Just Another Nice Guy?

We’ve all heard of the dreaded Nice Guy™ right? For a lot of us, we’ve crossed paths with him. We know him. He’s a friend. He’s the one claiming he’s different from all the other guys. He promises he’d treat you better than the jerk you’ve spent the past hour and a half crying and complaining about. He believes that he’s the nicest guy on Earth, and that in return his niceness should be rewarded with romantic affection.

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This Nice Guy™ exists both in reality and in fiction. Turn on a TV show or a movie and there’s at least one character who falls into this archetype.

Two weeks ago popular Chinese and Taiwanese American filmmakers, Wong Fu Productions, released their “Just Another Nice Guy” series on Youtube. This three part series is a sequel to an older short film of a similar name“Just A Nice Guy” which was originally released in 2007.

In the 2007 version, the film’s protagonist Nick is the “Nice Guy” who develops unrequited feelings for his friend Amy. While Nick doesn’t come off nearly as entitled and bitter as other portrayals of Nice Guys™ in pop culture, he does exhibit typical characteristics and traits. Nick is awkward, unconventionally attractive and isn’t familiarized with dating and women.

Throughout the film, he’s exasperated over being disregarded as a potential romantic partner and doesn’t understand why women wouldn’t be attracted to “Nice Guys”. After confiding in a friend, who tells him that women only like cocky, confident, and assertive Jerks. Nick attempts to impress Amy by emulating a version of what he thinks is “The Jerk”, eventually he realizes it doesn’t work and gives up. The short film ends with Nick finding the courage to confess to Amy and spoiler alert: he finally gets the girl.

Phil Wang (co-founder) confirmed that “Just A Nice Guy” was an ode to all the “nice guys” in the world, and his intentions in writing the story was to give them hope. This is a good example of pop culture perpetuating and reinforcing this trope. Validating men who live by the Nice Guy™ code does more harm than good.

It also brings us to our next Nice Guy™ from the Wong Fu series, Derek. After watching the “Just A Nice Guy” film and learning what a Nice Guy™ is, he decides he never wants to be subjected to the “Friend Zone”. So, when Derek falls in love with his friend Audrey, he does everything in his power to avoid “falling into the standard Nice Guy™ traps”. His strategies include not talking about other girls in front of Audrey, purposely distancing himself from her, and doing anything that wouldn’t place him in the“Friend Ladder” also known as the “Friend Zone”. Confident that these strategies were working, Derek confesses to Audrey spoiler alert: only to discover that his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

It’s at this point in the short, where I feel that the situation starts to become more reflective of a realistic scenario. For anyone who has been in Audrey’s shoes (I know I have), we understand that when rejecting the Nice Guy™ it only gets uglier and messier from here on out. Derek, unlike Nick, didn’t get the girl and so he lashes out to get back at her. He completely cuts Audrey off from his social media, he avoids any interaction with her in real life, and he goes around telling their friends that she was “leading him on” behind her back. All of these attempts were made to paint Audrey as “The Bitch”, but also to guilt trip her into reconsidering her feelings.

“Just Another Nice Guy” challenged the Nice Guy™ trope in ways that “Just A Nice Guy” didn’t. For instance, I appreciated Audrey calling out Derek on his entitlement to a relationship with her. In the first installment, the narrative of the story was different so we didn’t get to see that same conviction coming from Amy.

Listen my friends. Regardless of genuine intent, no one should be rewarded with romantic attention just because they were performing basic kindness and human decency.

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But while I liked that about Audrey’s character, there wasn’t a deeper evaluation as to where this male entitlement of the Nice Guy™ comes from. It never explicitly connects the idea that cis-het male entitlement, masculinity, misogyny and sexism in our culture helps breed and keeps this trope alive. It also doesn’t address how violent and dangerous Nice Guys™ are and can be, and how that type of behavior often leads to violence against women. There are underlying messages that need to be addressed and discussed, and telling a Nice Guy™  to accept the rejection and move on from it, isn’t the best or only solution to the problem.

 

 

me

 

Pliab (Plee-ah) Vang is Hmong American. A feminist. An undergraduate senior at St. Cloud State University, majoring in Psychology with a minor in Women’s Studies. She enjoys talking race, gender, class, social issues and pop-culture and is passionate about Asian American and Pacific Islander issues. Pliab is a Master of Procrastination. She spends an unhealthy amount of her time binging (but never actually finishing) TV shows, scrolling through Twitter, and hanging out with friends.

