Molly Weasley is a feminist

Molly WeasleyMolly Weasley is in fact a feminist. Some people think that she isn’t a feminist because she’s so grounded in domesticity, but her motherhood does not negate her feminism.

Some people have argued that the final fight scene between Molly Weasley and Bellatrix Lestrange is a symbolic fight between motherhood/domesticity and feminism. They say that motherhood is chocked full of characteristics that feminists despise. They say that J.K. Rowling wrote from a Christian perspective to show the value of true womanhood or some other bull like that.

It’s not true, because feminists don’t hate motherhood. Feminism is about equality between the sexes. Giving women every opportunity that a man has, and every advantage, and every right to do so. A woman should be able to do whatever she wants with her life, and should be able to accomplish that goal if she works hard and is good at that particular thing. She shouldn’t be held back just because she has ovaries. This encompasses everything from a Fortune 500 CEO to a stay at home mom. To each her own.

Not my daughter, you bitch!

Not my daughter, you bitch!

The very idea that feminists could somehow despise motherhood is beyond. That’s just blatant anti-feminist propaganda  Feminists clearly want us all to stop be loving, nurturing, and warm. Of course those evil feminists want all women to be barren so they don’t have to be afflicted with the sexist burden of children.
Molly Weasley Chuck NorrisIt’s true that Molly doesn’t fit the traditional feminist roll; nonetheless, Molly Weasley is a feminist. She’s strong, independent, nurturing, determined, intelligent, strong-willed, loyal, loving, egalitarian, the head of her household–a house filled with mostly boys, and she can fight. She is a fierce warrior who is deadly with a wand. Molly Weasley is not the embodiment of family fighting against the embodiment of something else. She’s a feminist fighting for family.


Bellatrix Lestrange a Feminist!

Yes, that psychopath we all love to hate, Bellatrix Lestrange, sister to Narcissa, murderer of a one notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black, slayer of Dobby, lover of Voldy, escapee of Azkaban, collector of figurine elephants and people’s souls, is a strong woman figure.

Bellatrix Lestrange Wanted Poster

You can’t deny it. Yes, she’s evil. Yes, she’s wicked. And bat-shit crazy. But damn, she’s fabulous.

Bellatrix LestrangeShe’s determined.

She’s capable of tremendous loyalty.

She’s clever. Resourceful.

She’s prepared to die for what she believes in.

She’s powerful and influential in a male-dominated society, the Death Eaters.

She pushes back against society. Sure, that society is Hogwarts and the good people, and the changes she wants is purebloods over equality, so there’s that. So not so feminist or egalitarian there. But still.

I found a couple people online disputing this. These people shall remain nameless, but here are my responses:

 s—o says: she also had to fight in a sparkly dress and heels and curled hair, because women can’t wear normal fighting clothes.

Bitch, please. She is fabulous. She is fighting people left and right and looking fantastic while doing it. That has nothing to do with feminism. She doesn’t have to walk around in sweats and a baseball cap.

t—k says: she depnded on a man to rescue her from Azkaban. if she was so strong she would have escaped herself.

It’s Azkaban! What do you expect?? She can’t just be like “Okay guys, it’s been fun, but I think I’m gonna leave now! Kthxbye.” Bellatrix did not depend on a man to rescue her. She had no intention of being rescued.

y—t says: why did a woman kill her? a man can’t kill her because that would be to rude. a woman should only be killed by another woman. thats anti feminist!

*headdesk* Yeah, it’s totally rude. Before a man kills a woman, he has to lay his coat down on the ground for her to collapse upon.
Molly was protecting her daughter. I’m sorry Molly doesn’t have testicles or something.

All of you.. just… all of you…

This is my exasperation towards all of you.

This is my exasperation towards you.

Hermione is a Feminist

I remember watching an interview of an actress from the Hunger Games (I don’t know which one) and something she said really stood out to me. She said there aren’t a lot of strong female characters out there, which is why Katniss and the Hunger Games was really cool.


I beg to differ.

Let me count the strong female characters in Harry Potter: all of them! Hermione, Luna, McGonagall, Ginny, Molly Weasley, Tonks, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Trelawney, Pomona Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, Lily Potter, Cho Chang, Alice Longbottom, Katie Bell, Fleur Delacour…. on and on and on!

Hermione stands out the most to me, however. She is the most feminist, the strongest, and the coolest. Here’s why:

1. Brightest witch of her age. She makes it cool to be a bookworm. “Honestly, don’t you two read?” Without her, Harry would have Hermione 1never been able to defeat Voldemort the first time, or the second time, or the third… or fourth… or known who Nicolas Flamel was, or known the Basilisk was using the pipes, or been able to save Buckbeak… Okay, basically Harry (and the world) was damn lucky to have Hermione there to know what’s what.

2. Hermione is courageous. (She is in Gryfindor, after all.) Even when she was in her first year of Hogwarts and labelled as a know-it-all, she refused to dumb herself down to be accepted by others. She fears little else but failure. Oh yeah, and she stood up to the greatest, evilist wizard ever. So there’s that.

