Music Television Becomes Activism: MTV’s Sweet/Vicious Voice on Assault

The smartest show on TV…is on MTV.

Yeah, that MTV. The channel that long ago ceased playing their namesake music videos and instead became the primary purveyor of belittling content chronicling the spoilt, reckless or sadly self-promotional new American teenager (SEE: Jersey Shore, My Super Sweet 16, Jackass).

I wouldn’t expect MTV to shy away from risk. It has always been provocative.

But, advocative? You wouldn’t anticipate that the folks who brought 16 and Pregnant to the masses (and by “masses”, I clearly mean “impressionable, vulnerable teenagers”) would end up making the most activist-minded female content on cable.

But, in fact, they have. MTV took the delicious camp of its previous unscripted content, added legitimate talent and took a stand against the societal issues that for so many recent years have been the exploitational bread and butter of its brand.

The premise is simple: two masked vigilante co-eds take abusers’ justice into their own hands.

Sweet/Vicious, from creator Jennifer Kaytin Robinson, would certainly have been a dynamite pitch. But it’s clear that having veteran producer/writer and showrunner Amanda Lasher (Gossip Girl) at the helm lends a legitimacy and deftness never before seen on the cable channel.

The show has all of the humor, levity and pop-y design (SEE: Taylor Dearden’s graphic-novel-green hair) of a Gossip Girl or a Scream Queens, but there is a dedicated commitment to the commentary central to its concept that is wickedly intelligent, refreshing and necessary. What could easily be witless or exploitational, is – instead – a wisely-crafted, candy-coated ass-kicking of campus rape culture.

Sweet/Vicious is both entertaining to watch and inspiring as a new model for revolutionary, inciting content.  

Damaged-but-determined and adorably-dimpled Jules (Eliza Bennett) and punky-sarcastic-but-honorable Ophelia (Taylor Dearden) are a classically delightful and relatable teenage TV duo, upgraded for the 21st century as tech-savvy, enviably badassed crusaders. They are the millennial Buffy and Faith, armed with feminism, fighting the patriarchy rather than the undead. Or…perhaps [since in all my MTV programming references have been antagonistic], they are live-action Daria and Jane: less snarky and misanthropic, but similarly well-balanced and steadfast and aided by taut martial arts choreography.

The show never forgets its ultimate calling and treats the moments where we drop into the victims’ private experiences with respect and a deserved dignity. The writing staff does a phenomenal job, too, of thoroughly exploring all potential injustices of their setting by not stopping at male-on-female sexual abuse. The commentary on campus culture – institutions’ refusal to ensure the rights provided by Title IX, bullying, girl-on-girl assault, race issues, social media – is comprehensive and scathing.

Sweet/Vicious is a show that makes me proud to be a girl. The leads are written and performed with realism. Even the secondary female characters are given dynamic storylines that allow for positive and accurate female representation over stereotypes. The negative portrayals have intention and purpose. And though the presentation of the show’s campus parallels our real world in which women or minorities or the disenfranchised often walk in fear for their literal safety, the message Sweet/Vicious emphatically voices is that we are not alone and we have a voice.

So, thank you, MTV, for content with a voice.

Thank you for programming that is willing to stand up and say what needs to be said, no matter how disquieting it may be.

Sweet/Vicious is a much-needed respite from material that pities or perverts and a brave call-to-action that I, for one, am proud to put on my figurative mask and join.

Sweet/Vicious airs on MTV on Tuesdays, 10/9c. Episodes also available via iTunes.


Supporting Survivors: A Response.

Dear Sugars,

I asked writer Angela Gulner to contribute the essay “Taking Back Their Power” as a part of the outreach we are doing with the organization It’s On Us.

It’s On Us is a national organization striving to create awareness on college campuses about sexual assault. Angela’s essay specifically addresses how colleges – and, in turn, we as a society – could improve upon the reaction to sexual assaults and sexual assault allegations, not – actually – the veracity of Miss Wilson’s allegations against her accused attacker.