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The Things We Carry

They rarely think about us.

Balancing books braced over our backs, but what they lack in understanding is that these treasure troves of theory and thought sometimes feel like anvils. At last, Atlas shares his burden.

We carry the world on our shoulders. Holding up the lands of our mothers that have been stripped bare, and we are painfully too aware of our country built on those ruins. I’d say we were the chosen ones. That this was a destiny the gods bestowed and now we owed the heavens for this opportunity to be heroes. I mean, I have always wanted to fly.

But our radioactive spiders and Gamma rays took the form of days spent wishing that it all bounced off our steel chests, but instead we were made to feel. And somehow we are faulted for emotion, the ocean that rises when each of us sympathizes with someone else.

We take up the mantle anyway. Refusing capes and unwilling to fake who we really are.

We learned early that the world does not provide balm for the scars that it leaves. We protect culture and carry it in our speech and dress, the double takes and long glances fueling confident gaits and high-held heads.

We are champions of the voiceless, in armor of ethically sourced, sweat-free steel. We fight with swords, spears, standards, smear-proof lipstick in one hand and a cup of Caribou in the other. We are gritty and soft and beauty and brawn and sometimes we’re just straight up tired.

Sometimes it can feel like too much. The struggle to keep up with the rush can be such a drain. We have it ingrained in us to continue the race because the finish line moves further away each day. It’d be easier to sit down and accept, but we hold each other, embolden each other, leading the charge on the days when one of us simply can’t. We return the favor and with this love and fervor, our hearts beat all who oppose and oppress. And that is the best reward.

 

 

thumbnail_147Mariam Bagadion is a second year student at SCSU double majoring in Women’s Studies and English. She has a passion for writing and social justice and thinks the coolest thing in the world is when the two can be combined. In her free time, she writes fiction, watches Netflix, and plays one of the three songs she knows on the ukulele. 

The Concert of Fiction and Feminism

I always wanted to make a career out of writing but never journalism. Writing things in a way that I had to completely detach myself was never appealing. It never made sense. I see writing as something intrinsically personal, to the person writing and to the person reading. Something that always seemed exempt from that level of importance is fiction.

The stories that have any semblance of meaning are those that are rooted in experience, rooted in the Truth that the author has found for themselves. There’s always a call, especially, for marginalized groups to tell their stories.  The call almost becomes an obligation when your people (be it people of color, of the LGBTQIA+ community, etc.) are all but absent in the sphere of literature. These stories become sources of inspiration, and I never got my hands on a memoir or something that could be comparable to my lived experience until I read The Joy Luck Club my sophomore year of high school. I didn’t feel a strong connection to the stories and even resented them and their depictions of Asian Americans. Of course, my feelings changed with age and understanding. However, from the beginning of my jaunt into literature I found I could always rely on the inspiration in fiction.

Fiction acted as what I call a gateway into the vast world of feminism instead of what some people may seem as escapism from the harsh reality of violence. Harry of JK Rowling’s Harry Potter arguably endured an abusive home life with his aunt and uncle forcing him to cook meals, only giving him the burnt scraps to eat while his cousin relentlessly bullied him. This is the reality that many children face in their daily lives and while reading about how Harry is then whisked away to a magical boarding school may seem like the very definition of escapism, the reader is simultaneously thrust into a world where there is a registry for witches and wizards based on their bloodline and a powerful figure is fighting for the eradication of those who aren’t pureblood. The series is fraught with corrupt politicians, an underground resistance movement, and culminates in a battle for freedom from this oppressive power. These young students take it upon themselves to lead the charge against what they know to be wrong, an example diffused to many children who are now old enough to lead the charge against the oppressive regimes seen in today’s society.

In children’s’ and YA fantasy novels, there is also always a clear celebration of the different. The different, in the world of reality, is a distinction that leads to ridicule and danger. Rick Riordan noticed this in his son who was constantly bullied for his ADHD and Dyslexia. Riordan started to tell his son stories of how this difference was a strength. His famous Percy Jackson and the Olympians series shows those very attributes as the marks of demigods. Heroes. Riordan doesn’t stop there. He has written openly gay, black, latina, Asian, Muslim and, lately, a transgender character. These representations have opened conversations on diversity in YA literature.

