That Time of Year- Halloween Costumes = Racism, Sexism, and Discourses of Oppression in Marketing Strategies

The eversodelightful George Takei* posted the following image  in his Facebook page this morning. 

At first, yeah, ouch, that's cold, right? 

Okay, well, I think before I was even done processing that initial reaction, I was already onto the overanalysis portion. So hold onto your butts and prepare yourselves for what's to come. 

Look at it again. There are three boys, dressed as superheroes. And a girl dressed as...

Annie. Or, rather, Little Orphan Annie.

So let's deconstruct  this a little.

Because sure, all four characters are orphans (hence the joke in the picture). But which is defined more by their orphan status than any of their actions? The girl.

And in their individual stories, who does the rescuing? The male characters are the saviors in their narratives. They're superHEROES, aren't they? They have angst and conflict, but they win, and they do the fighting. They beat the baddies themselves- sometimes with help, yeah, but still, direct confrontation between the main protagonist and the badddies in these narratives ultimately leads to the badddies getting beaten and the goodies coming out victorious.

In Annie's narrative,  sure, she's the protagonist, and she demonstrates a lot of strength and optimism in the face of a lot of terrible things. But she's not really the hero of her story (let's focus on the musical, since that's more familiar)- that could either be FDR and the Secret Service members that inform her and Warbucks that the people claiming to be her parents are impostors (by sweeping in at the end like a deus ex machina),  or even Daddy Warbucks himself, since he adopts her and gives her the family of which she dreamed. She gets what she wants in the end, but it's circumstantial and because other people give it to her. She has little to no agency the entire time.

So this speaks to a dialectic between fiction in general and comics specifically. While they exist, examples of well-rounded fictional female characters that are agents within their stories are of a far lower number than males with the same characteristics. Books, movies, TV- females that are the ones doing the doing and aren't focused  on some arbitrary Thing (or some traditionally feminine Thing like having babies or finding a man) are few and far between.

And then there are comics, where it's even  more difficult to find female characters that aren't used as the plot device for males or aren't objectified. I've said before that I'm struggling to write a piece about DC specifically, but really, while say Marvel is better, and Dark  Horse is even better than Marvel, overall, women and girls are still more often than not side characters that drive men's stories in comics, or their stories revolve around and are dependent on the actions of male side characters. And yes, they often die.

Women are too frequently brushed to the side in comics and superhero movies and merchandizing. Joss Whedon notes it, and it pisses  him off- which is pretty telling  and important, since  he's in charge of the Avengers films and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Hell, even a five-year-old girl notices it (and  actually, so does Joss's daughter, heh). It's like girls aren't expected to care or want to be heroes- they're just supposed to be rescued. Or be pink princesses. 

And then we get into the costume industry itself. Starting with  children, doing Google image searches with various forms of "child" along with "Halloween costume" bring up results that are usually pretty much the same. Here's the result for "child halloween costume." As you can see, the vast majority of the results are pictures of white children. There are a few children of color (gonna go with CoC from here on out for efficiency's sake), but notice how a lot of them are of characters specifically of color already (like friggin' Dora the Explorer, or Princess Tiana). A few generic ones have CoC, but they're very few and very far between. 

So while sure, the picture posted by Takei may be about "my kids," so one  would expect some similar physical characteristics among the younguns (although why be so traditionalist? What if the family adopted???), the fact remains that it is a photoshopped image of four separate children's costumes- and yes, all of them are white.

Think  I'm being hyperbolic? I wish  I was. Here are the Google  Image searches  for "Batman" with  "children costume," too. "Wonder Woman." "Superman." "Princess." "Prince." Yeah, there are a few CoC in each, but  the fact that they stand out so much drives the point  home, rather than refutes it- they're the exceptions proving the rule. 

It's that time of year- go to the nearest Halloween store, or just hit the costume section at your nearest Target, Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Shopko, etc. Divide the number of images of CoC by the total number of images of becostumed  younguns. I bet it'll be a single-digit number. Hell, it's prolly under five.

And then, while you're at it, head on over to the adult section. While this very easily could become entirely about the sexxed up stuff (which has lots of gender issues- the more "mature" costumes for dudes are funny, like  these- many of which are also insulting to women because they're cross-dressed in some way, which is in itself supposed to be a joke- while the "mature" ones for women are excuses to show T&A, like  this example, or just a GI search for "women costume  halloween"), just do a ratio of white-to-non-white and  see what happens.  I suspect it's prolly a little better than for the kids, but not by much.

And  then you get this shit  here. Adrienne at Native Appropriations has  written extensively on why this is absolutely not okay.  But let me  put in my own words why it's not okay for white people to dress up as Native Americans for Halloween.

A white person in a "Native American" costume  is dressed up as a stereotyped version of the peoples their ancestors raped, murdered, and stole land from in order for them to eventually have said costume in the first place. It's entirely colonialist and insensitive- and, frankly, kind of sick. Who are they, Norman  Bates? Do they feel the need to dress up like their victims in order to feel at peace? Well golly, Bob, howdy, I'm so sorry you feel bad about the history of violence between your ancestors and my own... Not. A legit way to feel better wouldn't involve further exploitation.

Tribute?  Bullshit. A tribute would be a real official apology from the government and some actual assistance in building some gorram infrastructure. It does not honor me when a white suburbanite dons feathers and a tomahawk and goes, "BOBOBOBOBOBOBO!" while drunk at a party. There's no reverence in that.

And also,  the costumes just say shit like "Native American." Generic, stereotypical iconography, and lumping everyone together in one huge amorphous hodgepodge. Never mind that every individual indigenous Nation has its own culture. The fact that you can get "Native American Princess" costumes today, in the fucking TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY demonstrates how white people are willfully ignorant of the diversityof indigenous cultures and are more concerned about projecting  their own values onto indigenous ones, rather than actually honoring them. Newsflash: THERE WERE NOT, NOR ARE THERE, NATIVE AMERICAN PRINCESSES OR PRINCES. Hierarchies of power and social capital, absolutely. But the concept of "royalty" wasn't a thing for North American  indigenous peoples. Hereditary titles sometimes, maybe, but those titles didn't work  in the same way as the titles people from colonial countries and kingdomes did (and yeah, a few that still do). 

So what's my point?

Well, it's that the Halloween/costume industry  is both a reflection and reinforcer of current discourses of sexism and racism in society  today, be they literary, specifically comic-book-oriented, or generally hitting at the (white) cultural zeitgeist in the U.S. That picture of those kids proves it. 