Hermione Granger 23. Hermione withstood Bellatrix’s torture. It would have been so much easier to give up while trapped in the Malfoy’s mansion filled with deatheaters, being tortured by the infamous Bellatrix LaStrange then to resist, but Hermione resisted.

4. Hermione’s a badass! She snuck into the restricted section of the library. She trapped the annoying Rita Skeeter in a jar when she
finds her eavesdropping, and then blackmails her. She lead Dolores Umbridge into a trap in the Forbidden Forest! She gets this reputation for being prim and proper, but just look how wrong that is.
hermione 25. She doesn’t have the double-ended sword. Usually women who are highly logical/rebellious/aggressive are stripped of their femininity or emotions. Hermione doesn’t have this problem. She was written to eschew stereotypes. She gets to have her cake and eat it too!

6. When the trio are out hunting for horcruxes and Ron leaves, Hermione doesn’t have a break down. Sure, Hermione grangershe’s devastated; but she pulls herself together. She stays to help Harry, and she keeps searching for horcruxes (unlike some female characters… *Cough* Bella *cough*)

hermione granger 17. She’s a true feminist! Hermione is constantly pushing back against the rules, calling for equality. It’s her idea to start Dumbledore’s
Army, which was very against the rules. In GoF, she yells at her best friend after he defends house elves’ enslavement; then she goes one step further–creating a student organization dedicated to the freedom and fair pay of house elves.

Being a Nerd is Hard. (Anxiety Sucks Ass)


When I say being a nerd is hard, I’m not talking about watching Star Wars for the seventeenth time… this month. Or reading comics books, or playing video games consuming your life and you can’t remember what the sun looks like because you’ve been too busy beating Ocarina of Time again. No, I’m talking about the other side of the word “nerd”. The introvert. The socially awkward. The Sheldon/Howard/Raj side of it. (Leonard seems pretty well-adapted to me).

I just went outside to wash a cup in the lounge kitchen area. People down the hall started to talk. Two girls and a guy. Just talking. I couldn’t see them. And suddenly a heaviness descended on my chest, like a fat raccoon with little beady judgmental eyes was sitting on me. I couldn’t breathe. My stomach felt like a tense fist. I just wanted to get out of there. Abandon the cup, save yourself!

(Thank God Harry didn’t say that in the Lestrange Vault)

Anxiety…. Anxiety is hard. My first year in college, I lived in the dorms. There was a community kitchen in the lounge area. I had frozen burritos and pizza rolls in the freezer down there. It was down the hall, not thirty feet away. It would literally take three minutes to go out, microwave a burrito, and get back into my room. I wouldn’t do it. I would go sometimes all weekend long with barely eating anything.

I don’t know exactly why I couldn’t go down the hall, I would just get too… I don’t know how to describe it. I couldn’t. I would sit on my bed and try to talk myself into getting a burrito for ten minutes, I would finally scrape up enough courage to go get food, and before I could open my door more than a crack I would hear voices of girls in the lounge laughing, and I would slam the door shut. The pit of my stomach would clamp up; my body would suddenly feel cold and clammy, like refrigerated meat; and a black, slick fear would replace my hunger.

Anxiety is not rational. No matter how much rationality and logic I poured down my own throat, I couldn’t break the unforgivable curse Anxiety had cast on me.

Just the other day, in fact, I had a little emotional breakdown (can breakdowns even be little?) at the prospect of walking the five minutes to one of the nicer eateries (which is totally a word. I Googled it) on campus because the closest one to me closes on Fridays. My friend offered the solution of asking one of the many girls who live on my floor if they wanted to go with me. That was even worse than going alone. In fact, that idea was at least five times worse. Don’t get me wrong, all of the girls on my floor seem super nice, and nothing bad or traumatizing has ever happened to me at said eatery. But I couldn’t stop crying while just thinking about going.

Now, you may think that this post is me fishing for comfort, or support, or sympathy, but that’s not what I want at all. I am ripping my chest open and revealing my red, beating heart to the faceless, nameless sea of people sailing the frothy, cold internet… and it’s terrifying. But it’ll be worth it if one person, somewhere, somehow stumbles upon this entry, reads it, and thinks: “That’s me”. My deepest wish is that someone out there will realize that they’re not alone, that they’re not the only one who has these sorts of fears and doubts. Because for a long, long time, I thought I was alone. In fact, for a while, I couldn’t even name these feelings. 

And I know anxiety isn’t an exclusive “nerd” problem, nor do all nerds have anxiety. But I know at the very least some do. I’m one of them. And if you’re one too… I know not who you are, nor how you came to find me, but may I just say…. Hi. How ya doing?  

I don’t have any sort of answers, but I still hope this helps. The best I can do is say I understand.

Best Wishes,




I am a Nerd, Thank You Very Much

I am socially awkward. I am introverted. Rather than going out with my friends, partying, or patrolling for cute guys, I like to stay in and read, or write, or watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I love Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Firefly, Narnia, Legend of the Seeker, X-Men, Primeval, Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Portal, the list goes on. I am a nerd. A nerd I say!