Living with ADHD, Dyslexia, and abuse in the home are realities that feed into the lived Truth that is so important to feminist work and feminist writing. The setting of these truths, in a magical boarding school or Greek monster infested Manhattan, do not diminish the effect that they have in empowerment and beginning conversations of the celebration and power of difference. In fact, it puts these discussions in language that act as good introductions to feminist thought and language that may be missing from common discourse.

The validity of fiction as a source of inspiration and feminist thought is on the same level as that of stories that are truer to reality. In childhood and adolescence, they teach moral nuances and often start to help develop an understanding of the surrounding world; its injustices, its diversity, how they interact and how they influence each other. It is fantastical case study with the potential to reach past the pages. The concert of fiction and feminism is the concert of theory and practice.

 

 

thumbnail_147Mariam Bagadion is a second year student at SCSU double majoring in Women’s Studies and English. She has a passion for writing and social justice and thinks the coolest thing in the world is when the two can be combined. In her free time, she writes fiction, watches Netflix, and plays one of the three songs she knows on the ukulele. 

Free to be Me: Growing Up Multiracial in America

“What are you exactly?”

Ahh. The all too familiar question I receive either from complete strangers or from friends who finally feel like they’ve known me long enough to ask. To answer that exact question, I’m just like everyone else. I’m human! But I’ve learned that when someone asks me this, I should assume they are asking about my ethnic background. And even though most don’t mean anything offensive by that poor choice of wording, it still makes me feel like I’m the other or that they’re trying to fit me in one box. To answer the intended question, my mom is part Mexican and part Spaniard while my dad is Khmer (Cambodian) and Chinese.

As if growing up wasn’t confusing enough, I was also constantly battling how I identified myself. There would be phases of my childhood when I was ashamed to be Hispanic and fully embraced my Asian side. Then there were times when I despised the Asian side of me and claimed only the Hispanic part. It’s alright feeling like you identify as one more than the other(s), but that wasn’t my problem. My problem was that I was always hating part of who I knew I already was.  As someone who moved to a small town in Minnesota with a predominantly white population from a diverse area of Houston, Texas, I faced different challenges depending on where I was.

When growing up in Houston, it was always the struggle of being enough of my ethnicities. I was either not a real Mexican because I wasn’t a full one or because I didn’t speak Spanish. I would go home and watch a lot of Mexican novelas on Univision just so I could fit in and prove I was Mexican to my classmates. And sometimes I was told I wasn’t Asian enough because I didn’t speak Khmer or get the top grade in math. No matter where I was or who I was with, I was an outsider.

When I moved with my mother and older sister to rural Minnesota, it was a different situation. This time instead of trying to be enough Hispanic or enough Asian, I was spending all my energy to abandon both identities and be white. In my mind, to be white in small town, Minnesota was to be accepted. It seemed to be working because I was getting invited to sleepovers, parties, and people were even coming to mybirthday parties. But it was still there. The racial remarks were still there. Although not directed at me, they could sometimes tell that it made me uncomfortable. They would then turn to me and say “Oh, but you’re not a fullAsian (or Hispanic), so it doesn’t apply to you!”

So I resorted to smiling and laughing along with them. I chose not to make a scene out of fear of rejection and I just took it. I felt the intense need to fit in. And it wasn’t long until being multiracial was used against me. When I got the top score in the grade for the state writing test, I was told that an Asian must have graded my paper. I was laughed at when I brought homemade salsa and fresh tamales to a potluck because my “Hispanic side was coming out.” No matter how hard I tried to be white, I was always reminded that I wasn’t. I was different. In a small school with the majority being white, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Soon enough, I started getting tired of hiding who I was. I realized that I was only fooling myself and I wanted to be comfortable in my own skin. I started taking pride in standing out. I am different and that is a good thing. Sure, I won’t always have the most pleasant experience when my race is brought up in conversations, but that’s not my problem. Other times people are just genuinely curious and want to learn more about something they’ve never known about before. Instead of trying to cover who I am or putting too much effort in being something instead of the other, I’ve learned to embrace who I am and share it with other people – regardless of how they choose to take it.

