Boobs vs. guns: Miley Cyrus has a point

Miley Cyrus on Marie Claire cover, Sept. 2015

Boobs are great. They boast the rare combination of being both powerful and innocent. They’re sexy yet maternal. They’re as unique as the personalities to which they’re connected. They’re a beautiful factor that both unifies and diversifies women and, quite frankly, they’re something we should be proud of. We should embrace our breasts as we should embrace our entire physical beings. The alternative, of course, is self-hate and insecurity.

And yet…

Many of you will laugh, gape in disgust or shake your heads in disbelief as you read my declarative appreciation of my tits, her tits – our tits. For some strange reason, our culture has become uncomfortable with breasts, choosing to hide and shame rather than glorify them – or talk about them at all.

While I’ve long thought this is an issue, and that the inequality regarding male vs. female toplessness is skewed, it’s Miley Cyrus that really got me thinking this week. (Please don’t let that stop you from reading on.)

In a recent interview for September 2015’s issue of Marie Claire, Cyrus took a jab at Taylor Swift’s VMA-nominated “Bad Blood” video. Specifically, she noted the guns and violence, which create the video’s overall theme of fiery revenge. And while many will write off Cyrus’ comments simply because she’s the one who said them, there is actually great validity in the point being made:

"I don't get the violence revenge thing," said Cyrus, 22. "That's supposed to be a good example? And I'm a bad role model because I'm running around with my [breasts] out? I'm not sure how [breasts] are worse than guns."

If you remember, Cyrus released “Wrecking Ball” in 2013 – the video for which features a naked Cyrus riding a swinging wrecking ball, crying and singing in heartfelt fashion. She was shamed for it. People laughed at it. The video was tagged “weird,” “bizarre” and “inappropriate.”

It’s true that the means in which Cyrus and Swift carry themselves in everyday life (or at least as far as we know) helps to create merit for one and disrespect for the other. I – like many – found Cyrus’s twerking-fest with Robin Thicke (for example) to be both stupid and gag-inducing. I associate her with oftentimes reckless and immature behavior. But that doesn’t mean Cyrus doesn’t have a point here.

Our culture has become numb to the violence – both with and without guns – that appears in our fictional outlets. Guns are everywhere. Many of us didn’t bat an eye at the violence featured in Swift’s recent music video. Not to mention, television characters are violently injured or killed all the time. We’ve become accustomed to it and even flock to watch movies and shows in which we know we’ll see fighting, war or just a regular daily dose of gun violence. There’s not even acknowledgment – let alone mourning – for many characters slain in the scenes that play before us. Consider robberies, battle scenes, invasions. These are all normal at this point.

On the contrary, boobs are censored on most televised channels. Cyrus was criticized immensely for the nudity in her video and, to be honest, I get a little uncomfortable when topless women appear on screen when say, I don’t know, I’m watching TV with my father. But why? Why have we come to regard boobs as inappropriate and worth hiding, while we give little thought to guns and general violence?

Cyrus is right. Our thinking is backwards.

I’m not saying that I encourage women to run around without tops on (not that it would hurt anyone if they did). What I am saying, however, is that a woman without a top should not be the more shameful of the two things – should not be the one dubbed inappropriate. Boobs are natural and innocent. Guns are used for hurting and killing. And we embrace the latter as a piece of our culture? And shamefully hide the former?

Let’s consider the two things translated into real life circumstances: would we rather come across guns in action? Those fights we so readily accept on television, in music videos and in games – would we like to see those in the flesh? Or would we rather have an encounter with a topless woman? Which, I ask, is the more inappropriate? More offensive? Which one is worse?

Let’s forget how we’ve thought about boobs up until this point. Let’s forget that – for whatever reason – people have decided to craft a taboo against a woman’s bare chest. Let’s put our thinking into perspective here and realize that, if we’re going to embrace one of these two things (boobs or guns) that the safe and logical choice is the one we haven’t been making all this time. Let’s admit that Cyrus has a valid point and accept boobs over guns forever more.

Why I Won’t Show My Engagement Ring on Social Media

Another day, another unpopular opinion. This piece originally appeared on Skirt Collective.

Why I Won’t Show My Engagement Ring on Social Media

As I’ve advanced into my twenties, the “I SAID YES!” posts have become ever-present on my social media news feeds. New engagements are born weekly, or so it seems. More often than not, the excited caption is paired with a photo: the couple, wide smiles glowing, or a man on his knee, the woman crying into her hands. And then, of course, there’s the ring.

