Update: I really, really need to screw decorum.
I put this post up the other night and then removed it in the cold harshness of the morning. It’s a rant that I pounded out on the keyboard in the middle of a fit of anger, but the next day I became uncomfortable with it. I prefer not to get overly emotional on a blog (after all, it ain’t real life). Dave was disappointed that I deleted the post, and emails started arriving from people who wanted to know if I was becoming a phantom blogger. Upon reconsideration and in response to the email requests, I have decided to swallow my discomfort and put the post back up. Here it is.
I try to pride myself on being fairly rational and level-headed. But every now and then I lose it. And I lose it big time. And there is no telling what it is that sets me off. This time, I think it was an innocuous, routine daily visit to the BBC news site. Today, I clicked onto the “health” page and was struck by 3 stories. One was about a woman effusing over how “womanly” she feels after her breast enhancement surgery. The second story was about a website, based in the US, where women post pictures and personal details about themselves in the hopes that male readers will donate money to allow them to afford breast surgery. The third story was about a medic in India who specializes in aborting female fetuses. I lost it. I lost it…big time.
In my attempts to keep abreast of world events, to broaden my horizons, to save myself from intellectual laziness, I make a habit of cruising blog and newsites on a daily basis. I am increasingly faced with stories that alternately terrify me and make my blood boil. I encounter so-called Christians (and I refuse to believe that any of these fundy extremists come even close to the true meaning of a Christian) advocate..nay, demand..that their beliefs should be held supreme. And so many of their beliefs centre on the insistence that women hold the same importance as a piece of dogshit.
I am so goddamned sick and tired of being told that, due to my gender (an accident of birth), I am responsible for the downfall/superiority of civilization, the 100% mental wellness of all children and men (excuse me, but when it comes to men and children, is that one category or two?), that I should be willing give up my life to a pile of semi-organized cells medically referred to as a cytoblast, that it is my fault that men are too damn lazy and irresponsible to control their childish impulses, that I have only a narrow, limiting, psychotic inducing, valium-required, degrading little box that I’m allowed to live in.
I’m 50 years old. I’ve have encountered every goddamned form of sexual discrimination there is. I don’t give a shit about pink airlines and whether or not women should shave their legs. I have had my job threatened ( and my ability to put food on the table) if I didn’t have sex with the boss. I have been told, a thousand times, that I don’t have the brains to do a job that a 16 year-old boy is entrusted with. I have been the victim of a brutal sexual assault and told that I had no business opening my door to a stranger. I have been told that I was guilty of uncountable offensives because I was young, female and attractive. And now that I am 50 years old and no longer young and attractive, I am told that I am nothing in this world.
I have one question for you…world. WHEN THE FUCK DID WOMEN AGREE THAT WE WOULD BE THE PUNCHING BAGS OF THE WORLD?
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