gender roles
A look at the evolution of gender roles, from Leave It to Beaver, paternity leave, female breadwinners and more.
Can Discussion of Domestic Abuse Be “Sexist?”
Last week, I wrote an article about how abusive fathers are using the family courts to continue to abuse and control their victims. The courts award them custody and contact with their children and accuse the mothers of coaching the children to lie about the abuse. The point of the article was to show how the family courts minimise domestic abuse and that abusive fathers are rewarded rather than mothers and their children being protected.
By Clare Scanlan8 years ago in Viva
Screw Your Timeline
The other day, I was sitting on my front porch talking with my best friend, when she brought up the subject of the life timeline. You know, the timeline for when society thinks people should accomplish goals, hit life milestones, stuff like that, and in her case that means when she and her boyfriend are going to get married.
By Shana Nizeul8 years ago in Viva
Dark Memories
There are so many of them. Memories of my not-so-well-known childhood. I never spoke about all the occurrences as a kid due to the fear of my family being harmed or shamed. However, after a while it just became a habit. It was easier not to share my pain with anyone then to even remember it ever happened.
By Bonita Fernandes-Bennett8 years ago in Viva
Women Should Be Treated with More Respect
So first things first is that women do need to be more respected. They work hard all of the time, whether it’s from home or at work, but they are always working and at work most of the time they are the ones that keep the men in check and remind us stuff that we need to remember. Also when they are at home the man rely on the women to clean the house and cook.
By Chandler Smith8 years ago in Viva
Stoned
To have put up a wall of silence for so many years caused her to be immune to all that had been done to her. Before she realized it, she was a prisoner trapped and encased in stone, unable to cry out in her pain. She couldn’t move; there was no need to, who would notice? All that was once good had long been buried within the cold and now familiar shell she had become.
By Donna Butler8 years ago in Viva
Thank You, Sir
I watched an interview on the morning news today. The subject of the interview was a “friend” of mine. He’s not someone I’d ever meet to catch up over coffee but he would offer me something to drink if we happened to be somewhere at the same time. And he would absolutely saddle up to rescue me from a creeper if the need arose.
By D. Gabrielle Jensen8 years ago in Viva
Just Another Monday
It is just another Monday in Mrs. Smith’s class. I sit, three desks from the left in the farthest back row, spinning my dull ring around my finger in a sort of habitual motion. I like to sit in the back. I don’t like it because I can goof off like the other kids, but because I can’t stand the idea of someone constantly watching me. I don’t want my back to be on display to those behind me. I don’t want to worry if I’m sitting up straight or if my hair looks okay. I don’t want anyone to notice what I’m wearing or even have a thought about what I’m doing. I want to just sit in peace, and do my work. In the back, it’s almost as if I’m not there. I go unnoticed. High school is not how I expected it to be. I always imagined a place of freedom and of higher intelligence that encouraged free thought and individuality. Now, sitting in the back observing the classmates around me, I know I was wrong. The girls in the front of the room are passing notes and laughing, their low cut shirts falling lower with each giggle, each of them modeled in the image of their favorite celebrities. Each one trying harder and harder to be someone else. The boys to my right are throwing balled up paper at each other and the kid to my left is asleep. It seems as if I am the only one paying attention. Here, it seems less like a school and more like a prison. We can’t speak our minds or use creative thought, but instead are taught to be more like the standard, turning each of us into boring and lifeless replicas of the system. Instead of being known by our names or hobbies, we are labeled by numbers: our test scores, our class rank, our GPA. They police how we dress, how we talk, how we sit, how we think, and even when we pee, yet tell us to act more mature. Every day is a sick repetition of the day before until summer, which only leads us to another year of this lifeless facilitated learning. My eyes draw to the faded diamonds on my ring. There was a time when this ring wasn’t so dull. When my mom first gave it to me, it was beautiful and sparkling. Throughout the years it seemed to grow with me, becoming older as I did, and losing some of its shine as a result of the usual wear and tear. Now it just seemed to be a depressing reminder of what once was.
By Scarlett Elizabeth8 years ago in Viva