As I was discovering my inner feminist during junior year of high school, I was also finding joy in myself and the importance of intersectionality in feminism. The moment I chose to embrace every aspect of myself, I felt free. I’m not some quiet, submissive Asian you heard about on TV or lazy Hispanic. I’m not a pile of stereotypes. I’m unique.  I no longer felt the need to hide the fact that I am Asian or Hispanic. I finally felt free to watch anime without being ashamed, eat tamales every Christmas, talk Spanglish at random times, grab the chopsticks instead of a fork, listen to Marco Antonio Solis or RBD, get good grades, talk obnoxiously loud, not be ashamed whenever my mom is talking in Spanish in public (or dad talking in Khmer), and let my dark, thick, curly hair flow freely. I’m grateful because I am free to be me. I was always free to be me.

Photo: http://aas340olspring2013.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-identity-crisis-of-multiracial.html 

Mardon Ellen SoMardon Ellen So is a third year undergraduate student. She is majoring in Sociology and is on a Pre-Physical Therapy track. Mardon enjoys talking about social justice, intersectional feminism, health, running, and life itself. When she’s not studying or working Mardon can be found running, listening to music, singing confidently bad in the shower, reading articles and books, volunteering, or eating. She’s essentially a human being just being. 

But It Doesn’t Add Up

As I am sitting in my Social Work classes taking notes on what it means to be an advocate for social justice, I have to stifle an ironic laugh.

Here I am taking notes on how to advocate for social justice when I should be out there actually fighting for it.

Every day, I wake up and see another executive order passed and it makes it that much harder to drag myself out of bed for classes.

The world needs us, but we’re here taking notes on how we can create change.

What it means to advocate for social justice cannot be understood in the classroom.

Notes are not real life and the classroom is not how the real world works either.

So when you ask me to write about what social justice looks like in my notebook, I am dreaming of throwing this notebook out the fucking window.

Social justice doesn’t have anything to do with sitting in a classroom talking about what social justice could be.

Social justice is getting out into your community and working to create change there. It is starting person to person to eventually create a cultural shift.

Social justice is showing up when the fights are not just about you or showing up for people who don’t want you to.

Fighting for social justice looks like a thousand things, but it will never start while we’re trapped in classrooms.  Here we are stuck in classrooms talking about what we could be doing without doing anything at all.

So how does this add up?

How do we navigate our responsibilities as students, employees, etc. while still showing up and advocating for social justice?

Are there even enough hours in the damn day?

And am I the only one who is starting to feel burned out on both ends?

I wish that there were some answers I could find within a book or a sign from somewhere to guide me to the next step.

But there isn’t.

And time keeps turning and the executive orders keep coming and life isn’t slowing down for any of us.

So where does this leave us?

What can we do?

Although I don’t have all the answers that I’m looking for I do know what the stepping stones are for each and every one of us to begin to do our part to advocate for social justice,

  1. Keep showing up when support is needed. Show up for those who don’t have the privilege to.
  1. Be as present as possible as to what is going on in the world and what causes you can be a part of. If you can support it, do it.
  1. Become involved in your community: volunteer, get to know the people around you, and support those in your community. Creating change is a process and it starts person to person.
  1. Remember not to stretch yourself too thin. The world needs us to keep up the fight, but we cannot give all of ourselves if we are empty.
  1. Stay as informed as you can while staying sane. Know when you need to take a step back from the news for a day, but do not be so privileged as to fully step out of the fight because many cannot.

And lastly,
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. “-Margaret Mead

 

 

 

grace-espinozas-blog-pictureGrace Espinoza is a junior undergraduate student at SCSU, majoring in Social Work. Grace works at the Women’s Center and the American Indian Center on campus. Grace is a straight, Mexican Portuguese/white woman with a passion for social justice, feminism, and poetry. She has been a published poet several times beginning in the seventh grade and is honored to contribute to Collective Feminism. 

Hand in Hand

If she holds his hand

She’s an itch, a bitch

Independent, she can’t

Not without a man

And if she is, she’s considered a lesbian

A goddess for one to gawk

With a head for one to mock

Not of worth

Unless naked

Or adorning a short, short skirt

Can’t she dress the ways she desires

With more than man that she aspires

Too much does her body inspire

The wrong things—what the man wants—the liar

If he holds his hand

Is he still a man?

Has he lost what makes him a brother

If he gives into the arms of another?

A being that must be strong

For anything but strong is wrong

He must not cry, he must not sob

He must not wear the woman’s garb

Beaten for being like her

Being awarded for beating her

Forced to live with tightened bounds

But his cries for help lack resound

Can he not live free from the whip that cracks?

