I'm going to Chicago next week for the first time ever. Well, I suppose if you don't count the number of times I've had layovers in the O'Hare airport--then it would be 7,326 times. But I don't count any of those times, so you can't either.
I'm excited(ish) about the conference I'll be attending, but I'm even more excited about the delicious food and the giant metal jellybean that I'll be visiting.
I love you already, Chicago.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Oh. NO. You. Didn't.
Confession: I bought a Cosmo (magazine--I wish I bought the drink instead, but alas) when I was at the grocery store today. If you've seen one issue of Cosmo, you've seen 'em all, save for one or two articles...
One of those two articles was titled "The Sex Crime No One Talks About," then went on to discuss how women are groped, harassed, etc. at random (in the streets, clubs, parking lot, airplane! eek!) and feel violated, but don't feel they can/should report it. Many times, the police do little-to-nothing for the victims, partially because it's hard to track down a man who grabbed your breasts in a crowded room, but partially because...well, a host of reasons, including "she asked for it." I was appalled at the personal stories listed in the article, but then I started thinking about all the times stuff like this has happened to me and I didn't do anything about it. I didn't push the guy away from me, I didn't scream out "Hey!", I didn't tell the person next to me what had just happened--no, I stood there frozen, shocked, scared that something like that happened to me.
After I read the article, I started thinking about the most recent incident of being harassed when I was walking home from campus. A car full of boys slowed down as it passed me. One of the boys in the back seat rolled down the window and shouted "Damn girl! I'd tap that fat ass!" And if the shame of being called fat didn't outweigh my shame at the fact that I wasn't immediately upset that I was being shouted at in the first place-- the feminist inside me didn't immediately react; it was the words they chose that bothered me--they threw a cup full of God-knows-what at me. I think it was water. I hope it was water. Then they sped off. Tears blurred my eyes from being able to discern any characters on a license plate. I spent the next block holding back the sob that was itching to burst out of my throat until I was able to get home & collapse on my bed.
I didn't tell anyone about it immediately because I was embarrassed. Before I step out in public, not only do I try to hide the parts I hate about myself--my weight, my hips, my gut--I try to hide anything that might be deemed remotely attractive to keep asshole dudes from announcing their unwanted attention from their vehicles (or, hell, their own two legs). I do this so I won't be ridiculed. So I won't be laughed at. So I won't be mocked. So I won't be whistled at. So I won't be harassed. But you know what? I am anyway.
My embarrassment has taken a dramatic turn into anger. What gives anybody the right to comment on my appearance? Oh, you know what? Not a damn thing. Just because some dude thinks it's flattering to me because I'm oh-so-hot that he must roll down his window and lick his lips at me while honking his horn does NOT give him the right to do so. And just because some dude--or a car full of them--thinks it's appropriate to tell me that despite my weight, he'd like a chance at having sex with me does NOT give him the right to say it out loud.
For the boys who very mistakenly thought it would be appropriate:
1.) I am NOT a girl. I AM A WOMAN. I'd suggest you'd start educating yourselves on how to treat one.
2.) I am not fat. I have lost 25 pounds in the last two months and I know my "fat ass" looks goooood. Yes. 5-o's good.
3.) Just because it looks goooood does NOT mean you'll ever get it.
4.) Just because it looks goooood does NOT mean you can comment on how bad you want it.
5.) I am perfectly aware of how goooood I look and I do NOT need or want your affirmation. Your "affirmation" actually only makes me that much more insecure and afraid and pissed off. Keep it to yourself.
6.) I did NOT get dressed for you this morning or any other morning for that matter. I do NOT put on make-up or decide to go au naturale based on your preferences. Therefore, what you think matters enough to you to say aloud to me actually doesn't. At all. It makes me just want to punch you in the face.
7.) Next time you see an amazing woman walking down the street, I do NOT care how unbelievably amazing you think she is or she actually is--do NOT disrespect her. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.
8.) A woman--some woman, somewhere--brought you into this world. Don't make THIS woman take you out of it.
That is all.
One of those two articles was titled "The Sex Crime No One Talks About," then went on to discuss how women are groped, harassed, etc. at random (in the streets, clubs, parking lot, airplane! eek!) and feel violated, but don't feel they can/should report it. Many times, the police do little-to-nothing for the victims, partially because it's hard to track down a man who grabbed your breasts in a crowded room, but partially because...well, a host of reasons, including "she asked for it." I was appalled at the personal stories listed in the article, but then I started thinking about all the times stuff like this has happened to me and I didn't do anything about it. I didn't push the guy away from me, I didn't scream out "Hey!", I didn't tell the person next to me what had just happened--no, I stood there frozen, shocked, scared that something like that happened to me.
After I read the article, I started thinking about the most recent incident of being harassed when I was walking home from campus. A car full of boys slowed down as it passed me. One of the boys in the back seat rolled down the window and shouted "Damn girl! I'd tap that fat ass!" And if the shame of being called fat didn't outweigh my shame at the fact that I wasn't immediately upset that I was being shouted at in the first place-- the feminist inside me didn't immediately react; it was the words they chose that bothered me--they threw a cup full of God-knows-what at me. I think it was water. I hope it was water. Then they sped off. Tears blurred my eyes from being able to discern any characters on a license plate. I spent the next block holding back the sob that was itching to burst out of my throat until I was able to get home & collapse on my bed.
I didn't tell anyone about it immediately because I was embarrassed. Before I step out in public, not only do I try to hide the parts I hate about myself--my weight, my hips, my gut--I try to hide anything that might be deemed remotely attractive to keep asshole dudes from announcing their unwanted attention from their vehicles (or, hell, their own two legs). I do this so I won't be ridiculed. So I won't be laughed at. So I won't be mocked. So I won't be whistled at. So I won't be harassed. But you know what? I am anyway.
My embarrassment has taken a dramatic turn into anger. What gives anybody the right to comment on my appearance? Oh, you know what? Not a damn thing. Just because some dude thinks it's flattering to me because I'm oh-so-hot that he must roll down his window and lick his lips at me while honking his horn does NOT give him the right to do so. And just because some dude--or a car full of them--thinks it's appropriate to tell me that despite my weight, he'd like a chance at having sex with me does NOT give him the right to say it out loud.
For the boys who very mistakenly thought it would be appropriate:
1.) I am NOT a girl. I AM A WOMAN. I'd suggest you'd start educating yourselves on how to treat one.
2.) I am not fat. I have lost 25 pounds in the last two months and I know my "fat ass" looks goooood. Yes. 5-o's good.
3.) Just because it looks goooood does NOT mean you'll ever get it.
4.) Just because it looks goooood does NOT mean you can comment on how bad you want it.
5.) I am perfectly aware of how goooood I look and I do NOT need or want your affirmation. Your "affirmation" actually only makes me that much more insecure and afraid and pissed off. Keep it to yourself.
6.) I did NOT get dressed for you this morning or any other morning for that matter. I do NOT put on make-up or decide to go au naturale based on your preferences. Therefore, what you think matters enough to you to say aloud to me actually doesn't. At all. It makes me just want to punch you in the face.
7.) Next time you see an amazing woman walking down the street, I do NOT care how unbelievably amazing you think she is or she actually is--do NOT disrespect her. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.
8.) A woman--some woman, somewhere--brought you into this world. Don't make THIS woman take you out of it.
That is all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)