It’s commonplace for couples to upload photos of the diamond, displaying the jewel on every possible outlet. Facebook. Instagram. Group text messages. The diamond is everywhere.

The news of the engagement, it seems, is not complete without the glowing rock to show for it. And this isn’t for nothing – people notice it. Many people want to see the offering that’s changed everything. I have friends who, upon hearing of someone’s engagement, ask immediately of the ring: “What’s it look like? Is the diamond big? Princess cut?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind – the main point of interest.

When I get engaged, I won’t upload such photos to my social media pages. This decision has nothing to do with embarrassment, fear of judgment or anything else related to other peoples’ reactions. It will have to do with me. It will have to do with my fiancé. It will have to do with our bond.

I know some people will find this stance offensive – they’ll think I’m insulting all women who have and will post pictures of their rings online. Some will think I’m acting upon a lingering jealousy – envy of expensive jewels or engagements in general. I’m not. That’s false. It’s simply a matter of principle: my engagement won’t be about a ring; it will be about love.

The emphasis placed upon engagement rings is, in my opinion, unhealthy and a perfect example of society’s obsession with material things. We’ve taken something as beautiful and romantic as a wedding proposal, and spun it to be entirely about a piece of jewelry: something concrete with an exact, measurable worth.

To me, a lifelong commitment is worth applauding. It’s worth praise and admiration. It may not have a price, but that’s what makes it so beautiful. Throwing an expensive, store-bought item into the equation – and giving it more worth than the relationship itself – is unnecessary. It’s the love that should be showcased, not the rock.

Our obsession with rings also adds a strange, competitive element to the entire engagement process. Not only are people judging the overall quality of one’s ring and all things that go along with someone’s “ring budget,” but they’re also comparing it to others they’ve seen, or the one they wear on their very own finger. Love should never be a competition, and yet some continue to think that a better ring reflects a better bond, a better situation and a better life in general.

They confuse love and jewelry – two things that are far from being synonymous. A couple with a tin ring could be monumentally happier than a couple in which a 14-carat diamond was exchanged.

We can’t determine a relationship’s quality by something as financially based as a diamond. But when we consistently pair the news of a wedding proposal with a specific type of image – one of a ring – we invite such comparisons.

Posting these pictures tarnishes the entire beauty of a committed promise to love someone else forever. So when I get engaged, I’ll let the outside world know that my partner loves me, wants to be with me forever and has taken a step toward a lifelong commitment. I won’t brag about the band he slipped onto my finger because, as far as our love goes, the appearance, dimensions and glow-factor of my ring will be entirely irrelevant.

Working Long Hours is Killing Us

I just returned from an incredible, eye-opening vacation. My boyfriend and I embarked upon a cross-country camping trip, managing to cover 6,000 miles in just 10 days. We packed our two dogs, our tent and everything else we needed into his Prius and headed west. We took three showers each and wore the same clothes 3+ days in a row as a result. Twas a small, only slightly uncomfortable price to pay in order to afford such a wonderful outing.

We hit The Badlands, Yellowstone National Park, Glacier National Park, The Grand Tetons & Boulder, CO. While the trip was good for many reasons, one of the biggest takeaways was that there is so much more to life than working. There's so much to do and see, and only so much time to soak in all the views and experiences. And yet, we (as a society) chose to prioritize and even worship a hectic, heavy work schedule. Here's my take on that:

VS.

Working Long Hours is Killing Us

 

Our parents emphasized the importance of hard work, telling us nothing good could be achieved without its practice. Our teachers went on to do the same. So did everyone else. “A dream doesn’t become reality through magic;” they said. “It takes sweat, determination and hard work.”

While there is validity in working to make certain goals come to life, work has become an overwhelmingly dominant part of human existence; it’s so dominant, in fact, that it leaves no time for other aspects required to live happily and healthily.

The United States is top amongst the culprit nations, as the average workweek is 46.7 hours (or 49 hours for salaried workers). That means, on a typical day, someone who marches off at 8a.m. (and has a lunch break) won’t leave work until around 6p.m. That’s the entire day. Dinner, more work from home and off to bed – that’s all this schedule leaves time for.

The average vacation time given to United States salaried employees is only about ten days, or two workweeks. With fifty-two weeks in each year, people are essentially working all the time.