*And OHMYGOD, please say it right- it's "Tah-KAY," not, "Tah-KYE," people- it's Japanese, and would need an "ai" at the end instead of an "ei" to be pronounced the way you think it is. This is one of those tiny pet peeves of mine that irks me far more than is necessary, but I cannot STAND it when someone  says  his  name incorrectly. Prolly because 1) I took Japanese in high school, 2) it speaks to a larger discourse of ignorance of different cultures, and 3) I'm used to getting my own name mispronounced all the bloody time, so I take it personal for other people when theirs are said incorrectly.  

Dents

My department is one of the most (if not THE most) proportionally under-resourced at my university (either way, our grad students do have the lowest stipend for teaching and/or TAing, natch), so, go figure, we're in a building that kind  of sucks. Granted, there are older ones, but they don't really try to keep this one in good condition- there are at least rennovations in older buildings and maintenance constantly fixes things. And fixes them, not just tinkers and then leaves (like the maintenance crew at my previous apartment complex, oy vey...). In our building, stuff  is run-down, but rarely replaced.

Enter the women's restroom on the second floor, and one  of the two paper towel dispensers. I'm in my fourth year of grad school, and the dispenser on the left has been finnicky  the entire time. It would jam and you'd either have to stick your hand  inside to get anything out, or you'd have to just use the one on the right. It did this at least once a week, and while okay, it'd start working again within a day or two because maintenance or the janitorial staff or somebody would mess with it, it would invariably jam again.

Four years. Four fucking years.

I started sending emails about it in the spring semester, like in March or so. I sent  a few over the summer. And finally, I snapped on Monday and sent another the the same gal I'd been in correspondence with. I didn't mean to come across as huffy, but I think  I kind  of did:

I realize this is probably a stretch, but that same paper towel dispenser is once again malfunctioning. Is it possible for it to get replaced, rather than tinkered with? Or is there someone I could appeal to in order to try and make that happen? This thing keeps messing up every week, and I'm sure the staff fixing it is tired of doing that, just as much as we patrons of that restroom are tired of it not working.

Thanks,
Gabrielle

She informed me it was forwarded to someone else (and there were two names Ccd on her response), and I got an email Wednesday morning (at the top of a chain I hadn't been in the loop on) saying it had been replaced. Ladies and Gentlemen, my I present to you the Gabrielle ____ Memorial Paper Towel Dispenser:

Who did that? I did that, bitches!

Honestly, I don't know why I feel so fucking awesome about it, but  I do.

And here's the thing. It may be small, but  I do know that paper towel dispenser pissed a lot of women off. And I know they'll at least be glad it's there. Yeah, they'll probably wonder why the new one is there, and just assume the janitors/maintenance finally had had enough and, in all likelihood, not even consider the possibility that it took a total of thirteen emails (twenty if you count the ones I sent  months  and months  ago).

And I guess I see this as symbolic of life, and how I live. I may be a pushover and get walked over a lot, but I'm an advocate. I try  to change things. It's why I was on student  government as an undergrad and ended up on a first-name basis with the president of Whitman (he wrote me rec letters, yay), why I worked in special ed, why I was on my departments graduate student government, why I research what I research, why I want to move to Seattle and work for a nonprofit, and why I write this blog. Some of those things may seem more efficacious than others, and I recognize the truth to that.

But I get sad when people think they can't make a difference, why bother. There's that  saying, though, "You can't change  the world, but you can make a dent." And I want my life to be full of dents, and I want other people to realize that if they make dents, too, all those dents combined will result in something amazing. 

Lots  of dents

I've become much more jaded and pessimistic since I started grad school- between the number of times these institutions  around  me have let me down. And  the number of times the people here have let me down.  And the way things outside grad school have fallen down on me. 

But I still retain this wide-eyed, naive hope that I can make a real dent. Even if it's small.

And I still try to make  minuscule ones every day. By doing nice things for other people, whether it's helping someone get their bike onto the rack on the bus (Wednesday) or buying lunch for a stressed out friend (today) or helping people I love like  family through some hard times (ongoing). Maybe those aren't going to change the world, but those dents? They matter, even if for only the moment  they're happening (bike lady), to the people involved. Call it paying it forward, if you will- maybe  the random people I help, or the friends I help, will do it, too.

And all those dents combined would make a pretty shiny world.

Intent And Saying You're Sorry

One of the apologist arguments that gets tossed about a lot when I get into discussions about racism, sexism, classism, or other "isms" I notice that are harmful and oppressive (and usually pervasive) is the argument of intent. I point out that an aspect of a movie, article, picture, is sexist or racist (usually not saying the whole thing is, but rather some specific element), and someone (and yes, usually a wealthy white dude) says, "But they didn't intend to be racist, so what's  the big deal?" And it's often followed up with a, "Why should they apologize?" And, really, it even happens in regular conversation about mundane things- someone will just say something that hurts someone else's feelings, and they get huffy and demand to know why they should apologize, since they didn't mean to hurt that person.

It baffles me, and I think, on some levels, the perpetrators (or their defenders) are afraid of looking  like this:

I know this is a kind of unsophisticated way to go after the particular (il)logic I'm talking about, but I just think this is utter bullshit. Think about this a lot  more simplistically. 

People apologize for accidents all the time, in everyday circumstances, and in more extreme ones. If I accidentally hit someone with a door, I'm going to apologize profusely because I feel absolutely terrible. Hell, I apologize like crazy whenever I almost hit someone with a door. I know I'm kind of an extreme example, but I'm sure you, reader, would apologize if a door makes unintentional contact with someone else at your doing.

Or think of this  one: We're held monetarily accountable if we get into a car accident that's our fault somehow (say, a missed stop sign that results in a T-bone), and that act of the car insurance company paying the damages is of the same symbolic significance as the apology I give when I hit someone with a door. 

The reason is there was harm done to another person. It's not like I set out to slam the person in the face, or T-bone them in the intersection. But society recognizes that when harm is done, compensation is due to the person that was harmed.

Yet forms of oppression, harmful and hurtful things, are excused away by people because, well, the thing wasn't intended to be harmful.

This relates to my previous post about April Fool's Day, or when talking about how silence functions with respect to harmful discourses- the ones doing the harm, or the people defending them, turn it around onto the person pointing out the harm and make them look like the one doing harm- it's implied the whistle-blower is seeking out things to bitch about, or making shit up, or whining too much and just need to grow a pair.

Using the "intent" argument is an excuse for assholery and a tool for oppression. It's not hard to apologize, or even to acknowledge having acted inappropriately toward someone else. 