We received a comment on the blog that I am choosing to address very publicly because- while I disagree with some of its content and tone – I think this is the exact discourse that needs to be happening at this time.

I repost the comment here, in its entirety:

“Interesting that you assume that there was a sexual assault here. Even though the College–using the ridiculously low standard of proof required by the feds–found none? And even though the police have not taken action?

I have to say, this idea of “realizing” that one has been sexually assaulted only four-six months after the alleged occurrence is disturbing to me. The physical evidence is gone; people’s memories are dimmed, if not manufactured.
If you want people to take sexual assault on campus seriously, there are a few steps to take: one, avoid intoxication to the point of not “knowing” you are being raped (this, I know, is non-PC, but I say it as what I would say to my teenage daughter); two, report any form of assault immediately to police, who are the only ones competent to address the crime; three, stop silly demands like depriving alleged rapists of important rights, including remaining on campus unless and until convicted of a crime or violation of school policy, and the adorably ignorant demand for “a precisely stated requirement for affirmative verbal consent.” This young woman is clearly not headed to law school.”

Appropriately, we received this comment on the National Week of Action’s designated day for “Supporting Survivors”, so this response to Orcasite is particularly well-timed, crucial and encompasses both topics of policy and support.

Angela’s column absolutely does assume there was a sexual assault because we were told there was. She and I both share the belief that we should strongly support survivors of rape and sexual assault.

Though there are often assertions made that accusers lie about assaults, statistics actually show that only 2-7 percent of sexual assault reports are false. If the burden of proof – and shame – continues to lie with the victims, we cannot offer victims assurance that coming forward is the right thing to do and we cannot decrease the number of instances of assault and rape.

But Angela wasn’t tasked with defending Madeline. She was raising questions about the campus policy that – disappointingly – isn’t limited to St. Olaf.

I address the comment from Orcasite, not to contest his/her beliefs about Madeline’s story, but to point out that the comment itself has much in common with the policy issues found on most college campuses which this piece DOES take issue with and which the St. Olaf students protest.

I understand Orcasite’s issue with the timeline of reporting and I think this is completely indicative of greater societal concerns:

a) we don’t educate and converse properly about sex and boundaries, and

b) we don’t have protections in place with consistent policy which allows victims to feel safe coming forward.

Why do we assume that reporting an assault is easy for a victim? 

Angela wrote this piece not as a fellow survivor, but as a concerned alumna of her beloved college which she wishes could be as safe an environment for other women as it was for her.

I, though, respond here personally as a longtime advocate for sexual assault and violence victims, as a proponent for education as prevention, and a survivor myself.

[And, no, I was not intoxicated at the time.]

And I strongly urge others to use caution when criticizing accusers. If we are willing to blame one woman for drinking, we open the door to blame the next girl for her outfit and the next for just not knowing any better. We just continue to allow the victims to carry all the shame. The story needs to change.

I’ve known many other women and men who were assaulted. Many worse than I. Many braver than I who shared their stories and filed charges (though no one won a legal case). I’ve even supported a male friend through a case of an accusation against him* .

Reporting it doesn’t make it factual. Being sober doesn’t prevent it. Intoxication doesn’t excuse it. Maturity doesn’t it make it less likely or confusing.

