Sundays are Pancake Sunday at our house. It’s really the only day I cook and I’m working on mastering the art of the pancake. We’ve had blueberry pancakes, regular pancakes and this Sunday…buttermilk pancakes.
Pancakes are really quite simple, but you need to stick with a basic recipe and don’t mess with it too much. If you stir the batter too long they are not fluffy, if you add too much stuff then they fall apart. Good pancakes are built on some basic ingredients and consistent practice. Oh, and they have to be served warm, with warm syrup, but not too much syrup.
This week I read something that made me sick to my stomach. Too much syrup and stirring and just a big load of crap surrounding an issue that is of the utmost importance.
Here are a few things I’d like to say first…
I am a feminist.
I believe that women are equal to men, and while we are physically different and often times objectify ourselves, it’s not right to treat women like objects or possessions.
I believe women have come a long way through the tireless and often thankless work of the women that have suffered before us. Our lives and challenges are nothing compared to those of our grandmothers and even our mothers.
I also believe that human beings should not abuse each other, that violence is a serious matter, and should not be tolerated in a society.
I believe sexual assault is an act of violence and not sex. I believe men that use violence against women are cowards and it is very real and relevant in our world today. It is a complex issue that relies on shelters, involved family members, our court systems and law enforcement.
With all of those beliefs, I read ‘Kissing Sailor’ Photo Depicts ‘Sexual Assault, Not Romance,’ Says Feminist Website, Blogger on The Huffington Post website. I can only guess that this person has no vested interest in the issue and just wanted attention or to piss people off, because that was my exact reaction.
The context of this photograph is epic and so much more than a kiss, a stolen kiss. When did a stolen kiss become an act of violence or sexual assault? Throughout history there have been stolen kisses, some really great ones.
No one has ever said this photograph was romantic, it represents the end of the war. It shows the sheer joy and relief. This particular sailor kissed a passing nurse.
Look at the faces of the people around them, men and women, it was a joyous time. It wasn’t an assault, it was a connection. Kisses are fun and often spontaneous. Should he have asked her first? Does that make any sense?
What if she, in her excitement, had grabbed the sailor by his uniform and kissed him to welcome him home? Would we even be discussing that?
It’s my understanding that on that day people were hugging and kissing each other in celebration. That’s what this was. It was captured on film and that image went on to represent the end of the war. Why does that have to be messed with? What can be learned from dissecting something so special, that moment?
The comments after this article argue both sides, but my main issue is that by doing this, by making such a ridiculous claim about a photograph, the blogger takes a very real issue and just messes it up with her silliness.
Stolen kisses after the end of World War II are not the root of assault on women. Our society does not turn a blind eye to the objectification of women because of this photograph and this woman is not being assaulted.
This photograph is not the reason women cower in shelters and hospital beds.
If this blogger wants to draw attention to the issue of women being assaulted she needs to deal with the basics, the not so sensationalized truths about abuse.
If she really wants to make a difference perhaps she should look into volunteering her time or donating money to organizations that do the real work for women and abuse every day.
Reducing sexual assault to a stolen kiss at the end of the war is preposterous and insulting. This makes me so sad.
Human contact and joy are essential, it’s vital that we connect and sometimes spontaneously. It has nothing to do with violence or assault.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Welcome Home.