Yet it's so bloody hard for this "intent" thing to go away when issues of "isms" come up. And this in itself is harmful, because it gives people a free pass. As long as they don't intend to do any harm, claims of harm are invalid. And this can lead to all sorts of justifications for inappropriate, hurtful behavior. Not only that, but it can delegitimize the claims of those calling out the BS because of their positionality.

See, here's the thing. A claim of non-intent coming from a member of a dominant group equates exoneration is "inherently" invalid  because, guess what? The person making this claim is also part of the group that writes the rules of the game. And, inherently, subconsciously, then, that person assumes disagreement is wrong, because what they value in other circumstances is structurally valued as normatively better, anyway. 

And I would also like to point out that there are sometimes double-whammies, too. I've always been irked by hearing, "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," or the like from people. I've felt condescended to, like they were trying to make it seem like it was my fault, still, in a backhanded way. Well, I guess I wasn't making it up- this little page explains how to apologize properly, and the first part is a fine articulation of what I had in the back of my mind for ages. But yes, rather than apologizing for what has been done, the attention gets shifted onto the reaction, framing the conversation around that. And that's not good, because it goes right back to above. 

I feel like I've said this before in my blog, but I'll just say it  here: One  of the difficult things  with pointing out something bad is that the person that did whatever caused the harm makes the other person out to be the bad one. Here's how it plays out:

A: Hey, you just punched me in the face. Could you at least apologize?
B: I don't think "punch" is really the right term for it- I was just flailing my arms and just happened to have my hands in fists, and your face just happened to get in the way. In fact, my hand  really hurts. How dare you accuse me of trying to punch you when it's my hand that's probably broken! You should be the one apologizing to me, and probably paying for my medical bills, too. 

I just get so gorram sick of the douchebags that know they're being douchebags that bear down and put all of the blame on the people they've upset. Which leads me to two examples  that dovetail slightly, but that ultimately end up in the same place.

Item 1: Pennygate*

The  dudes at Penny Arcade posted a comic with some dialogue that  upset anti-rape advocates, persons that have experienced sexual  assault, and some other people that just found their  joke ("...raped by dickwolves") in poor taste. This was a couple years ago, sure,, but the reponses from the dudes were pretty lackluster, and the gorram thing kept coming up over and over. I'll give you a link  here with a good summary of the events, better than I could- but  note how the woman writing it  is swearing them off. Why? Because every time they get called  to the carpet, they give a half-assed apology  at best, followed by some pretty crude backlash aimed at the people  they, in theory, were just apologizing to. So most recently, while wearing a shirt with the punchline of their rape joke on it, one  of the Penny Arcade bros  hunkered down again (and made no move to stop the cheering from the audience, as well as says they've never done anything wrong). And  then there's yet another apology. And you know  what? I just don't fucking buy it. I seriously don't.  They apologize and then repeat the behavior and go to great lengths to throw it in the faces of the people they've hurt. That's, at best, insincere, at worst, sociopathic. They've also done a great job of demonstrating they really don't give a flying fuck  about other people's opinions about other things and would rather make fun of people expressing  malcontent, rather  than engaging in any sort of productive dialogue. The Penny Arcade dudes are just spoiled, entitled little boys that don't recognize their upper-middle-class, male, white privilege, and they're never actually going to be  sorry.  They haven't learned or moved toward "a progressive goal" (as is  claimed in that interview). As they "go forward," they're just doing the same bullshit every single time.

Item 2: Harleygate

I'm working on a difficult post about DC right now because I could write a huge essay on how  DC is so problematic for me to read or be fan of, as a woman of color and disability advocate- but I've always felt much more  emotionally connected to the DC Universe. But the most recent debacle has  been over a contest for new artists depicting Harley Quinn in various suicidal moments, no context, no dialogue. The last panel, in particular, was pretty awful because there's the specific instruction for her to be  naked in it, thus not only fetishizing but sexualizing suicide. Here is a link to the contest page, for your own objective look. There are lots  of reasons this  was messed up for a lot  of people, including  that it was announced right before National Suicide Prevention Week.  Jim Lee, DC artist  currently on Superman stuff, responded about the Harleygate backlash, and did quite a lot  of the same stuff DC and fanboys do to people that say there's anything remotely wrong with a piece of nerd culture, usually a game or comic. Basically saying the fans that are upset are doing it wrong, that they just don't  understand- then he very condescendingly makes some outlandish argument that is supposed to be, Well, DUH! He insinuates that if you're upset,  you're not only stupid, but also not a real fan of comics because you just don't "get" them.  And that's pretty insulting. Then DC itself apologized, as well as one of the two main architects of the contest. And while I kind of buy  the one by  the artist, I don't buy it coming from DC. DC has fucked up enough that stuff like  this exists. Flub  after flub after mistake- they keep losing  creative minds because the company wants to uphold the devaluation of women, persons of color, and anybody  that isn't heterosexual. I think the reason  this entirely misguided contest went through, and the week before National Suicide Prevention Week, to wit, is because it fit quite  comfortably  within the overall discourse that DC sends out to its audience- that  women are sex objects of no worth except to jack  off to or serve as plot points for the stories  of the male characters. The fact of the matter is, DC is a huge corporation, and if they  didn't expend some resources to figure out that, if nothing else,  the timing was entirely inappropriate, boo; but if they  did know about the temporal problems here and didn't do anything, well,  that's just even worse, and they're really  no better than the Penny Arcade bros. So I don't buy DC's apology any more, either. And I'm not sure  if I'll be willing  to buy any more products with DC's name on them, at least  for a while. Just because I'm so upset over the Harley thing, and some other stuff they've done recently (like forcing out Batwoman's writers- because they, the writers, wanted her to marry  her girlfriend, who is, gasp, another woman!). 

In all honesty, I think it takes more strength to sincerely apologize. To own up to one's actions, take responsibility  for them and any repercussions, and then  work on changing the behavior. Bearing down  and being a stubborn asshat is actually pretty cowardly. The Penny Arcade bros aren't "brave" for "sticking up to"... who? Rape survivors? DC isn't "brave" for not pulling the contest despite the who... people that have lost loved ones to suicide? 

It's the intent behind the apology that makes the difference, not necessarily  the original action. If you keep fucking up and saying you're sorry, you're doing it wrong. The apology needs to come linked  to the intent to change the behavior. If that doesn't happen, you're full of crap. 