From the voices that praise and despise his sex?

If they hold their hand

They are feared, abandoned

The letter overlooked

In the alphabetic set of oppressed crooks

A confusion to pick apart

A problem—an issue not for the faint of heart

For those who have lived with the chains of bi

That punished anyone that dared to try

Those that believed we could be more

More than what we and they have built at the core

Can they not choose what to feel?

Must we comply to the chains; must we kneel?

If we hold each other’s hands

And forget about if one is darker or lighter than

Perhaps then we will realize

That we are living short, piteous lives

Must we be unsatisfied

If we cannot lower one or hate before we die?

There comes a time when we must perceive

That we are not alone on this land or across the sea

Unified we can be better—together

Not in agreement, but with respect, with understanding, for one another

 

 

 

chuaya-loChuaya Lo transferred to St. Cloud as a third year undergraduate. She greatly appreciates the diversity and emphasis on heading towards the goal of a better world of equal treatment and respect. In her free time, Chuaya enjoys writing fiction, watching anime, TV shows, playing video games, and drawing/writing graphic novels. She’s majoring in linguistics with a TESL minor, with the goal of teaching English in Japan.

How to be Trans

It always comes as a surprise to me when I hear of discrimination within the LGBTQIA+ community. I assumed that a group of marginalized and discriminated people would stick together, having experienced social exile and not wanting to again. But then I hear someone say, “They’re too masculine/feminine to be Trans”/”They must be faking it”/”How can they say they’re Trans if they’re not…” and I’m floored at the close-minded words of a seemingly progressive concept.

What is the correct way to be Trans?

There isn’t one right way to be Trans just like there isn’t one right way to be any other letter in the acronym. Saying that someone can’t be a Trans-man because he performs femininely is like saying that a woman can’t be a lesbian because she isn’t butch and loves makeup or that a man can’t be gay because his voice is too deep.

The way that someone chooses to perform does not validate or invalidate the way they wish to identify.

The LGBTQIA+ community is filled with people who don’t fit into the Cis-normative/heteronormative boxes that society has constructed. Society said that marriage is between a man and a woman, a heteronormative belief. Lesbian and Gay individuals subvert this. Society says that men have penises and XY chromosomes while women have vaginas and two X chromosomes. The existence of transgender and non-binary individuals subvert that. It shows that there isn’t one way to be a certain gender. You can be a man with curves, with fat on your chest, and with a higher pitched voice. You can be a woman with facial hair; you can be neither on the simple basis that it’s comfortable for you. Gender and the way that it is received in society was created to restrict and label in a way that created hierarchies in our society (i.e. women as the weaker sex to keep them in the home). So why is there a correct way to be Trans? Why put someone in a category that the LGBTQIA+ community was created to resist?

If a Trans-woman says she’s a woman, she’s a woman. You have no right to tell her what she is and isn’t, just as she has no right to do the same to you.

The LGBTQIA+ community was created as a place where an individual could be themselves un-apologetically, a place where they’d be embraced for their differences and spectrum of identity. Invalidating an identity because it doesn’t fit what society says it should be is doing nothing more than participating in the oppressive system that created the need for the community in the first place.

 

 

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Mariam Bagadion is a second year student at SCSU double majoring in Women’s Studies and English. She has a passion for writing and social justice and thinks the coolest thing in the world is when the two can be combined. In her free time, she writes fiction, watches Netflix, and plays one of the three songs she knows on the ukulele.

Be Afraid

The power in the room
Reverberates off the walls
A steady shared heartbeat
A collective consciousness
Pulsing behind our skin

It has been ingrained
That silence is synonymous
For woman
But our voices
Could shake the foundation
On which they stand

Tell me,
Does that scare you?
For we should

Taught to be timid
Conditioned to give in
To squeeze into spaces
We are wrongfully put in

But in this room full of women
Who have discovered
They are too big
To fit in these boxes
We’ve been given
 

I can finally breathe again

 

grace-espinozas-blog-pictureGrace Espinoza is a junior undergraduate student at SCSU, majoring in Social Work. Grace works at the Women’s Center and the American Indian Center on campus. Grace is a straight, Mexican Portuguese/white woman with a passion for social justice, feminism, and poetry. She has been a published poet several times beginning in the seventh grade and is honored to contribute to Collective Feminism. 