What I can tell you from all my experience – despite the fact that I didn’t head to law school either – is that sexual assault can happen to anyone, anywhere. And it sure as hell isn’t easy to talk about. And not one of the cases is like the next. So we have to start addressing sex and permission and respect (for both self and others) in broader and more urgent terms.
Communities need to provide better education and support. University administrations and police departments need to have very specific systems in place to take swift action to protect and support victims.
As it stands, universities and police often have conflicting protocols for dealing with assault cases. I know for a fact that victims have appealed to one only to be told the other is the legal authority. I know for a fact, too, that many universities have impeded and actively covered up outside police investigations.
Publicly admitting you were in what feels like a shameful/demoralizing/harrowing situation is infinitely difficult and the lack of proper, consistent policy isn’t helpful in an already debilitating event.
The system needs fixing. Period.
So. Orcasite. Thank you for continuing the discussion. And I hope you do tell your teenage daughter all about the dangers of drinking too much and entering potentially sexual situations without asserting boundaries or considering dangers.
May she always be safe.
May all our daughters…and sons…be safe.
May they never know what it’s like to have strangers attack their truths and question their dignity.
May they always hold their heads high and fiercely protect others around them so fewer and fewer of our children find themselves in these distressing situations.
It’s on all of us to stop sexual assault. Take the pledge:
For more information on sexual assault or to get free, confidential help:
*and, yes, I do believe colleges should protect the accused as well, unless or until proven otherwise responsible. Justice should work appropriately and consistently across all sides of the issue.

Taking Their Power Back

I wasn’t sexually assaulted in college. I was one of the lucky ones. I went to a small, private, liberal arts college in Minnesota filled with wholesome, community-minded students and a faculty of passionate, dedicated, hard-working mentors.

But I’m not naive. I know the statistics. One out of five college women are raped during their time in school, and one out of sixteen men. The survivors were my friends and my classmates. And the attackers were, of course, their friends and classmates.

It is no secret that we are failing sexual assault survivors on virtually every level in this country (and around the world, but that is for a much bigger, more involved conversation). The epidemic was beautifully and heart-wrenchingly shown in 2015 documentary The Hunting Ground. News articles with headlines like “X University’s Rape Problem” and “The Problem with Title IX” pop up in my feed on a daily basis. So I wasn’t surprised to find my own beloved St. Olaf College in the news for failing to protect and defend its’ students.

But I was inspired. Not by the reports of severe case mismanagement, fishy legal gymnastics, and utter disregard for the survivors’ emotional and physical well being. I was inspired by how these brave survivors have responded to St. Olaf’s failings.

Madeline Wilson (and a group of other kick ass survivors) brought these issues to local and national attention this week by wearing ASK ME HOW MY COLLEGE IS PROTECTING MY RAPIST shirts around campus. They’ve also launched a website outlining their grievances with the institution and offering a safe space for other survivors to come forward and enter the conversation. They’ve banded together to support one another emotionally, and hold St. Olaf accountable for its failings. Instead of allowing their experiences to silence them, they are taking their power back. And while my heart breaks for what they have experienced, they are the reason I am proud to be an Ole.

Unfortunately, I think it is going to be a very long time before sexual assault survivors are treated with the care, attention, and compassion they deserve. And I think it is going to be an even longer time before sexual assaulters are treated with the severity and consequences they deserve. But in the meantime, Wilson and co. are setting an incredible example of how to work around a flawed system and to inspire change from a grassroots level. It’s inspiring, brave, and revolutionary.

Thank you, Madeline, for channeling your power, your brain, and your voice. I am so grateful for how you are drawing attention to this horribly pervasive problem.

Check out their work here:

Angela Gulner, St. Olaf Class of 2009

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If All the Doors Are Closed: Undocumented Youth & Higher Education

Near the end of my freshman year at college, the woman who would become my lifelong best friend and – in so many ways – mentor stood in my dorm room, perusing my framed photo collection amid my Introduction to the Humanities course readers. On the shelf was a framed photo of my high school class, taken on the day when all the seniors wear their university t-shirts and pose on the bleachers outside our college preparatory academy for a final group photo.

       “What about the kids who didn’t go to college?”, my friend inquired.


       “Every kid in your class went to college?”, she confirmed, incredulously.

Now, there were only 72 of us in that graduating class. But, yes, every single one of us went to college. As did every kid in the class ahead of us and the one below. And while I know not everyone finished a four-year collegiate program, I’m sure it was considered scandalous if there was a student from my high school who didn’t – at least – initially enroll. College was a guarantee. And an expectation. I had no idea of my own privileged position until that friend of mine called me out on my ignorance. Thank goodness for her. Swapping my naivete for a wider world view is an important challenge and I hope the stories and perspectives we share through Miss Matters only continue that challenge for me…and for you, Sugars.

