How to get my blood boiling in 15 seconds or less.

„You know, feminism is a nice concept. But let's be honest: These days, that job is pretty much done. I mean, it's not like you have to stay at home and cook anymore. You can go to work. And if your husband beats you, you can call the police. Honestly – right now, the men are actually the ones you should take pity on. It's really tough for us to define ourselves.“ The guy looks at me with a pained expression and sighs. „We just have to be everything at once and that is a really tough job.“ He sighs again and then finishes his gin and tonic.

We are in a bar, where I met him – the new boyfriend of a good friend – for the first time tonight. He seems to be a decent guy who is nice to my friend, and he did really well on his first night of „meeting the girls“. Until just now. Because now I want to rip his head off, shove it up his arse and also burn him alive. All of a sudden, there is a ridiculous splatter movie scenario in my head.

My friend has heard the last sentence her stupid new boyfriend just uttered and tugs his sleeve, looking a little worried. Not because she just realised that her boyfriend is a dick, but because she knows that he has pissed off her „feminist friend“. And that makes me even angrier and I can barely take the deep breath I need to take in order to say my piece.

Of course, all I really want to do is scream „RAPE! SEXUAL ABUSE! GENITAL MUTILATION! RAPE! STALKING! CHILD PROSTITUTION! RAPE! THE WAGE GAP! SEXUAL HARASSMENT IN THE WORKPLACE! ABORTION OF FEMALE FETUSES IN INDIA! RAPE!“ into his face over and over again, until his eardrums pop and he crumbles to the ground like a deflated blow-up sex doll.

I want to yell about male comedians, who make fun of their girlfriends for a living and male politicians regularly slapping the butts of female journalists. I want to tell him about the sheer panicked horror every woman on earth feels, when she walks home alone at night and hears footsteps behind her. I want to push him into my car and drive with him to the nearest strip club to show him the greasy, sad old men who think they can „buy love“.

I want to show him the statistics about safe houses filled with women who were beaten black and blue by jealous husbands. Or the fact that almost every third woman worldwide has experienced sexual abuse of some sorts in her life. Every third woman.

Meanwhile, young girls are getting shot and beheaded for wanting to go to school. To learn how to read. Which is technically possible, even if you don't have a penis. Trust me, I know up to ten women who can read and write and don't have penises! Isn't that weird?

I want to throw down my drink and ask the guy about why he thinks we teach little girls to be modest and demure and accept little boys to be wild and raucous. I want to show him the men I know, who sometimes refer to sexually active women as „sluts“ and sexually active men as „playyyyyers“. Who think that it's okay to look at my boobs when I'm trying to make a point and who make comments about my short skirts being „not very feminist“. Who simply don't get it. Like him. He just – does not get it. At all.

So I sigh and take a sip of my wine. And then I say this: „Every 20 seconds a woman is raped in this world. So in the time it took for you to say this bullshit, four women have been physically and psychologically damaged for the rest of their lives. If they survive and are not killed or simply “vanish”. So I suggest you talk to someone else about how hard it is to define yourself.“ And then I get up and walk over to some other people.

And I want him to be dumbfounded and ashamed, but I know he is not. He is amused, that he has angered the „Angry Man-Hating-Lady“ and probably grins to his girlfriend in a way that says “Jeez, she needs to get laid!”. But I don't care. Mostly because I just stole his cigarettes and know that he is too scared of me now to want them back. The box is almost full – 15 cigarettes, all paid for by the stupid patriarchy. I light the first one up and exhale the smoke, smiling slightly to myself.

(click pictures for source)

1 comment:

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