In many of these cases, the duties performed have nothing to do with personal dreams. It’s a matter of bringing home a paycheck. Work to pay the bills. Work to afford that house. Work to afford this. Work to afford that. It’s all about acquiring things; it has nothing to do with personal aspirations or achieving happiness.

In fact, only 13 percent of people worldwide enjoyed going to work as of 2013. And yet, we continue to do what we do. We continue to choose fat wallets over daily contentment. Not only that, but we teach our children that a “good job” is one that – regardless of personal satisfaction – provides hefty wages. They will undoubtedly grow up to share the same, skewed mentality.

We’re blind to the true meaning of life. We’re blind to what really matters, what really holds value when all is said and done. We’re choosing to work, work, work and become stressed, stressed, stressed (and praise those who are doing the same) in order to buy that car or that hot tub or that cool, new phone. We are flat out damning our health and wellness in order to afford more material possessions.

Could we put a price on health – mental or physical? These two components, the parts that make up who we are, are negatively impacted as we overwork. They crumble and fall apart. And yet, we seem to believe our health is worth less than the neat, unnecessary gadgets we can hold in our palms.

What’s the price of time spent with loved ones? This aspect of life, the one that elders have long told us to cherish, to prioritize, has fallen by the wayside, replaced with overtime and a few extra bucks at the end of the week.

What’s the price of adequate rest? Humans need to recharge in order to be happy and healthy. And yet…

We go to work and spend our weeks behind our desks – bogged down by unhappiness. We flip the middle finger to the relaxing, the balanced, those who are “taking it easy.” They’re not doing their duty. “Lazy” is what we dub those who choose not to participate in the 50-hour workweek trend. Those who merely cover their financial bases and live simply – they’re the ones going about it wrong. Right?

We need to take a step back and consider the paradox in working long hours. It’s a practice – no, a lifestyle – that shouldn’t be applauded. Don’t we see that, in the end, we leave no time for the stuff we work so hard to afford? We end up too tired to appreciate our lovely home, our contemporary top-of-the-line furniture, our humongous television. More importantly, we leave no time for loved ones.

But we have a choice.

We can opt for cheaper models, fewer toys, fewer belongings overall. We needn’t replace our cars, our wardrobes, our furnishings simply because we tire of the old. We may want to, but we don’t need to. We’re fueled by the desire to have the best, nicest things. By the time we’ve worked enough to afford it all, we’re burnt out.

We can do away with daily misery and work less; we can seek lower paying jobs that we actually find enjoyable. We could fill our time with good company, with sufficient rest, with necessary recharging of body and mind.

If we would only alter our work patterns, or deeper yet, if we would stop our worship of material possessions (realizing they should not take priority over love, rest and health), we’d be healthier and happier. Contrary to what people seem to believe, working a million hours for a million dollars but leaving no time to spend it and cutting out anyone we might spend it with– that’s not happy or healthy.

This post originally appeared on Thought Catalog.

The Charleston church shooting: Killers should not receive celeb status

I arrived back in Pennsylvania just this morning, having spent the past ten days traveling across the country with my boyfriend and two dogs. Because I didn't have my computer or a network connection, I am posting this now -- this is my first piece to be published on the recently-launched Liberty Project. I was excited to work with the outlet and, of course, excited to see this article published. 

This piece discusses our country's tendency to become infatuated with criminals (particularly in grand-scheme killings), rather than focus on the lives lost or the victims' loved ones left behind. I think this is wrong, and a "habit" we should aim to overcome. I've felt strongly about this subject for some time (Dzhokhar Tsarnaev aka Boston bomber on Rolling Stone cover?? What?!) and with my older sister living in Charleston, SC, the words just kind of ~flowed~ out. This piece originally appeared on The Liberty Project.

Memorial outside the Charleston church, where nine people were killed -- Amy Deck, 6/19/2015

The massacre in Charleston, South Carolina, left Americans in shock and awe. It also left us — like so many times before — curious about a killer.

When we hear about such crimes, it has become routine to immediately wonder about the perpetrator. We have become more interested, it seems, in learning about the culprit’s history and mindset than learning about those who were killed mercilessly by his weapon.

As soon as I heard about the church shooting, I knew about Dylann Roof. I saw his face staring back at me from the television as I learned that he killed nine people. His act was foul, but the coverage he received was like that of a celebrity. The anchors reported every available detail. Roof became the man of the hour. He now has a Wikipedia page.

