Voices

"White feminism” is defined by intersectional feminists as a brand of activism that exclusively uplifts well-to-do white women, while ignoring every other marginalized group. It’s also defined by many Hillary Clinton critics as, well, Hillary Clinton herself.

My relationship with body is anything but “typical.” So far, I’ve hated my body at every size — and not just because of my size.

This ad is the furthest thing from funny. It’s not humor, it’s not satire, it’s just plain distasteful. Good humor punches up. But there’s no humor to be found in an issue that, according to the Center For Disease Control, killed 47,055 people in 2014. Of those over 47,000 people that died of a drug overdose, opiates — like heroin — were involved in 61% of those deaths.

You can swear up and down that you meant it some other way, but the reality is that “crazy” and “insanity” refer to a lack of sanity, which will always circle back to and affect mentally ill people, especially when it’s used in ways that diminish or sensationalize our experiences.

As we made our way to the back of the plane, the baby apologizing the whole way, passengers were giving us a certain look, one to which I had become accustomed to receiving when with my daughter. The one that says, How cute. I, however, was shaken. Had I really taught my daughter, all of 1½ years old, that she needs to apologize for herself? That because she was noticed — rather than slipping quietly through a space — she needed to say “I'm sorry”?

These are precious years; years that pass too quickly as your little ones speed towards adulthood and the ever increasing awareness that their parents are fallible. What I never wanted, nor expected, was for these years to be punctuated by my second spell of severe depression.

As a curvaceous 27-year-old who developed early, I was constantly reprimanded for my selection in attire. Whether I was complimented by strangers or nagged by loved ones, one thing was made certain: my well-endowed "assets" caught both positive and negative attention, even when it was out of my control.

I’d like to think my son won his first (and only) beauty pageant because of his sparkling personality, curly mop of hair, bright blue eyes, and adorable tuxedo — but the truth is that he won because he was the only boy in the entire pageant. He won every category I entered him in, regardless of his looks, personality, or actions. He literally won just for showing up. It was the embodiment of both white and male privilege.