Nowadays, I make a living teaching standardized test prep, editing college application essays and advising students and their parents on college selection. I work with privileged students, with students applying for scholarships and work-study programs and with students with learning disabilities, for whom the academic future is uncertain. With the increasingly – nearly prohibitively – choosy admittance percentages of colleges, there is an encouraging increase in interest in nontraditional educational paths. But many of us unwittingly assume we’re operating under a mostly merit-based educational system. As long as you’re pursuing a reasonably achievable academic goal, you’ll find your niche in the appropriate environment.

So what, then, does one do, when – despite the necessary academic achievement and ability and ambition – doors are closed to further advancement? What does one do when merit doesn’t matter?

As a dedicated and accomplished student, activist and community organizer Veronica Gomez deserved the education she pursued; but as an undocumented youth, government policy restricted her academic access.

My own college application process involved one single fear: that I wouldn’t get into my top choice. There was no other major concern. I knew I would go somewhere. My lack of fear was merely an absence of uncertainty.

Of the approximately 65,000 undocumented students who graduate from high school each year, only 5-6% will overcome the associated difficulties (lack of financial aid, exclusion from the workforce) and attend college. For Veronica and the thousands of others who not only desire, but are willing to fight for equal access to higher education, their rallying banner “undocumented and unafraid” doesn’t denote a lack of fear, but a determination to press on despite tremendous risk.

In this week’s mentor blog we are honored to share Veronica’s story, in her own words. She is joined by Jenniffer Castillo and Saray Deiseil, the two intrepid filmmakers who joined and documented Veronica’s and six other activists’ cross-country march to raise awareness for immigrant rights.

The resulting film, American Dreamers, “tells the story behind the Campaign for an American DREAM (CAD)*, a group of six undocumented youth and an ally who risk their freedom when they publicly come out as undocumented and walk 3,000 miles to the nation’s capital to organize for immigrant rights. These are college students, young professionals, activists, and community leaders. The documentary chronicles their journey as they come out of the shadows, share their stories, empower communities, and put everything on the line to fight in what they believe is their civil rights movement. They are undocumented and unafraid.”

How did each of you get involved in Campaign for an American Dream, originally?

Jenniffer Castillo: I first heard about CAD through a Google Alert! I had been writing a story about immigration at the time and had been doing a lot of research for it. When I read about them, I emailed Saray right away. Figured if they didn’t have cameras with them and they were open to being filmed, that this would be a tremendous story to cover. Within a week, we were on the phone with them. And within a month we met them on the road in Provo, Utah.

Saray Deiseil: As Jenn mentioned, she came to me with the article when CAD began their walk in San Francisco.  I immediately was on board because these are the stories we want to tell, stories that have a social cause and can shift the way people think and view certain issues.  This was a story that not only is important for our country to have a dialogue about, but it really hit close to home for us on many levels.  We were very fortunate to have had the opportunity to join them on their journey.  

Veronica Gomez: I found out about the walk via Facebook! Saw a post about a group of activists putting together the walk who were accepting applicants for walkers. I decided to submit, but they actually turned me down… Twice! I didn’t let that stop me. I volunteered with them before the walk, and when the walk first started I drove out during the weekends to walk with them. By the time they reached Vegas, they asked me to join full-time and I never left.

Vero, you have a personal story which relates specifically to educational rights in this country. Will you tell us a little about what it was like growing up undocumented?