We have become accustomed to this attention; we have even come to expect it. We saw the same happen with the Virginia Tech murderer, the Boston Marathon bombers, the Sandy Hook shooter and all those before and in between. The Boston bomber, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, was featured on the cover of Rolling Stone — a breach in ethics, in my opinon.

While we all know Dylann Roof’s name, I wonder how many of us are as familiar with the names of his nine victims. It is their names we should be prioritizing. It is their legacies we should be left reading about. We are so familiar with Roof’s face we could probably pick him out in a crowd. Can we say the same about those he killed? Can we picture them and see humans who once smiled, laughed and loved?

In the wake of crimes such as these, the spotlight should be upon the unity, love and mourning that ensues. A Charleston bride — who was married the Saturday after the killings — walked over to lay her bouquet on the church’s steps. The street outside was filled with people bearing flowers, crosses and feelings of hope. Why don’t we highlight these raw, awe-inspiring reactions to tragedy?

We also shouldn’t forget about the families and friends, who are left to mourn. It is essential to offer support to the grieving survivors. If we don’t, who will?

The Charleston victims — as all victims of situations when hate pulled the trigger — were normal people who simply ended up in the wrong places at the wrong times. Any one of us could fall victim to such crimes. Would we want our killers to be honored with international discussion, let alone widespread fame?

What a Beautiful Wedding Looks Like

This blog will be used as an outlet for my writing - soooo what better place to start than a piece published just today?! Thanks, Liz Furl for putting this up on Real Talk Magazine!

BRAUNphotography

What a Beautiful Wedding Looks Like

My friends’ interests in weddings have perpetuated conversations for years. Questions like, “Who will your bridesmaids be?” first surfaced (if I were to guess) as far back as elementary school. They’d describe their dresses, the cake, the bridal parties. Their dreams focused upon themselves – excepting the costly adornments that would undoubtedly make the day more glamorous.

As we’re getting older, such dialogue is (I suppose) more relevant, and thus monumentally more prevalent. The visions are no longer so distant – no longer are they fairytales sitting worlds away, but real events that people are living, breathing and planning.

While I’d normally chew my nails as my friends talked about their lacy sweetheart tops – never having much to say – I’m opening up here and now. I’m going to  unveil my wedding fantasy. It goes something like this:

My dress will be sleeveless, allowing my arms to be kissed by the summer sun. It will reach my knees in loose, sundress fashion, easily blown about by the seasonal breeze. I’ll wear a flower crown in place of a veil. My lips will be red.

My cake will be tall – like ten layers high. I’ve always preferred chocolate to vanilla, but I’m thinking vanilla is the safer choice. Spillage won’t soil my dress as notably and my teeth won’t look as if I’ve just blazed through a pack of Oreos. I see a vanilla masterpiece with whipped cream icing and cute flowers adorning the sides. Can you just picture it?

And the venue – oh, the venue! It’s going to be perfect – a rustic setting with strings of white lights, and mason jars on the tabletops. I can picture the father-daughter dance, an acoustic band strumming instruments in the corner.

Now that I think about it, I’ve also considered full-length dress coverage – of sleeves and skirt – thus shielding my flesh from winter cold. I can see myself wearing something puffy and white (actually, no I can’t) or tight and black. It will be paired with high heels or flip-flops or maybe bare feet. What I do know for sure about the dress – or pantsuit or duck costume or whatever – of my dreams? It will be the last thing I wear as a single woman, and the first thing I’ll kick off in front of my husband.

And for the dessert: maybe there won’t be a cake at all. Maybe I’ll serve pumpkin pie or apple crumble or cupcakes. Would it be wrong if we simply put Snickers and Butterfingers at every seat? Maybe we’ll put our entire budget toward Chipotle catering and skip dessert altogether. All I really care about is that I’m eating beside a man who appreciates my love for food.

And a destination wedding could be cool: gliding down a sandy aisle, a dream lined with palms. Or Vegas? Or the local justice of the peace? All things considered, the venue details are far from being worked out. Just so long as I’m walking toward a man with a true promise to love me forever, even when I ugly cry.

In truth, I’ve given very little thought to the day on which I’ll make a man my husband. I hope I’m happy and there’s a flowing supply of booze, but other than that, I have few specific expectations. What matters more to me, what’s more important than the decorations, the food and the attire – is that I have a loving partner standing beside me as I experience it all.


This post originally appeared on Real Talk Magazine.