I’ve been working on this post on and off for a long time. I
started it, then I started over, then I edited it a bunch, then I started over
again. Then I decided not to post it at all. It was just too hard.
Then a while back, I happened upon this post by Single Dad Laughing, and my fire reignited. His
post helped me find the words my heart wanted to say. Here are a few of my
favorite lines:
I ask you
seriously, men. Do we not realize what we have done to the women of this world?
Do we not recognize the atrocities we have committed? We have destroyed the very beauty that
women are….
It doesn’t take opening
your mouth to propound these things. It doesn’t take flapping your lips to
make a statement. It doesn’t take verbal anything to
spread this vicious ideology. All it takes is you and me, stopping and
looking….
It is not the
impossibly air brushed females on magazine covers who are causing women to
hold themselves against a standard of perfection… It is the men that
stop and look at those magazines.
I thought this perspective coming from a man was really cool. You
should take a minute and read it.
So thanks to SDL,
I finally got these words out of my head. (And I warn you, there are a lot of words.) Many months later, I finally
found the courage to actually publish them.
So. Here goes nothin’.
For as long as I can remember, the whole concept of strippers and
porn has really pissed me off. For example, when I was still in grade school,
my friend’s dad kept a few copies of Playboy
in their bathroom. Even though I was curious about what was in there, I didn’t
look. I felt this mixture of fear, anxiety and anger that is still confusing to
me now as an adult, and even more so back then. All I know is that it kept me
from using the bathroom at her house.
I’d like to say that my emotions around this issue have changed as
I’ve gotten older, that I’ve made sense of them. But that’s not the case. Although
socially acceptable by many people, I find the whole sex industry appalling. And
by “sex industry,” I mean damn near all of the media we come into contact with
today.
You might think I’m just a prude, but I assure you, I am not.
You might think I just don’t have enough self-confidence in my own
body. Yeah, there may be some truth to that, but I think even if I had a
physique sexy enough to grace the cover of Maxim,
I would still feel this way. The two are mutually exclusive.
Even after talking about this in therapy a few years ago, my anger
about the issue remains, but I’m starting to understand why I feel the way I do.
I’m also learning that I’m not the only one who feels this way.
To me, strippers, porn, nudie magazines – they all represent a
feeling of entitlement a lot of men have to women’s bodies, which results
in power over our bodies and our spirits.
The days of the Mad Men era have long past,
and women rarely have to worry about men chasing them around the office trying
to get a peek at their panties. (Yes, that happened in one episode, one of the
many scenes that made for a very “Mad Mel.”)
But though its appearance has changed since the 1960s, the
entitlement still exists.
I’ve experienced sexual harassment in the office several times
over the years, and in four instances, the harassment was ongoing. I was young
then and too afraid to say anything. Eventually each situation resolved itself,
as many things do in time, but not without taking its toll.
In my young, naïve clubbing days, there were the guys who loitered
around the women’s restroom and grabbed your arm when you walked by. Many girls
giggled coyly and playfully admonished them. I was not one of those girls, and
my admonishment was neither coy nor playful. I snatched my arm back and shot
them evil looks. They would call me a bitch or something worse as I walked
away.
There was the gas station attendant who got intimidatingly close
to me at the pump as he tried to back me into my car. The only witnesses were his
three laughing co-workers. I yanked out the hose and sped away. That was the
only gas station on the way to my school from work, so I drove well out of my
way to get gas after that. I no longer
had the simple freedom to go to the most convenient gas station.
There was the drunk who grabbed my wrist as I walked by him after having
dinner with co-workers at a nearby table. “You can’t leave yet,” he sneered. “I
have plans for you.” I jerked away and hurried out the door as he and his friends
laughed and my co-workers stared. On top of feeling afraid and angry, I was humiliated.
There was the strange man who wouldn’t accept no for an answer
when I declined his offer to walk me to my car on a dark street. I had just
left a restaurant alone in an unfamiliar part of town when he appeared out of
nowhere. When he wouldn’t stop walking next to me, I turned and confronted him
with my keys in his face, and he backed away as my voice got louder. I cried
and shook the whole drive home.
There was the well dressed businessman perusing a suggestive
magazine one morning at the 7-Eleven near my office. He peered over the pages,
winked at me, then looked me up and down. I quickly paid for my items, and
glanced back at him as I walked out. He was still leering with a smile that makes
my skin prickle when I think about it. I felt as naked as those girls in the
magazine. He intended to make me uncomfortable, and it worked. He had power
over me using just his eyes, and he knew it.
Sadly, I could tell you many more stories. Too many stories.
Almost every woman has stories like these – moments when she felt
afraid, powerless, dehumanized, reduced, violated or small. All because a man
felt entitled.
I know there’s a very broad spectrum here. Most men probably don’t
feel entitled at all, and there are some men who are mostly harmless and just
stare a little too long… and then there are some men who are not so harmless….
That’s why I have such a hard time being okay with strippers and
porn and even Maxim. I don’t think
these things cause that entitlement
mentality, but I do think they perpetuate it. Men are told that it’s okay,
normal. “Boys will be boys,” and all that bullshit. I think the seed gets
planted when they are just boys, and as they grow up surrounded by sexually
charged images and messages – and the message that these things are perfectly
acceptable – the entitlement mentality gets watered and nourished, and it grows
and spreads like a weed.
Some may say it’s women’s fault. We’re the ones who pose for
magazines and dance on poles. While I don’t think we’re are innocent in this,
we don’t shoulder all the blame. It’s simple economics. Where there is a
demand, there will be a supply. And there will always be plenty of women with
daddy issues, or who are desperate for attention, or have low self-esteem, or who
need money for drugs or just to feed their children. There will always be that woman
who allows men on Howard Stern to throw cupcakes at her. (Oh yes, that really
happened. I’m not even going to link to it, it’s so disgusting. Don’t get me
started on that fucking asshole.) There will always be women who will allow
themselves to be objectified.
I think for women to stop meeting the demand, we have to raise
the collective self-esteem of women in our society. From a young age, girls
are bombarded with messages that their value lies only in their physical
appearance, and that a man needs to deem a woman’s body attractive for her to
have any worth. That’s why nine year old girls are bulimic and giving blow
jobs. It’s beyond sickening.
That’s why I found SDL’s post so refreshing – someone’s finally talking about men’s
responsibility in this.
That’s also why I’m a little nervous about raising a son. Of
course, I would have a slew of different, yet related, reasons to be nervous about
raising a daughter.
But more on raising children in Part 2 of this post next
week. This one has turned into a novella, and I still have a lot more say.
I
know you have a lot to say too. So let’s hear it.