VG: Growing up I didn’t really know what it meant to be undocumented. It wasn’t until I was 16 and tried to apply to a California driver’s license that reality sunk in. At the time, California did not issue licenses to undocumented immigrants. Once I graduated from high school, another reality sunk in… I couldn’t go to a four-year college because I didn’t qualify for in-state tuition… Or so I thought! AB 540 had passed in California in 2001… This was 2005… But the advisors at my high school were not not aware of the opportunities available to undocumented students and neither was I… I was told I couldn’t attend a four-year university. I went to community college instead and obtained two associates degrees. By then I realized I qualified for AB 540, I transferred into a four-year institution where I received a bachelor’s degree. Still, at my graduation I held back tears because I knew that without a work permit, I wouldn’t be able to use the degree I had worked so hard to obtain.

The biggest issue with being undocumented for me was not knowing others who were in my same situation. Back then, letting others know about your status and trusting them with that information was a big ‘no no’. It was a secret you could not share. Since 2010, with the rise of the undocumented youth movement, more and more people are now coming out of the shadows and sharing their stories publicly.

For those of us who don’t understand the process, can you shed some light on just how difficult obtaining legal status is in this country?

VG: For as long as I can remember, everyone always said ‘to get in the back of the line’ to obtain citizenship, but if there was a line many undocumented folks like myself would have stood in line.

My parents applied for residency through my dad’s sister when they first arrived, but 23 years later they were still waiting for an appointment from immigration to fix our status. Because of our broken immigration system, the processing time for a sibling to petition another can be decades long. If you ask me, 23 years is not a line, it’s a lifetime. My parents were finally able to get residency when my younger sister turned 21. The processing time when you’re petitioning a parent is much quicker. Within six months they had residency. Unfortunately, if my sister tried to petition for me, we would also be looking at a very long processing time.

Hearing stories like yours – and like that of your fellow CAD activist Jonatan Martinez who hoped to serve in the American armed forces – it seems particularly ironic that you sought a degree and a potential career in the public service sector in a country that, seemingly, via public policy, doesn’t appreciate your fight for your own education or your desired service. How difficult was it to maintain your own determination?

VG: It was difficult to maintain my determination and at times it still is…but my parents sacrificed so much to provide a better future for us. They’ve given me the strength to move forward. My mother always told me that when one door closes another opens, and if all the doors are closed, I better find a window or another way in.

Just to give you some background on my desire to pursue law enforcement…before I went to school for Criminal Justice because I wanted to be ready to be able to protect my family in case immigration ever came for them. Now that I have a work permit, granted to me through the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, I am able to work legally but I still can’t be a police officer in the state of California because I am not a US citizen. DACA doesn’t grant us a pathway to citizenship and police work requires citizenship. My sister who is a US citizen is actually applying to be a police officer in San Francisco as we speak.

Since the walk, I’ve learned that I don’t have to be a police officer to protect my family. I have to be up to date with laws and legislations, I have to know our rights, and I have to be connected to a group who can advocate for us if anything happens. Being connected to activists and people on the ground who can advocate for you and your family goes a long way when you or a family member are in deportation proceedings… That’s why I urge people to get involved and reach out to the groups in their communities. It’s not that I’ve entirely given up on the idea of being a police officer, it’s simply that that is not an option for me at this time. Even with DACA, I am still undocumented.  

There’s been progress for the cause made via both your specific activism/film and via legislation at state and federal levels. For each of you  – personally – what is the most rewarding change you’ve witnessed?

JC: The most rewarding legislative change to have witnessed was the DACA announcement. CAD was part of a national civil disobedience orchestrated by the National Immigrant Youth Alliance and Immigrant Youth Coalition in which undocumented youth staged sit-ins in President Obama’s campaign office across the country, demanding President Obama to pass an executive order that would stop the deportation of DREAMers. Vero and Javier from CAD were the first to go in. The office they took over was the main campaign office in Denver. Their sit-in also turned into a hunger strike, and Saray and I were with them in the office for those six days. It was truly moving to see them risk arrest and deportation as a way to speak up for their community. At the time, we didn’t know what would come of it and if any of it would be worth it. But the day they walked out, others actions erupted in other states across the country and two days later President Obama announced DACA, giving them exactly what they asked for, a way to stop the deportations of undocumented youth.

