I think I get what you're saying, DJ. The idea that influential decision makers have rated your reproductive system second-grade.

Hey, you're the redhead. You get the green mini-skirt and yellow go-go boots.

I don't feel a burden to prove my humanity, at least not in the context that was used in the article. I'm pretty confident that everyone in my personal and professional circles accepts that as part of my definition. However, do I think I have to prove that I am an equally intelligent human because I am a woman? Oh hell yes. Every single day.

I was lulled into a false sense of acceptance in Grad school thinking at that level of academia, people are above such influences. Then I sat in on a meeting where my advisor trumpeted the achievements (which were impressive) of one of his former students, and then said, "now guess what she looks like?" Wha-huh? He implied that it should be a shock that she was stunningly attractive. I felt like I had been slapped in the face. Do I not try and achieve so much so that I will still be seen as beautiful? Do I try and appear as plainly as possible so that my achievements are viewed with greater weight? If I only had a HAMMER I wouldn't have to worry about such things.

Granted I say this realizing that I am allowed to wear a tank top to the store if I choose or shorts to walk around the block. My humanity as a woman is more firmly established than many women. Maybe I'm complaining when I should be grateful for my first world level problems. I don't know.

That, and that a whole lot of people, including people who have the same bits, have no problem with it.

You get the green mini-skirt and yellow go-go boots.

Oh dear.

I wonder if Christian Louboutin makes anything in yellow...

Maybe I'm complaining when I should be grateful for my first world level problems. I don't know.

No. I refuse to be grateful that we're only discriminated against professionally, socially, and sexually, and you know, not stoned to death.

The idea that influential decision makers have rated your reproductive system second-grade.

Oh no, it's not second grade, following the logic through a woman's reproductive system is her primary function in life. In other words, it's the woman herself who's secondary. Which reminds me of a truly repugnant joke I was once told about vaginas. I'd repeat it here because it fits in the context of the discussion, but I don't think I can bring myself to write it.

No. I refuse to be grateful that we're only discriminated against professionally, socially, and sexually, and you know, not stoned to death.

Yeah, I cross posted with a few points that I wasn't even considering.

So, knitting. I should really go find a pattern for Jilli's shrug.

Major word, DJ.