Mirco-Aggressions of the Entitled Man
This notice should be better addressed, as many of you are ignorant of your entitlement. You think that sexual violation is a plot line for Netflix series or that asking a fourth time for sex is ok because that’s your girlfriend anyway, and on some level, she owes you.
Newsflash: she doesn’t. No woman does.
Allow me to speculate. You were raised by a woman of the Second Wave, but you might not even know it because why would you? You are given the mixed messages of our time: sex is critical, but here’s a million scare tactics about the risks. Here’s misinformation and religious propaganda funded by our separate-from-church government. Our generation had access to porn that typically takes female pleasure for granted and sets a standard for impossible expectations across the board. Despite being told that girls can do anything, you didn’t see girls doing everything. Most teachers were women, but most doctors were men. Secretary meant female, congressman meant male. In history you’re told that the man’s last name marks the whole family. That first born sons, and then all other sons, inherit before women, for centuries. Queens beneath Kings. At church, the Sky Daddy explains his Word through men, discussing men, and heralding great men. No matter the lessons preached on afternoon specials, you knew you were better, more, somehow greater than your gender counterparts.
Given that background, and since I’m living in the Deep South and people are actually wasting their time fighting to save Confederacy monuments in 2017, let’s just assume you’re a Good Ol’ White Boy. You have so many advantages that having them pointed out leaves you feeling threatened. One more reason for you to lash out. Despite being raised by strong women who worked and reared your spoiled, selfish ass, you never took the time to learn to listen and hear. Your communication is shit, and you have no excuse.
As a teenager, as a young man, you have been steeped in this ignorance and safety for years. Your hormones start to rage, and maybe men can’t think as well when that happens. That was one of the many lines I was fed to compensate for violation. Whatever the fucking failure is on your end, that’s where it starts and exists and implodes. You grab your sister and force her into sharing her time in the bathroom. You squeeze the ass of that girl in gym class under the guise of playing volleyball. You invite yourself over and insist on one more kiss, one more embrace, one more feel before you go.
These are not the ones out there committing rape, although I’d wager one leads to the other. I’m specifically talking about the man-child community in America that acts the toddler, pushing his boundaries inch by inch. The boy that pushed his mom to give in is now pushing his victim with the same tactics.
And why wouldn’t he? It worked when he wanted that game system or that extra $10 for the movies as a kid. It works in school and sports. Ask one more time, maybe ask for a bit less. Make a compromise, strike a deal. As long as you get what you want.
Your wants are clearly more important than anyone else’s.
I’m trying to be sympathetic. I get that you’re ill educated and maybe unable to work Google. Maybe you don’t understand that one in four women have already been raped by age eighteen. And of course you don’t know that, because you are not someone a survivor would feel safe disclosing around. I bet you think you don’t know anyone who has been raped, assaulted, grabbed without permission, or taken advantage of, do you? Must be nice.
I’m tired of feeling guilty and weird that maybe I’ll offend you when you violate my space. I’m sick of worrying about telling my allies or minimizing my truth. I live in a victim shaming culture. Most women who are killed are done in by a former lover. You’re dangerous and more likely to be believed. I’ll be grilled about my alcohol intake and wardrobe. I don’t have the same safety to even explore the idea that you crossed a line. If I say the wrong thing, I could ruin your life. And we’ve already established how your life is the greater good.
Still, I have a ray of hope. I’m not the only one who sees you. I’m not the only one getting fed up. We’ve almost all been harmed now by you and your kind. My kind are talking. In the shadow corners, where you discard the girls and women you use, we’ve been whispering to each other. Our numbers are vast. Our strength is building. Our wounds are healing, and soon…one day soon.
For now, spread the word to the rest of your disgusting kin. Respect our lines. Stay within yours. And fear the worst if you can’t be strong enough to see us as equal creatures on this planet.