And power matters. Pulling the "intent" card during an "apology" denies the privilege of the person making  the apology. If what you were doing is an echo if a systemic discourse of oppression, it doesn't matter whether you intended the harm or not, because that discourse has made the decision for you. Apologize for upholding that, not hurting the person's feelings. Acknowledge that there are norms and institutions whose existence depends on the marginalization of others.

Or just admit it was a dick thing to say. Or that it was your bad and you won't  do it again.

*I'm not sure if this nomenclature is a thing, but I thought  that sounded snazzy.

How (and how NOT) to Comfort Someone

I know I'm a mama bear. 

I'm on the left, in case you were wondering

I take care  of others all the time, it's my natural modus operandi. And usually, it energizes me. But every now and then, I'm tired, and I'm hurting, and I just want to let out my own troubles. And then I start to (start to-I don't remember the last time it was complete) confide in someone. And by the end of the conversation...

I'm comforting them.

Wait...

"WHAT?!"

Sometimes, it doesn't really affect me either way- I may not feel any less crappy by the time the convo is over, but I don't feel an increase in crappy feelings, either. But  other times, it makes me feel worse, because it signals that the person I was interacting with doesn't care enough to let me finish or really only keeps me around  to serve as free therapist. And whether or not I'm more upset, I'm usually at least a little annoyed. 

PROTIP: If someone says they're sad, immediately saying you're sad, too, is THE WRONG THING TO SAY. Seriously, it negates their feelings and makes it about you. If you want to comfort someone, keep your own shit to yourself, at least at first- start out by  acknowledging their feelings and prove you've contemplated them before offering your own shitty shit. If you don't send a message that you've heard them, they won't feel heard- and it'll come across as if your only motivation for talking at the time is for them to hear you.

Trust me, I'm an expert comforter. I earned my Ph.D. in comforting others before I was ten. So believe me when I say, the worst thing you can do when trying to make someone feel better is make the conversation about yourself*. Sure, present parallels as a way of demonstrating you understand, but always bring it back to the other person's feelings before you finish your statement(s)- finish telling your experience with a reflection on theirs. For example, the first three lines of a conversation:

"I'm feeling  kind  of crappy right now."
"Aw, how come?"
"Well, my dog died a year ago today, and every dog I've seen for the past week has made me remember him. I don't even know if I'll ever be able to get another dog again."

The Proper Response:
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I understand. He was a really great dog, irreplaceable, I agree. You know, I lost my cat five years ago, I grew up with her. It took me two years to get a new one, and I still miss her sometimes. So I know it's hard, and it's okay if it still hurts, even years from now. But maybe someday you'll be able to get another dog. Not a replacement, because it's not like you can just replace an important part of your life. No  other dog will ever be the same, but that's okay. He was YOUR dog, and special for that! But a new dog for a new kind of companionship may someday happen, too. And you know what? It's okay if it doesn't."

The Wrong Response:
"Oh, I know  what that's like. When my cat died, I was so sad, I didn't even eat for two days. I was a wreck, because gee wiz, that really sucked. I was so sad, I didn't want to go to school. I kept crying in class and expecting her to be there when I got home, then I'd cry when she wasn't. I mean, I still miss her, and I was a kid when that happened. Whenever I see a cat that looks kind of like her, I remember how she crawled on my shoulders as I was trying to do homework and I get this sinking feeling in my stomach."

Do you see why? The first offers comfort, the second is a passive request for it. The second barely acknowledges the person whose dog died, while the first is mostly about that. The first uses the personal experience as  reference point, the second is all about that personal experience.

You shouldn't make it about you. If they say  they're upset first, it should be about them. Even just saying, "I'm sad, too," without offering any words of encouragement (sorry, an "internet hug" doesn't count) is potentially hurtful, because it signals you'd rather discuss yourself instead of the other person's feelings.

Now, here's the thing. It's okay for you to be in pain and not up to dealing with theirs. So what then? You tell them that, plain and simple. "I wish I could help you, but I'm so messed up over my own shit right now, I'm kind of useless.." And if they offer for you to share your stuff, say no. If they persist, only offer your problems  up if  they say it'll distract them from theirs- this sometimes genuinely works for me, which is why I already said it's sometimes energizing to care for others. It does sometimes give us something to focus our attention on apart from our own shitty lives, so if they say as such, then it's okay. Otherwise, try to avoid the conversation altogether if you know they're unhappy and you're not happy enough to provide the kind of comfort they need.

This may genuinely come as shock, folks, but part of why I don't often confide in others (for the real stuff- complaining about the bureaucratic failings of my department or something is small potatoes compared to the REAL shit going on in my life, I promise) is that it HARDLY EVER WORKS. I'm stuck in this terrible cycle of everyone expecting me to be the one comforting them, no matter what the blazes is going on, so if they're already upset, they take me initiating conversation with them as a chance to unload on me. I've had conversations that started with me sobbing so hard my chest hurt turn into me hugging the other person, petting their head, and telling them it's going to be okay. 

And no, not eeeeverybody does this to me, but more do than don't. And it's enough that I just don't bother talking to the people that don't because I'm so used to keeping things to myself. 

So back to the example. I realize  that no, not everyone would respond to the second one like I would- my instinct to care for others means I'd answer the unstated request: I'd tell that person I'm so sorry, do they think they'll ever get a cat again, etc. I'd ask them for happy/funny stories about the cat to remind them that while the loss was sad, the contribution the cat made was a net positive. And I'd crack jokes and do all I could to get them to laugh.

So this  means  that yeah, okay, maybe this isn't universal truth, but I know this is how I respond. And I know I'm not the only one. And everyone tells me I'm so good at comforting people, how do you do it? And so instead of saying, "BOOBS!" like I usually do to be funny, this is some legit, serious advice for making other people feel better.