Black Representations in Film

Crunk Feminist Collective recently published an insightful post on their blog titled, “Moonlight Musings & Motherhood: On Paula, Teresa and the Complicated Role of (Bad) Black Mamas in Film.”

They present an intriguing critique of the new film, Moonlight, and in particular, how the black female and male characters are problematically represented.

Here is an excerpt…

As an autoethnographer, I am invested in the importance and significance of black folk telling our own stories and telling our own truths, and telling them even if and when they may be stereotypical or troubling.  But representation matters.  So, I find myself wrestling with what it means when filmic depictions of black men and women imply that progressive black masculinity, and positive black womanhood, cannot co-exist.  In many ways, these images suggest that in order for fluid black masculinity to be possible, black women and black women’s bodies must be somehow sacrificed.

Continue reading here!

Have you seen the film?  What did you think?  Let us know here on the blog or write us at collectivefeminism@stcloudstate.edu

Image: http://www.crunkfeministcollective.com/2016/10/28/moonlight-musings-motherhood-on-paula-teresa-and-the-complicated-role-of-bad-black-mamas-in-film/moonlight_2016_film/

What Race You are Might Affect Your Water Access

Most people know that there are places in the world where water access and quality are bad.  And I’m sure if you have been watching the news, you have also been reading about the quality of water in places like Flint, Michigan.  While I knew issues with water quality existed, I was astonished to learn that these problems affect the United States in enormous ways.  I also didn’t see the connections between race and water access. I thought issues of race didn’t run so deeply, but I was wrong.

According to The Penguin Atlas of Women in the World, “Over one billion people do not have access to improved water supply sources and more than two billion people do not have access to any type of improved sanitation facility.”  This lack of water and sanitation contain a lot of repercussions for women and men, but as with other things in our patriarchal society, women bear the brunt of these issues.  Bearing children becomes much more dangerous without sanitation.  Girls and women are less likely to participate in school once they reach ages of menstruation, due to the cultural unacceptance and lack of sanitation.  Women and girls are also the “collectors” of water in many countries, and on average a woman walks six kilometers a day in order to get water for their family (Link).  Most of the people that live in these conditions are people of color.  Norleen Heyzer, the director of UNIFEM stated, “Women constitute 70% of the world’s…absolute poor.”  This fact means that not only are the people living in these conditions people of color, they are women of color!

Enter Flint, Michigan.  This predominately African-American city is located northwest of Detroit, and most of the residents in this city live below lines of poverty.  In 2014, the city changed its water system in order to get water from the nearby Flint River, because it saved money.  Since 2014 there have been warnings sent to public officials, who haven’t taken any of the warnings seriously (Link). I certainly can’t give reasons why someone in public office would ignore EPA warnings, but it seems as though Governor Rick Snyder didn’t care about the lives of people that wouldn’t be backing him in upcoming elections, as he gave tax cuts to big businesses by about 1.7 billion dollars, while raising individual taxes, and cutting programs in education!  (Link).  And this is the same man that “respectfully declined” to testify at the hearings for the crisis last spring (Link).

Celebrities have been helping provide water and housing to the thousands of residents that can’t afford to leave the city.  Aretha Franklin, resident of Detroit, donated money to pay for hotel rooms; Eminem, Wiz Khalifa, Sean “Puffy” Combs, and Mark Wahlberg have donated a million bottles of water (Link); and filmmaker Michael Moore created “10 Things They Won’t Tell You About the Flint Water Tragedy” (Link).

It seems that even in the U.S., water security is something that we afford to those people who have money, instead of providing safe and clean water to all of our citizens, even when we can afford it!  Surely something can be done to shine a spotlight on the corruption that is obviously happening within the political climate of Michigan. Corruption that is still happening, because Flint STILL doesn’t have clean water.

I’m sure the residents of Flint would agree!

 

 

melissa-anne-frankMelissa Anne Frank is majoring in both Women’s Studies and English Rhetoric at St Cloud State University.  She plans on continuing her education with a Master’s degree and then a Doctorate.  Melissa is a white, cisgender, pansexual who is proud to be part of the Social Media team at the St. Cloud State Women’s Center.  Melissa also writes a personal blog called Musing with Melly on WordPress. Melissa loves reading, writing, video games, spending time with her partner and two children, and crushing the patriarchy!