However, my sister says I’m not a nerd. She says I’m not cool enough to be a nerd.

So in recent events, the “nerd” has grown in popularity. Except not really. Things that used to be looked down upon have suddenly sprung up as not only being socially acceptable, but endorsed. But these supposed “nerds” are not actually nerds. The popular people are still the popular people on the top of the food pyramid, and the socially awkward people are still on the bottom. As one of my favorite memes would say:


It took me a long time to accept my identity as a nerd. People made fun of me, called me weird, and teased me, hissing out nerd like Basilisk venom. I used to lie awake at bed at night wishing as hard as anyone ever could to be anyone else but myself, wishing not to be a nerd.

It took years, and the vlogbrothers, to accept that part of myself. But I did accept it. And not only that, I learned to love that part of myself. And now, all of the sudden, the same people who cursed me with the name have now stolen it from me. They’ve stolen it from us. They’ve stolen our identity.

Well, who am I now? Where the hell do I belong? I can’t be a nerd, I’m still not “popular”, so where does that leave me?

It leaves me in the desert on a horse with no name.

It leaves me standing on a beach with naught but a name and your word it’s the one I need.

And I don’t care if Shakespeare thinks that a name doesn’t matter, and that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Name does matter. And I have lost mine.

No. No I have not. I am not just going to sit idly by, blooming on the walls, while something so important to me is stripped away like hair on Michael Phelps. No can do. I reclaim my nerdom, clamping it close to my heart with white-knuckled fists. You cannot take away my name.

Dear people who think they can just put on a pair of glasses and call themselves a nerd, GTFO. This is my territory, and I intend to keep it. I plan to defend my title as vigorously as Dr. McCoy defends his. I intend to keep it like Smeagol keeps the Ring. I mean to fight for it like Peter does for Narnia. And for Aslan! And I shall treasure it like Snape does Lily. Always.

Best Wishes,


ACCIO Neil Patrick Harris

Have y’all seen the State Farm commercials? You know, the ones that sing? Here, let me try and post one… let’s see if this works… cross your fingers….

Ha! It worked! … Sort of.

Well, obviously it isn’t as spectacular for you because you could already see there was a video link, but it was a huge accomplishment for me. Okay, maybe not a huge accomplishment. It’s not like I won the Olympics or defeated a whole legion of dementors. Those would be huge accomplishments. This is more like…. snail sex. (What? Did I really just say snail sex? Why would I write that? I could’ve said it’s like after 20 years finally figuring out how to play hopscotch. That would’ve been much better. Oh well, can’t change it now.) Alright, fine, it’s not an accomplishment at all. Happy?

Anyways, we’ve gotten off point. So you know how the commercial works. You sing the jingle, add something you want like a hot tub or a sandwich, and bippity-boppity-boo, it appears.

I was hanging in the lounge of my building with some friends when this subject came up. We all took turns singing the jingle and then asking for something. When my turn came around, I asked for Neil Patrick Harris (of course).

Another girl, who was also in the lounge, turned to me and said “Yeah, good one. Except he’s gay, so that kind of ruins it.”

Kind of ruins it…. Kind of ruins what? I don’t understand. What was she expecting to do with a magically acquired man that she couldn’t do with a gay one? I wanted Neil so we could hang out and talk… and so he could sing me songs from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. What if I had said Tom Felton or Johnny Depp? What deplorable, perverted things were you planning on doing to my man, lady??

But let’s be honest, nothing could ruin NPH. Not even snail sex. True story.

You would think that after 20+ years on this Earth, of 20+ years being around people, that would be enough time to stop being shocked or surprised by what came out of people’s mouths. It’s not. We all know it’s not nearly enough time. You could double that number, probably even triple it, maybe even quadruple it, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, and this is only rarely, I wish I was Edward Cullen. Wait, hear me out. Because he was able to read people’s minds. Because behind every statement is the thought that lies beneath. Behind every question is the real question begging to be asked. Sometimes I wish I knew what people were actually thinking. And then I realize that I probably really, really don’t, because how terrifying would that be? I mean, sparkling in the sun? Not my idea of a good time.

Edward discovered that most people were thinking about sex or money. And sometimes cats. Which leads me back to Neil (the sex, not the cats). Why are we always thinking about sex? I’m not just talking about horny teenagers here, I mean throughout human history, dating all the way back to cave drawings and stick figure memes, sex has been an integral part of our lives, and it still is today. Tabloids and gossip magazines are always He cheated on her, or My mother’s having my baby, plus Guess who got caught, not to mention Their breaking up, and every once in a while Their getting back together, married, pregnant, divorced, and now she’s gay! on and on and on.

We, as a species, as a culture, are obsessed. Obsessed I say! Asking for a man with the State Farm song was only valid if I got a heterosexual man.

So here’s my two cents. Sex is not that important, not in the grand scheme of things, and not at the expense of other people. It seems like so much drama, whether real life or television life, stems from this. Don’t look at people as gateways to sex or salvation. Treat them as if they were human beings, because, baring any unforeseen pod people invasions, chances are they are.