So here's a very clear how-to, based off of a combination of what I know has worked when providing the comfort, and what I have experienced on the receiving end as helpful or NOT helpful: 

• When someone expresses being upset, sad, etc. (whether they came to you or it's because you asked what's up, how they are, etc.), do not react by presenting your own crappy situation (current or not). Start out by acknowledging how they feel- give it a thorough verbal contemplation. 
• If you absolutely CANNOT keep in your own  shit, be as brief and vague about it as possible- only say enough for them to understand that your empathy comes from the fact that your situation is/was similar. 
• Also, for the love of God, don't shoehorn your own story- if your only way of comforting is through sharing your own experiences, even if they aren't applicable, then, well, stop comforting, or just nod and encourage but don't say much else. It's possible to comfort people WITHOUT talking about yourself, after all. But it needs to actually pertain to the circumstances.  NEVER try to equate, say, insurance problems with someone losing a loved one. Believe it or not, a common element does not remotely equate the same experience. Not only does it make you seem even  more selfish than if you poorly present just something genuinely similar (i.e. they lost their grandma to cancer, you lost yours a while back in a car accident, so you spend a very disproportionate amount of time on that (thus not following the above bullet)), but also makes you come across as not understanding them at all (because if you somehow thought these two things are the same, you must have been the wrong person to come to, because you obviously misunderstand completely).
• Take cues from them both in the present conversation and based off of what you know of them as to whether they're seeking advice or just a chance to vent (and sometimes also hear that it'll be okay). And for  your own well-being,  if you know they're the kind of person that argues with advice, no matter how good, don't give it. Even if they seem to be seeking it, play dumb. If they ask directly, say you don't know, or give such a non-answer that they'd have nothing with which to argue. If that frustrates them, say something like, "I don't think you're ready for advice yet, it's still too soon, why don't you process how you're feeling, first?" or something. Dealing with hostile comfort seekers is tricky, and you shouldn't be attacked by someone you're trying to show kindness to, so it's okay to dodge a confrontation over advice. Their comfort shouldn't be through bashing you. If that seems to be the only thing that makes them feel better, reassess how important that person is to you, and at least consider avoiding  them when they're sad.
• Actively listen, meaning demonstrating you're listening and actually hearing them. The most common form is restating some of what they've said  in the form of a question. (But be careful, asking for something like the date or time- unless there's a temporal aspect to their upset- makes it seem like you're more concerned about superficial details than the actual meat of the matter.) You can also do this by nodding, maintaining eye contact, and making little "Mm-hmm" and "Uh-huh" sounds or saying, "yeah," "okay," etc. And, "Go on, I'm listening," if there's a pause or they seem to get hesitant. 
• Never end on your own story- always come back to theirs and demonstrate how what you learned (if  it's in the past) or are learning (if it's current) from yours can help them get through their own situation.
• If you're down with touch, offer to hug. If they want one, they'll take it. If they don't, they won't. Sometimes people averse to touch may feel like a hug could help, so give them the option. If you're both comfortable with it, maintain physical contact by letting them lean on you, holding their hand, rubbing  their arm, etc.
• If you know they like comfort through physical contact, but you don't like touching people, try to gather the guts to at least touch their arm or something once or twice- if they know you don't usually do that, it'll mean a LOT to them. 
• Put. Your. Phone. Away. If it makes an alert noise (text, email, FB, etc.), don't check it (although if  it seems  to keep going off, silence it). If it's ringing, apologize and stop it. If you do end up needing to mess with it  because some sound won't let up, don't have it out for more than a few seconds. I hate that I should need to say  this, but I've had people answer their phone on me while I'm in the middle of crying when  the received call wasn't even an emergency (and  then a few of them wondered why I said for them to never mind when they eventually hung up).
• Don't blame them for their suffering in a mean way- it's possible to gently help them to understand how they've contributed to the situation, but this should also come directly with solutions and praise for recognizing that once they do so.
• Don't downplay the situation to the point of delegitimizing their feelings (as in saying, "It's not that bad, why are you so upset?" in a way suggesting they're overreacting and being  irrational). 
• Avoid offering "advice" that comes across as judgy or know-it-all-esque. Be helpful, not bossy or condescending. 
• Don't change the subject too soon because doing so indicates you're uncomfortable or don't care, thereby demonstrating you were the wrong person to turn to, and thus making  the person feel dumb. It's okay to change the subject, but you need to feel 100% certain they're okay with that- so the best way is to either wait for them to do it, or ask if they feel any better or need to keep talking about whatever it was.

I know that's a lot, so if there's one thing you take home from this post, it's this:

Please, think about it before you offer your own sob story to someone that's already crying. You may just make it worse.

Now go forth and comfort someone you know, and take this image with you for strength:

Right on, dog.

*Okay, prolly not always the worst thing, but it's pretty bad. See the bullet list to notice some other things you could mistakenly do wrong. 

Spider Woman

I spent over two hours talking to a friend in their car as they were dropping me home last night. About stuff. We're helping each other through some pretty messed up shit, shit we wouldn't wish on our worst enemies, let alone people we care about, so I'm not about to go into specifics, here, except that of something I observed during our conversation.

As I've said before, I don't dig spiders. Well, last time this friend dropped me off, there were two huge ones on opposite corners of the window in which the car was parked and facing. So no way  to avoid passing at least one of them, even if I went around the back of the car. This had me freaked out, to the point where I turned my body away from the windshield while talking to this friend in order to not see them. The friend noticed, so I explained, and when I eventually got out, they did likewise and (slightly seriously) formed a barricade with their body between myself and the arachnids.

So this time, when we pulled up, my friend was the first to say, "I see no spiders," again, slightly seriously.

"I was looking, too," I admitted.

So then we started talking, and I looked over to the doorway into my building, and holyshit. Three spiders right there, one of which was in the process of weaving its web. Then I looked over at the patio to the right, and SHIT, two more on the right side, one right near the banister, the other about 2/3 to the ceiling.

Fuck.

So I tried to look at my friend as we talked, but gradually I lost control and couldn't help but stare from spider to spider. I grew goosebumps, despite it being hot in the car (summer, you know), I got shivers a few times (my friend didn't notice, thank goodness). I was not looking forward to getting inside. It became almost four in the morning, but there was a small portion of me that sincerely didn't want to get out of that car because it would mean passing those spiders.

I know, I'm fucked up.

But after a while, I noticed a moth darting up against the glass on the the door to my building, the glass in which, in one spot, the spider weaving its web had situated itself. I kept wondering if it was going to fly into one of the webs, and it seemed to have a few near misses, but it always scraped by. It  even made one of the spiders scramble to that portion of the web, but apparently this moth was pretty damn good at its own evasive tactics and self defense. And this moth  was at it for over an hour of the time I was in this friend's car. 

Then after a big hug from my friend, I looked again (because I had to, it was compulsive).

"Whoa," I said, "looks like one of them has caught something."

My friend said, "Hm, you're right, I wonder what that is. Oh, and now it's time for dinner."

"That's nature," I said as the spider started to attack. My friend  made a half-hearted chuckle, unable to hide their discomfort.

