I'm Lena Chen, a writer, activist, and media producer who's been called a "skank" (by Bill O'Reilly) and "a small Asian woman" (by The New York Times). My favorite part of my workday is the hate mail.For the unlikely story that is my life, read on.
Or at least, not sexist? Or sizist? Or gender-normative?
Last year, I was psyched that I had “finally conned someone into loving me”. Nowadays, the novelty has worn off. Since Valentine’s Day is this Sunday and I cannot plan more than three days in advance while in thesis-mode, I decided the best thing to do would be to skip the dinner crowds and … no, not do nothing … have a party! DUH. (Thesis? What thesis? No, seriously, I’ve been trying really hard to pretend like this deadline doesn’t actually exist.)
Which is where this theme comes in. One of my friends suggested a lingerie-themed party, and though I know in my heart that she just wants to show off her abs (bitch!), I’m also kind of thinking, “Well, why not?” Because hey, who says a lingerie party can’t be an egalitarian affair if hosted by a progressive couple who aren’t slaves to gender norms or traditional codes of sexual conduct? Hello, I’m a Third Wave Radical Marxist Feminist, and the Roomie’s is a … er, European. If we can’t pull this off, then at least we’ll know once and for all that lingerie parties are definitely off the list of potentially transgressive activities.
I should preface the rest of this entry with the following: I’m pretty sure I’m the only person at this theoretical party who’s even going to think twice about its feminist implications. Which doesn’t mean I’m not going to send this blog entry to my entire guest list. (Hi guys!)
Let’s start with semantics. First of all, it cannot be a “lingerie” party or it will devolve into lots of tiny women prancing about in lacey scraps of fabric while fully-clothed men watch with mouths agape. Which is no fun, not because I don’t want dudes looking at me, but because what the hell am I going to look at it? Second of all, the guest list must be sexually diverse, so that some of the dudes will be checking out the other dudes and female guests don’t feel like this is just some sick joke where they show up to a supposedly “safe space” (this is what I call my apartment nowadays*) only to be subject to the male gaze. In the ideal party, EVERYONE will be gazed at, dudes and bulldogs alike. Third, I don’t think anyone should be forced to strip to their skivvies if they don’t want to, so an alternative for the shy might be regular PJs. But that really defeats the point of getting lots of hot, half-naked singles together, so I’m going to have to think about alternatives. Fourth, I could really care less whether women are wearing lingerie, so I think it should be perfectly fine if I decide to don Paul Frank boxers instead of a thong. (Or you know, a Paul Frank thong, which surely must exist somewhere.)
Although I will confess that I’ve already begun looking for a Hello Kitty bra. Perhaps this entire thing was just an elaborate excuse to justify my desire to incorporate Hello Kitty into my sleepwear.
File this under: things I am trying to figure out in my head while really, I have to write my thesis.
* KIDDING. Jesus, feminists can be self-deprecating too.