It was really empowering to see young people spearheading the change. There were many other actions, previous to the takeover of the President’s offices, and I truly believe it was the collective efforts of the undocumented youth movement that led to the change. President Obama and his administration didn’t just make that announcement because it was the “right” thing. They did it because they were pushed, right when it hurt them the most, when they were canvassing for re-election votes.  

SD: I echo every word Jenn just mentioned.  The action in the Obama Campaign office in Denver, CO during the 2012 election they participated in was such a pivotal moment not only for the film and for the undocumented movement but for me personally.  To witness first-hand the power and influence that a small group of people can have inspired me to be more active in what I believe in and feel is just and fair.  Their courage and vulnerability carried the weight of what our country stands for and what the people of America have fought for. They taught me that we can’t just sit idle waiting for something to happen, we have to make it happen and they did.  Although it was rewarding to see them accomplish this, I know it’s not enough and I know that we still have a long way to go before we can make real change and I know they will continue the long fight just as they kept walking across the country after DACA was passed.

VG: Across the country different groups are organizing and continuing to fight for State Dream Acts, which allow undocumented students to pursue higher education degrees and qualify for in-state tuition. Some states like California are going a step further and allowing students to apply for state-funded grants and scholarships. There are also more and more privately-funded sources of aid for students since undocumented students cannot apply for federally-funded financial aid. My greatest sense of achievement as an activist and community organizer is becoming one and using the skills I have learned to help others.

Vero, obviously, you now fight for the rights of other undocumented individuals. What is the specific dream (for yourself and for the others’ on whose behalf you work) that is worthy of your undeniable conviction?

VG: My goal is to help others find their voice and to fight for their rights no matter the issue at hand.

What’s the next big hurdle for the campaign and what is the greatest threat to continued progress?

VG: The biggest hurdle is sometimes not being aware of the resources that are available to you. Other than that, it’s funding. We don’t qualify for federally funded financial aid and even in-state tuition is expensive. Many times it takes us 6+ years to obtain a degrees that others can afford in 4.

JC: So now that there is a way for young people to remain in this country with two-year work permits and deferral from deportations, we have to create a pathway to citizenship. Right now DACA does not offer a pathway to citizenship so young people who qualify for DACA will continue to have to reapply and pay hefty fees every two years.

We also need to expand relief to the families– parents and young people who may be over 31 years of age (a requirement of DACA) because remember one of the biggest problems of the broken immigration system is the separation of families. There was a push for parents of U.S. citizen children and young people over the age of 31 through another announcement President Obama did called DAPA & Extended DACA. However, a federal district court in Texas issued an order that temporarily blocks these programs from being implemented so the programs are being held up in court as we speak. The programs are expected to benefit 4.4 million people. We have to push for that program to be implanted, and then we have to fight for their pathway to citizenship as well.

But the fight is long from over… There’s an estimate of 11 million undocumented people in the U.S. About 4.4 million would benefit for DAPA and Extended DACA and just under 1 million have already benefited from DACA… so that’s what? 5.6 million who will not be eligible for any relief? What happens to them? And what happens to those who have already been deported? The other dreamers? The families who have already been separated? There’s always more work to be done… Unfortunately, this system has been broken for too long and it has affected too many people.  

Surely we will all hear much about immigrant rights and immigration policy on the road to the 2016 elections…for readers who are interested in how their votes will affect immigrants’ rights: do you have particular insights or opinions about what to look for within candidates’ platforms?

JC:  Look at their track record. Politicians like to change their mind and do whatever it takes to win a vote during election time. Let their own votes speak for themselves. But it’s not enough to look through platforms and hear speeches. As a community, we have to continue to hold our legislators accountable. If they promise something, make sure they follow through.  That’s what the undocumented youth movement has been doing with President Obama’s administration… holding him accountable for all the promises he made during both campaigns… It’s been an uphill battle for them and many people have sacrificed a lot, but they are slowly making strides. By pushing President Obama, they have been achieving what others have been trying to do in Congress for decades.