So then we both remained silent as the spider that had been spinning the web earlier went after its prize- a rather  large something that started to struggle. In the light of the bulbs inside, I could see the shimmer of wings- the spider had caught a dragonfly with a body a good 3/4 larger than its own (so this was a huge fucking dragonfly). The spider tapped the dragon fly a few times, but  just  with its legs, as the dragonfly thrashed and fought and struggled not to get bitten.

"Oh," my friend  commented, "it fell."

"Yeah," I said, "but it's probably covered in goop, and it'll just die anyway."

"Yeah, it looks like the spider's having to fix its web," my friend said as the spider started re-spinning.

We finished our conversation, had another hug, and I stepped out and hesitated at the door. I looked up at the spider in the window, over to my left at the moth flitting near another web, and down at the dragonfly on the ground.

And for a moment, I felt like the dragonfly. I couldn't tell if  it  was dead or not, and I was too freaked out by the huge spider over my head to check it. But I felt like what I had witnessed it do was like me, or that I was like it. Like  all of my fighting and struggling  doesn't matter- in the end, there's no hope, nothing left, and I'm trapped, wrapped up in the mess I created, and no one is there to save me. I fall, and I can't get up, and my place and purpose is of no consequence. And  even if someone could make it better, they don't, because they're too selfish  or scared.  The thing I couldn't accept, though, was that the dragonfly was as good as dead- it had absolutely no hope. 

And then I remembered that little moth as I went up the stairs. Sure, it may not have been making the best life decisions, but it always got out. I thought maybe  I was like the moth for a moment, but then realized, no. Because the trouble I've been in throughout my life, the vast majority  of it has been things over which I had absolutely no control whatsoever. Sure, there are some times where I've put my heart on the line and had it crushed, but I think getting your heart broken because someone doesn't feel the same as you or because you didn't get selected for whatever thing you applied for or something is way different from getting caught doing something like breaking the law or injuring yourself doing some ridiculously dangerous stunt. And for the love of Pete, that moth was eventually going to get caught by a web, or burned in a lamp or something. I had no hopes for that moth- it was going to meet a pretty bad demise, and I wouldn't really call it "untimely," unless it was meant in the "surprisingly delayed" sense. It'll eventually self destruct.

And then, oddly enough, I thought of the spider after getting inside. The spider that was just doing what it was doing, and when what it thought was an opportunity came across, did everything it could to get what it wanted. The spider that when its home/life was literally torn up, it literally started weaving it back into place without really losing much time. Sure, the web would never be the same again, but that doesn't mean the spider wouldn't do its best with what it had. And it would try again, once the web  was repaired and another opportunity presented itself. The spider would keep going. It would move on, but it would keep trying. 

Wow.

I'm a spider?

I've faced a lot of hardship. I've watched my hopes get dropped, been dropped myself plenty of times. I've thought I could take a chance more than once and get something great out of it, but I've faced disappointment more times than is "fair." I've rebuilt every time, though. And I don't know if I'm stronger for it, but I know I'm better for it.

Batman took on the form of something that frightened him in order to instill fear in the hearts of those he was against. So does that  make me Spider Woman?

It was WAAAY too difficult to find a picture
of her that didn't have her looking like
she was either having or trying to have sex. And
this one is a bit booby for my tastes. Ugh.

I uh, don't plan on swinging around in a spider costume any time soon. And honestly? I don't think  this  will change my opinion of spiders all that much, if at all. But I like to think I'm tough like  a superhero, resilient. I re-spin my web, meaning I rebuild whatever is left of myself and  my life every time something bad happens. And I go on and keep doing my best to be a good person, to do good things, be good to others, and I don't give up, damnit.

Invasive Maneuvers

Me being  me, I had to search for
one with braille

I had a dream last night I need to share  because, well, feminism.

I was in a bathroom, set up more like a women's locker room (there were, in fact, lockers and benches). While about to exit the stall, I heard a woman on the other side of the door say, "What are you doing here?" in a semi-frightened tone.

"Men's bathroom is full," a male voice said. "Principal said we could use this one." He sounded pleased with himself.

"Yeah," another male said, "it's not like we're going to cause any trouble." His tone was very, uh, insincere. 

My dream-self thought, "Aw, HELL no," and as I flushed the toilet, I undid my jeans (well, capris, but not that it matters too much) and pulled them down a little so the bright pink of my panties showed through the opening made by the button and zipper. I unlocked the door, jammed my thumbs in my poockets, and stepped out, doing  my best gorrilla impersonation, complete with kind of sticking  my jaw out a little as the first guy told a woman he liked her necklace in a way that makes my real-self's skin crawl as I think back on it, now- he obviously  wasn't talking about her necklace.

The two guys were standing right outside my stall. I very slowly looked both up and down, head to toe, letting my eyes hover over their crotches and shoulders. I did this until they looked confused.

"Hey ladies!," I shouted in my best cat-call tone, "there's MEN in the house!"

Taking my cue, a bunch of other women started whisling and ow-OWing and oo-la-laaing, and a crowd assembled. 

One said, in what I recognized as the first voice, "Yeah, that's right." He stared at the top of my panties as he went on to say, "And we like what  we see." 

"Honey," another woman said, "you have no idea." And she stared at his ass. 

The next few comments are kind of a blur, but basically, the other women helped me cat-call these guys and  make the same kind of comments to them that women get tossed at them all the time. Some highlights I do remember, though:

"I love your pecks, can I motorboat them?"
"That hair, it's silky enough to pull."
"It's a good thing you have permission to be in here, otherwise I'd have to force myself on you... in a citizen's arrest."

There  was also this one kind of hilarious moment where the second guy said to a gal in a hoodie, "And  what, are you planning on hooding me?"

Her response was, "Please, I wouldn't stick my hood in something that nasty, gonorrhea ain't my style."

There was also a moment at which I said, "Mmmm, I looove objectifying men!" and the other women cheered and whistled their agreement.

So then the next thing I knew, I and a bunch of the other  women were at group interview with some news crew in a classroom (because apparently I was back in high school?), and it seemed to be going okay. The interviewer, a dude in a suit, asked why I started the whole thing, and I kind of monologued at him. The  exact wording is gone, but  here's basically what I said, in conjunction with a remark  by the guy about unisex bathrooms.

"I use  unisex bathrooms all the time. This isn't about that. I use those when  I feel like  it. When I go into a women's restroom, it's because I want to be in a safe space, away from men. Sure, gender is a social construct, but so is the violence  against women that's so normalized in our culture. A women's restroom is like a safe haven from that. So I was enraged when two dudes came in and invaded that safe space. I mean, I get objectified the moment I step outside those bathroom doors, I don't need it in there, too. So I thought, why not show them why their arrogance is exactly why they shouldn't be there? Give them a taste of their own medicine?" 

