While I recognize that there are other very important social justice demands that deserve attention, this particular piece arises from my personal struggles as a cis, white, middle-class woman and focuses on the singular issue of women's rights. If for any reason you believe I have unduly ignored the intersectionality of sexism and any other oppressive institutions, please feel free to express that to me in a clear manner in the comments or through email.
This labor day weekend I visited a couple of wonderful old friends in DC and while I had a great time, entering city life also provided an unsettling look through the magnifying glass at humanity. Over the course of less-than four days I was catcalled and ridiculed, approached and reprimanded all by men I had never met. A man blocked my way in a liquor store simply because I refused to answer "how's your day going, honey?" At a bar many men attempted to compliment(?) me by gluing their penis to my butt without my even seeing them as I danced. A man walking past on the street mumbled, "girls look good enough to eat" while my friend and I walked along a crowded Chinatown street mid-day. I caught a man on the Metro clandestinely capturing images of me and other women on the train with his camera phone presumably for his future use. And even when not directly approached, the leers were uncountable, occurring perhaps most viciously in the seemingly safe establishment that is the grocery store.
Over the years I have worked hard to maintain my girlish delight that allows me to continually play with the world that surrounds me. I cherish that part of me. But during these four days I had to sink deeper inside myself in order to avoid the psychological torment of the male gaze while ironically feeling safest in the presence of other men I trusted. I lost my quirk. I didn't want them to look at the child inside of me that way. I needed to hide her to protect her.
Then I re-entered the world of my nieces, these three young, silly, wonderful girls who will soon enter puberty and they, too, may learn that in order to protect themselves they'll have to hide from the world, make themselves smaller, disappear into self-hatred. And why?
Our world hates women. Our world tells us this both subliminally through unachievable beauty standards set alongside a narrative that our beauty is our most important asset; as well as outright, through songs declaring, "I've got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one," or, most glaringly, cases of sexual assault that are blamed on the victim. And yet as our girls grow into women, the best answer we can come up with for why they self-destruct–with eating disorders, self-mutilation, or the like–is hormones? Further yet, as we mature out of puberty and deal daily with our tumultuous relationship with this world that hates us, we are still dismissed as "crazy or emotional"?
As a woman who fights for the girl inside myself and the girls I love in this world, I ask why? Why do you hate us so? Why do you love our bodies but not our beings? And why do you refuse to acknowledge the hatred?
I can't stand the debate any longer: the fighting simply to prove that something isn't right when those pubescent girls are screaming that everything is wrong in any way they can. When a woman on the beach is undressed by police officers against her will and people nod their heads and say, yes, I agree, undress her, how is it unclear?
Just look at your daughters and feel the overwhelming love you have for them. Know it will never be enough to combat the insurmountable hatred the world at large feels toward women in general. They will not make it through unscathed, they will be battered even if they're strong. Unless you fucking fight with them to change the game and listen to them in order to learn how to make the world love them, too. And yes, I am speaking to all men (and women).
I'll even give you a hint on where to start: remove the phrase "who cares" from your vocabulary.