What’s next for the film, specifically?

SD: The world premiere of American DREAMers at the LA Film Festival this year was just the beginning. The film is getting ready to participate in the San Francisco Latino Film Festival September 18, which we are very excited about as San Francisco is where the journey began for CAD.  We will then have a small theatrical run along with visiting universities and high schools across the country starting this fall and into next year. The film will then be released online and through television outlets by next spring, at the latest. We will be inviting communities across the country to host screenings, so stay tuned by visiting our website. We have been so fortunate to have an incredible amount of support thus far and hope to continue sharing the film and engaging in this important discussion on immigration.  We invite undocumented activists and allies to connect with us and use the film as a tool.  This film is very much theirs as it is ours.  

How can people see the doc and how can individuals/communities of undocumented activists and allies join the campaign?

VG: Get involved in your local immigrant rights group and know your rights so you can protect yourself and others.

American Dreamers screens at the San Francisco Latino Film Festival on Saturday, September 19th at 3pm at the Mission Cultural Center – 2868 Mission St, San Francisco, CA 94110

For further reading on immigration policies as they directly relate to higher educational opportunities for undocumented youth in the U.S., we highly recommend the case study “Young Lives on Hold: The College Dreams of Undocumented Students” by Roberto G. Gonzales, for College Board Advocacy.

If you’d like to support and join the Campaign for an American Dream, please take a look at the following sites and sign up for the American Dreamers’ newsletter on the documentary website.

10494599_833572716727604_4175325848259784278_n*CAD’s mission: “to walk across the nation from San Francisco to D.C. creating dialogue around the passage of the DREAM Act and immigration reform with the values of equality, unity, and diversity. We believe all people are equal, all those who are oppressed should be united, and our daily lives and the Campaign itself highlight diversity.

Coming out and keeping friends.

Miss Matters.

I have a friend I’ve known since I was a little, confused fourteen year old. We’ve been like sisters for years and since then, I’ve come out. She says she supports my “choice”


but doesn’t want to talk about sex or politics.

Even if I table the “choice” issue (she’s still kind of confused with how I could “give up” men and a “normal life”), 


I’m still stuck about how to proceed with our friendship. Continue reading

“It’s a love story, baby, just say, ‘Yes.'”

Dear Miss Matters,

I’ve only had one real significant relationship in my life. While I’d been in love before this particular man came along, he is the first person who has reciprocated my feelings and started a formal relationship with me. The experience, while not without its problems, has been amazing. No trust issues, no coercion, but magical romance and dogged support at times of my life when the closest of friends and even family turned tail. After several years dating him, I think he is the man of my life. Things on his end are the same. I mean that he feels like I’m the person he’d like to spend his life with. I’m his first real relationship too, though he did date a little in his teens whereas I didn’t at all. We discuss and plan ahead, both dreamily when it comes to future dreams and hopes and with our heads on tight when we talk finances and stability.  Continue reading

How to Live the Life You Imagine

By Julie Lythcott-Haims

One summer evening when I was twenty-seven years old, I sat on the concrete slab porch of my house and bawled like a baby. I was living in Silicon Valley with my wonderful husband, and worked as a first year associate at a prestigious Bay Area law firm where I earned plenty of money and praise for my hard work. Yet, somehow, inexplicably, when it came to my work life (which felt like my whole life), I was miserable and had a knot in my stomach every Sunday night at the thought of going back to work the next day. To make matters worse, everyone seemed to think I had a great job, because of the money, prestige and other trappings of success that came with it. Moreover, I knew I had no right to be miserable—my parents were loving and supportive and they’d given me a great education. And with that strong foundation, I thought I’d done everything right—the right schools, activities, achievements, and now, job choice. As I sat on the cold concrete behind my house that night I tried to imagine my life as a map and then took an aerial view of it, and understood that somehow I’d ended up on the extraneous periphery of my own life. Continue reading