropped when I saw this.

Thoughts? How am I supposed to feel or react?

Here’s some photos of my baby half-sister – I’m posting them so my brother can see them, he’s in Japan. Also, they are adorable and she is the best.
Some of these are from their trip to Thailand, and some are from Easter.