Then at some point, Hoodie Woman was singled out, presumably for her "biting wit," and I added, "And I'm glad you handled it that way, especially."

"Whhy?" the interviewer asked.

"Because," I said, "given that the other guy  had been so overt in staring at my underwear and saying he  liked what he saw, I had absolutely zero expectations of him, and if she hadn't said something, I would have in order to avoid him making a tasteless Treyvon Martin joke."

The interviewer seemed flabbergasted. "You really think he'd do that."

"I had no reason not to."

"Well," the interviewer said, "that's the perfect chance to bring the two men in here," and he started to turn around and gesture, but I interrupted as a bunch of the other women  tenssed up around me.

"Stop right there!"

"I beg your pardon?" he said, confused.

"Are you seriously going to bring those two in there without  even asking if we're comfortable with it?"

"Well, I don't see why it's a problem?" His tone  made it sound like a question.

I sighed exasperatedly and said, "Because that would be  a total repeat of the bathroom. We were in a safe place, when some dude on high gave some other dudes permission to invade it, without even mentioning it to us. Right now, we're in what  was moments ago another safe place, where we were expressiong some deeply personal, sometimes traumatic stuff to you, and you, a dude, want to call in the same dudes that violated us before? How can you possibly think that's okay?"

"But aren't you the person that said you, quote, 'Love objectifying men?'"

"Wait," I said, 

"hold the goddamned phone. I see what's actually happening, here. You're intending to villify us, and make those two assholes out as the victims here, as if we all sought them out and bullied and intimidated them of our own design. Fuck that. They invaded our space with every intent to belitttle and objectify us and make us feel small. All we did was prevent that from happening by doing the exact shit they intended to do to us. If you want to call us the baddies, here, if you're going to defend them, you're doing the exact kind of stuff men do whenever they defend that kind of behavior toward women when they get called to the carpet. What, did they mean to compliment us? Make us feel good about ourselves? Let me guess, they love women,  so why would they evver be intentionally disrespectful  Why  is  it okay for men  to so overtly express their appreciation for women's bodies but women can't?"

"Well, isn't this situation different?" he said.

"You're Goddamned right it is. They came into our safe place with ill intent. On the authority of a male principal. These dudes have no idea what it's like to have those things said to them when they're alone at night, trying to get to their car or their home. They have no idea what it's like to be afraid to walk  their dog. They have no idea what it's like to have threats to their physical safety made casually, as if it isn't a big  deal, or to be told to calm down or they're overreacting if they express upset at it. They  have no idea what it's like to have their own safe place invaded like that- because when the fuck was the last time you heard of some executive order to let women use a men's restroom when the women's is overcrowded? How often do you see women's restrooms with lines out the door and men's almost empty? If a woman went in there when it had a bunch of men in it, she'd be shamed, possibly even sued or something by some fanatical MRA afraid she was going to cut off his penis. So maybe we assumed the worst of them off the bat, but a man would assume the worst of a woman in his restroom, and besides, the way they were talking, as if they owned the place, they  gave no indication they  just wanted to do their business and get out."

"But you showed them your underwear, didn't you?"

"Right, so that gives them cause to treat me and any other woman like shit?  Then I had every  right to treat them like shit, since one of them had on a tank top that showed way  too much arm for polite company, and the other had one too many buttons undone on his shirt. Please, spare me. You've heard of rape culture, haven't you? Or slut shaming? You wanna call me a tramp for having the top of my underwear exposed, then call them tramps for showing too much skin."

"But there were a dozen of you and only two of them."

"Good. Now they have an inkling of what it's like for us every Goddamned day. Because women feel vastly outnumbered because the system is bent in a direction that leaves us at the bottom and isolated. We feel helpless, scared, and when a place we usually feel safe gets violated, we'll defend it. Because we aren't alone. We're all in one."

And that's pretty much it.

Yeah, I know, it got a little corny, there, but hey. I'm kind of a walking bottle of high fructose syrup sometimes. 

I'm glad I defended our actions, but the thing is, I think, of anything in this scenario, that is the least likely thing to happen. I'm pretty sure if some dudes did go into a women's restroom and they got cat-called and stuff like that, they'd definitely get portrayed as victims of some awful, awful bullying campaign. And the women involved would be portrayed as deplorable, horrible people, and not given a chance to defend themselves. Sure,  objectification of anyone  is bad, but guys going into a space filled entirely with women and intending to be douchebags would be defended by society, and if those women tried to defend themselves, they'd be depicted as the ones doing wrong. 

The fact that the dudes started off as rude is important,  here- there's this horrible tendency for lewd men to get defensive when called out, as if women should thank them for painting scenarios of assault in their heads. When women say something back in defense, they're a "bitch" or a "skank" or whatever else- we have no right to respond, we're supposed to, literally, lie back and take it.

That's rape culture.  

And I gotta say, dream-Me is pretty  damn clever- the thing with showing my panties was perfect, really. Because as indicated by my monologue, yeah, one of the dudes was in a tank top that exposed his muscles very overtly, and the other guy had a button-up shirt on that was half undone, exposing his pecks and part of his stomach muscles. Yes, the dudes in my dream were attractive- flat-out gorgeous, really. But that isn't the point. It would be entirely inappropriate for me to shout something at them if I passed them on the street, but they had entered a women's restroom on the pretense of leering and staring at the women in there. And they had no shame in it, were open about it. So I was criticized for having my jeans partially open, but nothing was said to them about how they were both only partially dressed. The double standard there is exactly the kind of double standards in reality. When women are objectified, their wardrobe  and even why there were in the space in the first place is questioned- but we're supposed to feel sorry for dudes with ill intent. 

Sigh.

I have stuff to do, but let me end by saying I hope that last part in my last speech matters. I'm so sick of slut shaming and double standards and being afraid to walk River by myself. Society needs to change, and men that think it's okay to whistle and say they want to pull my hair need to be put in their place. Not necessarily by being scared shitless, but at least by  being made to realize their behavior is damaging. And that they're huge assholes for thinking it's okay.

Oh My Fucking God (of War)

I'm stuck in God of War, and fucking pissed as fuck. Why? Because the last fucking level is nothing but a bunch of rotating spike  things you either have to walk  across or climb up.

