Asperger's and empathy: feeling other people's sadness... or joy

Asperger's syndrome and autism are funny things. People often wrongly assume that we have no empathy, but this is a misunderstanding of our condition.

As I have stressed before, people with autism have social communication problems. This means we fail to read cues in people's facial expression, body language or tone of voice, that would indicate how they are feeling. Because of this, we can fail to respond appropriately to other people's emotions, or appear that we don't care. The reality isn't that we don't care, it's that we don't know.

It has been suggested that just as autistic people have difficulty dealing with sensory overload, they may struggle with emotions, too. Strong lights, sounds, touch, smells or tastes can be completely overwhelming for us. In the same way, we would feel other people's emotions too intensely.

I have autism, but I also have huge levels of empathy. I can struggle to read non-verbal language (although I am getting better at it), but if people verbalize their emotions, I feel deeply for them. When I realise someone is suffering, I feel an intense pang of sadness and anguish deep in my heart, together with the burning desire to make it better, to soothe and comfort the other person..

In my work, I am confronted to heartbreaking stories. And trust me, my heart breaks for them every time refugees tell me what happened to them.

But last night, empathy worked in another, unexpected way: I felt deep, glowing happiness on behalf of another person. One of my closest friends is going through a very happy experience - and I felt as though my heart and my very skin would burst with happiness. 

It felt like dancing in a warm summer rain; like the way music sometimes fills me up inside and makes me want to run; like electric energy running through my body. And for the first time in a long while I started stimming, because I needed an outlet for the strong emotions I was going through. I started bouncing up and down, then flapping my hands very fast, all the while feeling my body was not enough to countain all the joy I was feeling for someone else.

Islam - no way out?

Sometimes I hear a sentence that just startles me and makes me want to scream in frustration. Maybe that makes me a "snowflake", but there are things that I cannot let pass.

Recently, a Christian friend and I were discussing Islam and I explained someone I know was contemplating converting to Islam. I saw it as a positive, because the lady in question came from an atheist background and embarked on a spiritual search. My friend, however, did not see it quite in the same way.

"I wonder if she realises that once converted to Islam, she has no way out - all schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy".

My initial reaction was to want to bang my head against the wall. There are so many things that are wrong with this statement I don't even know where to start...

First and foremost, we live in Belgium, where religious freedoms are protected by law: people may not only choose their religion, but change it if they wish. This means if my friend became a Muslim, she could change her mind afterwards. Moreover, if her Muslim friends are open-minded, they will respect her choice either way. I personally know a young girl who converted to Christiniaty from a Muslim background, and her family respected and supported her choice.

I love and respect the Muslims I've come to know. I feel blessed to count them as friends, and I get sad and angry when people tar them all with the same brush. When they ask me about my faith I always tell them I am a Christian. I have never felt any hostility from them, quite the opposite. They are some of the most respectful and hospitable people I have ever met. In addition, I have great respect for their piety. Who among us Christians prays 5 times a day, or fasts for 40 days, or learns significant portions of Scripture by heart? Their devotion is an inspiration. Of course, this doesn't mean I want to become a Muslim myself - I have explained before how and why I chose to follow Jesus.

"All schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy" is a blanket statement that fails to consider the diversity that exists within Islam. True, some fringes of Islam want to impose sharia law throughout the world, which includes severe punishment for apostasy. But the key words here are "some fringes". Not all Muslims are Wahhabi - the fundamentalist, often violent branch of Islam who want to "spread purified Islam through the world, both Muslim and non-Muslim", only making up 0.5% of the global Muslim population (source: Wikipedia). There is a lot of diversity in Muslim doctrine (just like there are many branches of Christianity), from the most fundamentalist to the most progressive, and from decidedly violent to completely non-violent.

Finally, I think such talk about Islam goes against the teachings of Jesus. Equating the whole of Islam with violent fundamentalism is a narrative that, sadly, I have heard in some churches. In fact, I used to believe it… It presents Islam as a frightful threat, and Muslims as would-be invaders who want to take over the world, by violent means if necessary. As I’ve outline above, not only is it untrue, but it also has a perverse effect. It instils fears and therefore hostility within the hearts of Christians. How can we be effective witnesses of Christ if we feel fear and hostility towards a whole group of people? How can we love them as ourselves if we see them as dangerous enemies? Some Christians’ fear of Muslims is already turning to hatred, and politicians are using it to their advantage. Instead of welcoming the stranger as the Bible commands, many self-professing Christians openly reject them and even claim the need to protect ‘Christendom’ from the ‘Muslim invasion’, by force if necessary… while Christ teaches us that His Kingdom is not of this world anyway.

When confronted to a teaching in church, I try to look at the fruit that teaching produces. Does it bring love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness? Or does it instil fear, hatred, selfishness, conflict and discord? Ask yourself this.

 

If I am not part of the solution, I am part of the problem.

When Trump first announced he was running as a candidate for the Republican party, I dismissed it as a joke. Then, as months passed, mockery gave way to disbelief, then to anger, frustration and indignation. How could such racism, bigotry, and misoginy appeal to so many people? How could someone whose speeches had no substance and no content convince voters? 

I cried and shouted and poured contempt on Trump supporters, and on all those who supported fascist politicians. I despised them for their perceived stupidity and bigotry and for their hatred. I felt proud that I was "not like them" (Parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, anyone?).

Tonight, I read this article, and it dawned on me that like any other story, it's not all simple; it's not all black and white. It's not just stubborn Fundies. It's also people who have been left behind by an elitist system, and felt more support was given to minorities than to them. And they have been deceived into believing Trump will fix that. (Or that a fascist European politician will fix that.)

And suddenly it dawned on me. I cannot humilate them into changing their minds. I cannot bully them into behaving like decent human beings. I cannot even try to "educate" them because by doing this, I am only arrogantly putting myself above them. Humiliating and despising them will only reinforce the problem. 

The only helpful, Jesus-like thing I can do is the same thing I have been doing for Muslims in my centre for asylum seekers, despite my initial fears and misgivings about Muslims: love them. Reach out to them. Listen to them. Seek to understand them. Show them empathy.

So this is where I want to start. Holy Spirit, enable me, because I cannot do this on my own.

I want to follow Jesus, and I foolishly believe love will save the world. You may tell me I am a fucking fool. You're most probably right.

Why I am not a Muslim, and why I love Muslims regardless

There is a lot of negative talk about Muslims, and many people are hostile to Islam because of terrorism. I have written about this issue time and again. Indeed, I feel upset, sad and angry when people demonize all Muslims because of Daesh. The vast majority of Muslims are peaceful people who are appalled by terrorism and Daesh just as we are, and the majority of Daesh victims are actually Muslims. I also deplore the fact that whenever someone commits a crime and is of Muslim background, the media is quick to highlight it, whereas they seldom mention origin when someone from a "White, Christian" background is the culprit.

I have no personal issue with Muslims. I have Muslim colleagues and I work within a predominantly Muslim environment (a majority of the asylum seekers currently staying in our Red Cross centre identify as Muslims). I love working with them.

Lately, I had a conversation around faith with a Muslim friend. When I said I was a believer, he said to me, "If you were a true believer, wouldn't you accept the Word of the Prophet Mohammed, as he was foretold in the Bible?" 

This is interesting, because looking into Islam, ironically, played a part in my choosing the Christian faith:

"I met a Muslim. We discussed God and religion, and I read some booklets about Islam. As a result, some of my beliefs were challenged. Indeed, I had always thought that all religions all led to God. However, in Islam you had to obey lots of rules and do good deeds, and then maybe, if you were found good enough, God would accept you. On the other hand, I was being told in Church that as a sinner, there was nothing I could do to make myself acceptable to a perfect, absolutely good God, and that all I could do was accept what Jesus had done for me and commit my life to Him. That wasn’t the same thing at all – one belief system told me I had to work hard to deserve God’s acceptance, and the other told me there was nothing I could do and nothing I needed to do, because God had already done it all for me… all I had to do was receive His gift.

I was extremely confused. I could see both beliefs couldn’t be true at the same time, because in all logic they were self-excluding. But I had no idea which one was right. Both seemed to make sense. I knew I had to choose one or the other, and I did want to please God and do what He required, but I simply didn’t know which way was the right one.

I was more attracted to Islam because it fitted my views about God and religion: God wanted us to obey a certain set of rules and be good, and when we'd die He would weigh our good and bad deeds on a pair of scales and see which way it tipped. But I could not dismiss Christianity, because it could make sense too."

I am not going to get into why I don't believe the Bible foretold Mohammed; many Christian theologians have done it much better than I could. I am just going to explain why, personally, I cannot embrace the Muslim faith: because of Jesus. 

Muslim doctrine denies core elements of my faith. It denies the divinity of Jesus, while believing he really was God incarnate is crucial to my faith: God to me is not abstract and aloof, he is close to us. He got his hands dirty. He shared in the messiness of humanity. He knows our struggles because he's lived through them. I would go as far as to say that God LEARNT from the incarnation: instead of an "academic" knowledge of the human experience, he knows because he experienced it personally, which makes him able to fully empathize with us. As far as I know, this is absent from Islam. Second, Muslim doctrine denies Jesus's death. To them Jesus never died: God subsituted him for someone else and gave that other someone the appearance of Jesus. First, why the trickery? Why would God deceive us? Second, Jesus' death and resurrection is crucial to my faith. They bring me redemption and hope. Whatever your theory of atonement is, Jesus had to die, if only to fully identify with us in our humanity. His death reconciled us with God - he took our sins upon himself so we could be free of that burden, freed to do good instead. And if he didn't die, neither did he rise - and then where is the hope of our own resurrection? Jesus's incarnation, life, death and resurrection bring me a hope and peace that I have not found in Islam (I have read Muslim booklets explaining the faith, booklets designed to win over converts, as well as several passages from translations of the Holy Quran). This is why I am not a Muslim.

This being said, I have no personal problems with Muslim people. They are my human brothers and sisters, created by God and loved by God. He knows their hearts and I do not, so I cannot presume to know whether they are "saved" or not (whatever that means). I can only follow Jesus' command to love them. I work among Muslims every day at the center for asylum seekers. They are humans. They can be kind, loving, funny, rude, angry, hospitable, touching, humble, proud, they can be peaceful and they can be violent. They are human brothers and sisters, not better than us and not worse, either.

Finally, I think as Christians, we can learn from the devotion to God we see in Islam. Who among us prays 5 times a day? I know I don't. Who fasts from sunrise till sunset for 40 days? I know I don't. Who learns verses of the Holy Scripture by heart in order to be closer to God? I know I don't. So I have a lot of respect for my Muslim brothers and sisters.

The Bible, homosexuality, and abomination

Last summer, I described how my beliefs about homosexuality had changed over time.

In Biblical times, the main purpose of couples was to produce offspring to ensure the continuity of the family line and the perennity of the group. If any people felt love and attraction towards the same sex, they probably weren't encouraged to form a lasting bond, as it would have been of little social use. Much more visible, however, would have been the sexual abuse of young boys - and therefore, it would have been vigorously condemned by anyone with a strong sense of morality. So, if Bible authors were familiar with abusive homosexual behaviour, but not with committed, faithful same-sex relationships, they would have called it wrong and immoral. This notion has been brought forward before by scholars and Christian LGBT advocates, and they've argued the case much more convincingly than I can. But recently, something unexpected came to support this theory for me.

I never thought that working in a centre for asylum seekers would help me better grasp the issue of homosexuality, and why it seems, on the surface, to be so adamantly condemned in Scripture. Yet, meeting people from different cultures throws a very interesting light on the morality of this issue.

In our center, we have been holding discussion panels about life in Belgium, and mentioning things such as gender equality, freedom of religion, and LGBT rights. The question of gay marriage got a variety of responses. Many people, including those coming from a Muslim background, were very matter-of-fact about it, saying that we all need to respect the life choices of other people. Some people from Africa got their Bibles out and emphatically argued that homosexuality was inherently sinful. 

But what I found particularly interesting was this: many of our residents from Afghanistan or Iraq, when confronted to Western acceptance of homosexuality, state dryly that there is no such thing in their country. Some Afghans even protested, "Pedophilia is illegal where we come from!". Aghast that they would make such a comparison, I dug further. They explained to me that in Afghanistan, there is no such thing as two men loving each other the way a man and his wife do (or at least, they're not aware of it). What they have often witnessed, however, is the abuse of young boys by older men, not only back home, but also during their journey to Europe. Hence the way they recoil from the very mention of homosexuality, and the way they were quick to state that such things were illegal. Of course, we explained to them that pedophilia is illegal (and immoral) in Europe too, and that being attracted to someone of the same sex is totally different from child abuse. But I find their comments and reactions very enlightening. If the only type of homosexual relationship you'd ever witnessed was one of abuse and control, driven by lust and the desire to overpower the other person, rather than committed, loving relationships, you'd find the practice despicable, no doubt. You would be very likely to call it... an abomination. Wouldn't you?

How not to talk about menstruation

I follow a blog called Single Dad Laughing, written by Dan Pierce.

I like Dan Pearce. Some of his blog posts are hilarious, some others inspirational. As most bloggers (including yours truly), I suppose he is a little narcissistic, but I generally enjoy what he writes.

Except this piece. Dan had surgery that caused rectal bleeding, and, in a supposed attempt to sympathise with menstruating women, shares with us how horrific it was. I'm not sure whether he wanted to be funny or inspirational, but it ended up being neither.

I have so many issues with his post. 

Dan constantly describes it as "bleeding from your 'down there'". Funny as this may sound, a rectum and a vagina are not the same thing at all. They don't look the same. They don't feel the same. They don't have the same function. To put them in the same broad category and call it your "down there" is incorrect and, to me at least, rather offensive.

He complains about being constantly and uncomfortably aware of the bleeding - but that bleeding was the result of tissue trauma, so no wonder! Menstruation, on the other hand, is not the result of a wound or of surgery. It's a perfectly normal female bodily function. I am aware there is something called endometriosis, and that some women are plagued with very painful periods. Admittedly, as I don't experience either of these, I'm not representative of all women, but I'm not constantly aware of it when I'm on my period. I get on with my day just fine.

He also complains about the discomfort and irritation. I would argue that, heavy bleeding due to surgery aside, it's also caused by using disposable pads. I use cloth pads (trust me, much more comfortable than those sticky horrid disposables). He wasn't able to do some of the things he usually enjoys. Well, there again, this was due mainly to the fact that his (heavy) bleeding was caused by tissue trauma. When a woman is menstruating, however, she can choose a kind of protection that won't stop her from playing sports, dancing or swimming, such as tampons, or, even better and healthier, menstrual cups. As for staining your clothes, unless periods are extremely heavy (which isn't the case for everyone), wearing the right protection usually prevents that. 

Dan was uncomfortable disposing of soiled pads, and the odours were most unpleasant. Of course, as his bleeding was only temporary, he couldn't invest in washable ones, but for menstruation women, making that switch solves those issues (bad odour doesn't come from the blood per se, but from the mix of blood and the chemicals in the disposables).

To me, the worst part was his statement that "no human should ever have to bleed from their down theres", as if it was something horrendous. What he experienced was undoubtedly most unpleasant, but once again, comparing it to menstruation is inaccurate and unhelpful. We need to de-dramatise periods and fight the stigma against them, not patronisingly dramatise them. 

He is right on one thing, though: menstruation is a topic that deserves discussion - but a positive one.

So no, Dan Pierce, rectal bleeding isn't the same as menstruation. Not even close.

One last word about Charlie

My mother said something to me today that challenged me. After the attack, I put up a "I am Charlie" sign on the back of my car.

She said: If a Muslim sees your "I am Charlie" sign, they may understand it as "I support those who offend Muslims by mocking their prophet".

I had that sign up as a way of saying murdering people over a cartoon (over anything, really) is unacceptable. I did not mean it as a way to provoke anger. Muslims on the whole may decry the acts of terrorists, yet I can perfectly understand that they are feeling offended, indeed provoked. The latest Charlie Hebdo cover looked peaceful to me - Muhammad saying, "all is forgiven" while holding a "I am Charlie" sign seems like extending an olive branch, does it not?

Not if you are a Muslims and you believe it is insulting to draw a caricature of your prophet, a most beloved and revered figure. In that case, it feels like adding fuel to the fire. It does not mean you will take up arms against France, but it will not incite your goodwill.

Moreover, Charb, Charlie Hebdo's murdered editor, reportedly said he wanted "all religions to be kicked out of France"(1). That is not a peaceful or accepting discourse either. It denies other people's freedom of religion, which is ironic from someone who has become an icon of civil liberties. Being brutally murdered by terrorists does not make anyone a saint, even if it is tragic and horrifying.
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So I took down my "I am Charlie" sign.

I wish I could have sign up that says, "I am on the side of anyone who is oppressed in any way, be it because of their opinions, their religion, their nationality, their gender, their sexual orientation or their ethnicity. I am on the side of peace and I am against all forms of violence".

But that would be a bit long for a bumper sticker.

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(1) I read it yesterday in a Belgian magazine, and this article in Belgian newspaper Le Soir alludes to the statement too: http://www.lesoir.be/754485/article/actualite/belgique/2015-01-10/caricaturistes-kroll-vadot-bertrand-ce-qui-s-est-passe-reveille-consciences

What autism isn't (and what it is)

A lot has been done to inform and educate people about autism, but a lot of stereotypes still need to be challenged. As a person with an autistic spectrum condition – I have Asperger’s syndrome – I thought I’d share with you a few things I am not:

1. I am not a “retard”. The word itself is offensive anyway, and you shouldn’t use it to describe anyone. In addition, autism has got nothing to do with IQ. Some people with autism are extremely intelligent; others have developmental delays and very low IQ – and everything in between those two extremes. Autism may impair a person’s ability to function independently, but it does not mean they’re stupid.

2. I am not sick. Autism is not a disease, it’s a neurological condition. That means you cannot “cure” it, much like you can’t “cure” Down syndrome. I can develop strategies to help me function better and reach my full potential. However, if I am successfully doing this, it doesn’t imply I am “cured”. It just means I have learnt to adjust and thrive. 

3. I am not broken. I don’t need to be fixed or mended. My brain functions differently from yours and at times that makes it difficult for us to understand each other or get on, or for me to live independently. However, I am a whole person with a lot to offer. I can be given strategies to adjust to mainstream society. I would be happy if you too made an effort to try and understand my points of view and adjust to the way my brain works. If we both take steps towards each other, we’ll get along much better. 

4. I am not an “idiot savant”. As I highlighted before, autism and IQ are not related. Yes, some people with autism are geniuses in one or several areas – it can be maths, music, drawing or anything else. However, not all of us are geniuses. Don’t assume I’m going to pull some incredible intellectual skill out of my sleeve just because I have autism – trust me, I experience enough difficulties as it is without having to deal with painfully unrealistic expectations. 

5. I am not selfish or unsympathetic. I struggle to understand other people’s point of views. Body language, facial expressions, subtext, and implied or hinted meanings are very mysterious to me. This means I do not always understand or realise what emotions you are going through. However, if you make it plain and simple and tell me, you will find me very sympathetic and eager to help. I do care. I just don’t always have the tools to understand your emotions. Equally, because I lack the ability to imagine what you feel or think, I might not realise how my words or actions will impact you before it’s too late. I might upset you without meaning to. Yet, once I realise this, I will be mortified and very willing to make it right – possibly making things worse with my awkwardness. Please be patient with me.

6. I am not antisocial. Some people have told me, "How can you have Asperger's? You've got friends, you get along with people!"  While it is true that some people with autistic spectrum disorders have little interest in people and friendship, don't assume this is true for all of us. Some of us desperately want to make friends, but really struggle to do so (see point 5). Some of us have acquired enough social skills to make friends and socialize, even though it is often taxing (I avoid socializing in large groups because it exhausts me to interact with so many people and have to deal with so much information processing - my brain cannot cope). And most of all, those of us who have good friends are probably blessed to have met understanding, open-minded people who looked beyond our social akwardness and love us just as we are.

7. We're all on spectrum, aren't we? ... I should think not.

 I have become increasingly annoyed by people saying "We're all on the spectrum" (meaning the autistic spectrum) after describing one of their idiosyncracies.

To all you neurotypicals (i.e., whose brains functions in typical fashion, as opposed to autistic brains) out there:

- Being organised does not make you autistic. It just makes you, well... organised.
- Sorting out your socks by colour does not make you autistic. At best, it makes you slightly OCD.
- Getting annoyed by last-minute changes to a plan doesn't make you autistic. There is a difference between being annoyed by change, and experiencing significant anxiety and distress because of it.
- Being very focused on a particular task at a particular time does not make you autistic. Being unable to focus on anything else does.
- Preferring to be alone doesn't necessarily make you autistic. As I mentioned above, autistic people are not all antisocial.

If you don't experience significant difficulties in the areas of social communication, social interation and social imagination (and theory of mind), as well as sensory difficulties, you are not on the autistic spectrum; and by saying you are, you are belittling the difficulties those of us who really are experience on a daily basis.

Is my job worthwhile?

I have been working in a supermarket for almost two years now.

How did someone with two university degrees (one in languages, one in education), experience in administrative work, education, and support of young people with disabilities end up in a supermarket?

The straightforward answer is that it is better than no job at all. The more detailed answer is that finding clients as a translator is harder than I had imagined; teaching assistant positions are non-existent in Belgium; and working with people with disabilities requires a Belgian qualification that I do not have.

I remember telling an acquaintance about my current supermarket work. His immediate response was, "Not really worthwhile, then, is it?"

That's a tell-tale response. Regardless of whether I like my job or not, does working as a supermarket employee make me a lesser person? It shouldn't, yet, in people's expectations, it somehow does. Even in mine - I am always a bit embarrassed and apologetic about it. Why is this? I shouldn't have to be. People seem to consider that if someone works in a supermarket, they must be uneducated and not very smart. They never stop to consider the skills involved in managing tills, for instance - a task so complex that I've proven unable to handle it - or in managing orders of food on a big scale - another task that my manager does in my stead because he knows I don't have the skills for it. 

Even if this position doesn't fit my training and skills, at the end of the day, it means I work. I don't take advantage of the benefit system. I try and do my job to the best of my abilities, I work hard, and I endeavour to be pleasant and helpful to everyone (and trust me, being pleasant to people can be challenging when you have Asperger's - more often than not you say the wrong thing when trying to be nice and sociable, and people look at you funny). So why should my job not be considered worthwhile?

I try and look at the positive of my job, even though it's not easy.

And while I'm at it... (related to last post)

This is an ad for menstruation products I like. It's hilariously funny!

 

This post is about menstruation. Get over it.

I'm feeling rather annoyed right now. Why? Because I stumbled across this article, and it made me cringe. But not for the reasons you might think.

The article presents all the clichés about menstruation: it makes women bitchy and moody, makes them irrational (or even more irrational than usual, let's maintain those sexist stereotypes, right?), causes them to have weird cravings, stops them from doing what they usually enjoy, it's messy and gross. Some parts made me think I was given advice about some kind of disease - stay away from certain foods, have painkillers ready...

Unfortunately, this kind of view is perpetuated by feminine hygiene adverts. Menstruation is presented as dirty, smelly and messy, to the point of needing "odour absorber technology" in pads, while using a blue liquid that bears not resemblance to blood whatsoever when showing you how absorbant a pad is.

Newsflash: menstruation is not a disease. It's not a curse. It's not something to be ashamed of. It's a healthy natural process a women's body goes through every month. It means she is able to bear children. If anything, it ought to be celebrated - we women are able to give life, isn't that fantastic?

Now I'll admit that I may be biaised. I am fortunate enough that I don't get menstrual cramps - only a light tension in my lower abdomen on the day my period starts. I honestly feel sorry for women who get cramps, I'm pretty sure they're awful (the cramps, not the women). And I don't seem to get PMS either.

And that's another thing that really irks me. I am a human being. I am entitled to having emotions, whether I am on my period or not. If, when someone displays anger, they're asked "jokingly" whether they're on their period, I feel offended. Why exactly would menstruation turn us into irrational, irate monsters?

I am begining to wonder whether some (not all - I do aknowledge the reality of cramps for some women) of those symptoms may not be psychosomatic. If we're being constantly brainwashed into thinking that periods are horrible and make women cranky, of course we're going to feel rubbish about it.

Menstruation is treated as something dirty and shameful. Why is that? It's only blood, for heaven's sake. You have about 10 pints of blood in your veins, and actually, it's pretty darn useful. It delivers nutrients and oxygen to your cells and organs and transports waste back to where it can be disposed of (including carbon dioxide). White blood cells fight infections; platelet cells cover an open wound so you can stop bleeding and start healing. Blood is not just extremely useful, it's vital. So why should we be grossed out or freaked out if we lose a little bit of it each month?

OK, it stains. But it's no harder to cleanse than tomato sauce. Do you feel grossed out when you have to scrub off a tomato sauce stain? I didn't think so!

We need to stop feeling ashamed of natural bodily processes. We need to stop feeling ashamed of our bodies! Our bodies are wonderfully intricate machines that function fantastically well and have an amazing ability to self-repair within certain limits. Our bodies are beautiful - all of our bodies - yes, including vaginas and ovaries.

I don't feel I should apologize for discussing this. We need to get over ourselves and embrace our womanhood - all of it.