@1 day ago with 47 notes
Because it’s hot out in the city, and when it gets hot, it becomes humid, and the heat descends on the buildings and has nowhere to go and everyone begins to dream of that breeze that comes with the woosh of the subway when it enters the station and women wear sundresses, but women who have bodies — that is to say, all of them — have to be careful that their dress doesn’t show too much skin or too much cleavage or too much leg or suggest too much of a butt because suddenly, her body isn’t hers anymore and a man will comment on it to his friends or worse, to her under his breath, and she will feel vulnerable and alone and scared and worried that something might happen to her. In broad daylight. Surrounded by people. Because even though on paper that seems like a ridiculous conclusion to jump, it’s still there, and it’s still valid, because there is no feeling like feeling as if your body is not your own, as if you do not have ownership of it, that people can do what they want to it, that they can say that they want to do sexual things to it without your consent, and the last time I checked, unwarranted, unsolicited, acts that aren’t consensual was defined as rape. Maybe? And when I want your opinion on my body, I will let you know, but here’s a hint for the kids playing at home: usually, it will come with a pretty explicit gesture of my own that says that I’m into you. It doesn’t usually happen when I walk across the street to go to the drug store, much less at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday. I didn’t wear my dress for you, or for your enjoyment, or for you to think I look pretty, because I don’t know you from a hole in the wall, and frankly, chances are I don’t need your opinion. It isn’t a compliment. Your whistle is not a compliment. Your greeting me as, “Hey, beautiful,” under my breath as I pass isn’t a compliment. Your telling me the eighty different ways you’d like to make me raw isn’t a compliment. It isn’t a self-esteem boost. It’s degrading and it’s shameful and it’s something that I didn’t factor in as a benefit to wearing a low cut dress today. You know what I did factor in? The weather. And when you scowl and call me a bitch for raising my voice and calling you out to other perfect strangers for being such a pig and commenting on how you’d like to bury your face in my tits — yes, really, in the middle of a busy street in Chelsea, too — you still won’t know how I feel.
But I’d rather be a bitch than your piece of meat. I’m tired of being polite, and submissive, and just taking your objectification and your derision. I’d rather you know that women can bite back.
#THIS #favorite bloggers