An Uber driver once asked me what I wanted to do after high school. “I want to go into psychology and business. After that, I want to work with companies to improve their sustainability and efforts to stop the climate crisis.” Rather than the response I expected, which was mostly an interested grunt along with a hint of being impressed. I got the response I hear too often,
“You should let the men handle those big issues. You’re too pretty to be dealing with the important stuff.” I wished I could scream in his face,
“... it is as great to be a woman as it is to be a man!” We are more than capable of picking up YOUR mess!
I wished I could kick and yell that men were causing the problem. I didn’t, this man was at least 35, and I had to sit in the car with him for 20 more minutes. I’m not stupid. Remembering the story my friend had told me only a day ago. She was riding on the trolley, sitting alone on her phone. A man “fell” on the trolley that wasn’t moving and grabbed onto her chest. He didn’t let go until she screamed and hit him. I’m not stupid. I keep my mouth shut.
Walking down the street, I was admittedly dressed a little sloppy, but I didn’t really care. I was just going to my local CVS to get some more tampons and Advil. As I reached for what I needed, a woman said from behind me, “I wouldn’t have been able to tell you were a girl if you hadn’t just picked those up. You should really dress more feminine.” I rolled my eyes and could feel her staring as my 5’5 body, wearing running shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, with long hair and makeup, walked to the register. I didn’t understand why she felt the need to say those things or why she cared. To be frank, I still can’t. How do people say such cruel things? Not just people but adults talk to children, say awful, degrading words as if they mean nothing and move on. It doesn’t make sense to me.
“Sounds of the city, and sounds out of the city—sounds of the day and night;” For men, the sounds of the city are experienced in the day and night. For me, they are only heard during the day or from the security of my house. I’m not allowed to take my dogs for their nighttime walk up the block and back down. I’m not allowed to drive past 10 pm. Why? My brother didn’t have these rules. Why do I? I never asked, but I always knew. It’s the same reason my friends ask me if I'm ok when I take a few minutes too long to walk to their house. It’s the same reason I always bring a sweatshirt on the train. It’s the same reason I wear shorts under my skirt and master the art of avoiding a man's eye contact.
I am a woman. That's all, just like more than half of the population.
I am a woman.
*Contains quotes from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself