Be the Pizza You Want to See in the World

By Alyssa Bluhm 

This article was originally shared as part of Alyssa Bluhm’s TinyLetter “Things I’ve Googled Recently.” Subscribe here for occasional “litspamming.”

Another day, another hundred think-pieces on misogyny, feminism, everything. I probably read too many of them, but I can’t stop; I have fuckup FOMO. And lately I’ve been stuck in a catalog of fuckup HORROR stories.

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#Gamergate: A Feminist Content Analysis on the Depiction of Women in Video Games Part 2

By Russell Barnes

The following article is part of a multi-part series of excerpts from the author’s senior thesis. Start at the beginning here.

Analysis of Tropes – Hegemonic Masculinity in Video Games

The thesis takes a look at three popular tropes that female video game characters are often subject to in the medium: the male gaze, the damsel in distress and the female “clone.” The male gaze is often depicted as a “perception” that things are created for the man. The damsel in distress trope often involves the depiction of a character, usually a female, being rescued by a male in the matter of competition or bribery, while potentially serving as the rescuer’s love interest. The female “clone” trope involves a female character being created from a male template, and/or borrowing traits from a pre-existing male character. A major component to how these tropes work, as well as hegemonic masculinity, is character interaction – particularly with male and female characters.

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Tickling or Torture: What It Teaches Us About Consent

By Alyssa Bluhm

I have a vivid memory of being tickled when I was about five years old. My dad and my uncle tickled me to the floor, sandwiching me between the wall and the dining room table. While my uncle tickled me, my dad pretended to pull Cheerios out of my bellybutton and strawberries out of my strawberry-blonde hair, slurping them up like a delicious bowl of cereal. That was one of my dad’s favorite jokes when I was young, and it’s still a fond memory. Mostly.

I also remember that, as the tickling continued, my laughter turned to tears of pain, that my ribs felt close to cracking with every gasping breath, that I felt cornered and helpless, and that nothing I did would get them to stop.

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