I have replaced names and places with aliases in order to keep the identity of those people private. All of the quotes and snippets below are things I've heard and experienced over the years, and have documented in my journal. This is not a work of fiction, sadly these are real experiences. However, they only motivate me more than they demolish me.
"Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings."
-Cheris Kramarae
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"She's such a slut, I hate her. I don't know why she even joined this club if she's going to just flirt around." I sit quietly and listen to Alice talk to me and Jane about Ramona. Should I defend her? I knew in my heart the answer was yes, but I just sat there and nodded my head to what Alice was saying--as if I agreed.
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"Can I Dad?" I asked excitedly a smile spreading from cheek to cheek, the dimple on my left cheek began to deepen with joy. My dad had just asked me, or so I assumed he was referring to me, and my brothers if we wanted to go to work with him. He was a landscape architect and I always admired his work. I can remember sitting on his knee and watching him design an oasis like landscape on the computer. I would stare in awe at the beauty he had created, often offering my appraisal on the flowers he had chosen, or the placement of a bush. But my favorite part was watching his design come to life. However, I always wondered what the process was like, and here was my chance not only to witness it, but participate in creating a paradise.
"No, I was asking your brothers?" My Dad said dismissively, not realizing the harshness of his calm words.
"But... Why not? I'm older than Cam by 2 years, and only younger than Ron by 6. I can handle it. Please?" I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around it, it was like an enigma to.
"Yes you are baby girl, but that's the thing, you're a girl." My face slowly fell, and I glared at my brothers, bitterness welling within me.
I was 8 at the time...
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"I honestly wouldn't mind if Dad dated a bunch of women, not at the same time of course." "Well what about if Mom dated a bunch of men?" I watched as his face scrunched up as if repulsed by the mere idea of it. Only silence hung in the air, the question slowly fading into oblivion as he walked out of my bedroom closing the door behind.
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I sat in my room debating on what jeans to wear, it was jean day at my school -- a rare occurrence not to be taken lightly.
My mother passed by my room and asked if I was ready, to which I replied no with a heavy sigh.
"Why not? Just wear the new skinny jeans I bought you."
"I can't, skinny jeans aren't allowed." I say as I contine to rummage through my drawers.
"Oh Hunny, don't worry! You're skinny, you can get away with it."
My brows crease as I look over at the spot she once stood in; her words lingering.
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"I wouldn't call myself a feminist, it has such a bad rep."
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"I hate when a man cries, men aren't supposed to cry."
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It was my first day of school and the bell for second hour began to ring. I gritted my teeth and picked up my speed. "I'm already late on my first day" I thought bitterly, but could you blame me? I was a freshman. I gingerly knocked on the door, palms sweaty. Oh joy, the whole class would be watching me. I was right, but what I didn't expect was to be surrounded by boys. There was only one other girl there, I watched as her eyes widened, and her lips began to twitch into a smile.
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"Hey Sexy! Hey Girl! You with the perky (I'll just leave what he said to the imagination, but I can assure you it felt just as demeaning as it sounded)!" I shook my head and kept walking.
Since when was my name Sexy? Or Girl? If you wanted my attention simply say excuse me. It isn't that hard and it gets you much better results.
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"You need to stop wearing those tight skirts." My friend said jokingly, but I knew there was some truth beneath the surface.
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"You got that man fired? You should feel ashamed." Was I so wrong for telling my mother about the incident? I mean didn't my feelings matter? And I never told him to say what he did, so how was it my fault? Or better yet; how was it my leather pants' fault and my heels' fault? What about that says okay?
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"This has to STOP!!!!!!" I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but never did. It was like a fire burning in my lungs, I couldn't breathe, I was drowning; murdered by society. With each catcall, slut and body shaming phrase, with each falsified image of what "true beauty" is supposed to look like... I am speared straight to my soul, my very core. I stand before society scared and weaponless... just a girl. But I wasn't just a girl. I was so much more and nor was I weaponless... I had the most important weapon of them all; my voice, it had an endless ammunition and it was about time I put it to use.
I didn't discover feminism, feminism discovered me. I was born with it as we all are, but sometimes society makes it to us first. I had always noticed it; the difference between man and woman, boy and girl. It went beyond just the physical and affected the way I, my parents, my family, my friends, and people around me acted. It affected what the media displayed. It was like a virus, it affected all it touched, and it touched many beginning from birth. It was a sickness I had never truly acknowledged although I felt the symptoms and when I did, I presumed it to be incurable. I was "just a girl", this was the way things were supposed to be, right? Oh how wrong I was. At the age of 16 I was cured.
I can't truly remember exactly what sparked my stance in society; maybe it was that I was sick of being told how to act, or what I could and couldn't do. Maybe I was sick of watching popular music videos of half clothed women being called the b word while men stood next to them fully clothed. Maybe I was tired of the double standards, need I name them? The point is I was simply sick and tired! I had to do something, but what could I do, how could I do it? I don't know if it was luck, fate, or what, but as I sat on my bed I had a brilliant idea; my senior project. I couldn't quite figure out what to write about... then it hit me; gender inequality. I would write about gender inequality in the media, and how it affected youth. My decision to choose this project shocked my fellow classmates, I received backlash from a few of them; male and female alike. It was however, the best decision I've made. Through it I found myself, I had shed some invisible exoskeleton. What was left was a new and better me, fully amp with a vision, and a voice. I no longer sit quiet, I speak my mind, and it turns out people are actually interested in what I have to say. I had found my voice, and with it I pierced and continue to pierce the patriarchy just as it pierced me once before.
Hell hath no fury like a woman with a vision and a voice.