It's God of WAR, not God of Spikey Death Traps!!! But I've been trapped in the last level for a total of over two hours. I have it stuck on the "YOU ARE DEAD" screen right now. Because I beat one of the above spikey walls, but I keep dying on another, and the checkpoint is in between, and the nearest safepoint is quite a bit before the first rotating column. So. If I turn the system off, I lose the first one, so I feel just as trapped as Kratos, the dude you play as.

And spare me any thoughts on how this proves I'm not really a gamer or just not good  enough. These fucking things aren't about how good you are at video games, they're about abysmally monotonous game mechanics and a system setting you up to fail. Honestly, when the only time I've ever had the game offer for me to change to easy mode happens because of stupid challenges and traps like this, even though the mode only affects combat, there's a problem.

I was hoping to be able to give this game a good review, but shit like this makes me wary of going higher than a 6 on a scale from 1-10.

I mean, don't get me wrong, for a PS2 game, the in-game graphics are actually pretty fantastic, and so is the world design. But for fuck's sake, it shouldn't be this hard to push a box around or get through a room because of rolling blades. I've died more times because of booby traps than I have in combat, and that's bad. The dudes making this game made  the challenges too difficult. What's the point in offering to make it easier if that's not even going to distill what keeps killing me?

It's all fun and games until someone loses a hand.

The combat has been good, though- I've even come across a few battles where I know I was supposed to have magic left (yay online walkthroughs with tips), but  didn't, yet still hacked and slashed my way  through.

But the fact that I keep relying on the walkthrough is a bad sign, too. There have been times where I've spent nearly an hour wandering between the same two rooms  or something before resorting to the online guide. Not that I think they're inherently immoral, but I'm usually pretty adamantly against walkthroughs because I feel like I should be able to complete a game by, you know, playing the game and  not relying on an outside source (even if it's from the game company itself). Yet for this game, I really felt like I had no choice. And yes, I think this speaks poorly for its overall gameplay. I should be able to get through all the rooms without seeking an outside source for help, but without it, I wouldn't have made it through the first level. 

Also, it's a hack-and-slash game, which in itself is  fun,  and I got some sick pleasure out of the couple  battles where killing peasants actually gives you health and magic back. But this game  is definitely a game for dudes, by dudes. Case in point:

God of War also means  god
in the sack, apparently

At the very beginning of the second  level, you wake up in bed  with some prostitutes that ask you not to leave, so you jump on the bed and the "camera" focuses on that vase to the right. Then the game prompts you to rotate the directional joystick in various ways, left, right, left, right, each time the ladies making pleasured sounds while the vase shakes. Eventually it has you keep rotating as the ladies make sounds like  they're cumming, and the vase falls off the little side table.

And it powers you up.

And you can do this more than once in a row. Seriously, I stuck around  just to see how many times it'd let me, and I eventually just got fed up with it. 

I just... I mean... Really?

And there's a part where you're swimming around a bunch, and you basically have to rape little water sprites (Poseidon's daughters, that part is made explicit, so they're definitely female- plus the voices, and the boobs). No, sorry, you "embrace" them...by sneaking up on them... and they struggle against you at first, then go limp, as if they've given up the fight. 

So yeah, it's objectifying and rapey, too. YAY!

The story is okay. You're a dude that wanted to be a badass in war, so you ask Ares to help you. He gives you the Blades of Chaos, some awesome sword things on chains, the chain parts embedded into your arms. Some shit happens, you decide to say, "FUCK YOU, Ares!" to get your soul back or whatever, so now you're sort of Athena's puppy dog, running around doing what she wants in order to save Athens from the terrible Ares. Gasp! Just like in regular mythology, the gods use mortals for their whiney sibling rivalry!

So you get stuff from other gods/goddesses along the way. Athena gives you "Rage of the Gods," essentially like the star in Mario Kart- you become invincible  and your hits are worth more damage while it lasts; there's a fancy sword from Artemis; Poseidon gives you badass lightning; Venus gives you the "Gorgon's Stare" which turns baddies into stone (which you then can smash into bits and pieces). My favorite is Hades- he gives you fucking souls that eat the baddies for you, and even the lowest level for them is so fucking awesome and does serious damage (so no wonder one use takes all your magic juice). And the lamest is Zeus, bolts of lightning you're supposed to throw at enemies but I find take too long and aren't strong enough (unless you're going to waste time powering them up, I imagine). Hades and Poseidon's magics are the coolest and most useful in combat, and Artemis's sword is hella awesome. The Rage thing comes in handy, but it takes a long time to build up the power for it.

The design is nice, too. As in the worlds within each level are all richly complex and look pretty. Lots of detail- it may be monotonous to some, but I actually really like the bits where I have to do something like  ascend a spiral staircase. I mean,  that shit takes effort, and it looks really good. So props to them on that. 

So you run around  killing things, and you collect three kinds of energy, red, which powers up your stuff, blue, which fills your  magic meter, and green, which is health points. It actually reminded  me  a LOOOT of Onimusha  Warlords, a series of games in which you're running around killing things and collecting their souls in order to, well, power up, magic up, or heal up. And  hold the phone, which one came first? I'll give you a hint: It's not the main game I'm talking about, here. Hmmmmm.....

(Sidenote: I should repurchase those. I loved those games.)

My pseudo-classicist in me is angry because they're getting a lot of the monsters wrong- like  having a million minotaurs and cyclopses, as opposed to one of each, for example; yeah, I know there was more than one gorgon, but  not that many. And there was only one Cerberus, not ten thousand. And he didn't go from puppy-sized to full-sized, either. Nor did he rotate and knock  shit over like Sonic the  fucking Hedgehog and spit fire.

So anyway, these gorram rotating spikes.

What. The. Fucking. Fuck.

I mean, seriously, what makes them so hard to get around is the fact that you use the joystick for movement, and it's really easy for the controller to think you're pressing it differently than you are- it keeps making me jump sideways when I'm trying to jump upward, or the other way around, or it'll make  me jump diagonally. And I'm just mad as Hell. There was another part earlier in the level that had me trapped for a long time- the spikes were instead on logs you had to walk across, and you had fucking harpies chasing you as you were going, too. I know I skipped some chests filled with souls to power up in order to get through that part, but I got so tired of those fucking logs, I didn't even care. I didn't want to die because I was being greedy. Here, it's not like that at all. I just can't get high enough to escape these gorram spikes.

Ugh.

So yeah. Not a very happy review, and yeah, it's written out of anger. Still, prolly only a 6/10. Between the rapey  stuff, and the fucking difficulty  to just get through a room sans combat  for fuck's sake, even the lovely graphics and world design can't save this game from ire.