June 2013

It’s taken me three days to write this. Last week, I posted Dealing With It. There’s been a lot of response, both public and private. I don’t usually write personal essays; I was staggered. I’ve seen people express curiosity about its reception. With good reason; historically, women who speak up are in line for varying levels of vitriol, and this one achieved enough visibility outside my usual readership that people who know how the internet works were probably bracing a little for impact. I was. So far, the response has been largely positive. There’s backlash, but nothing of grave concern has landed on my doorstep. This makes me an anomaly. I’m grateful. Partly, though, that’s because it’s easy for people who dismiss this kind of commentary to ignore it. A post about issues that don’t affect them from someone a rung down the ladder, is not something they have to deal with. It’s not even background noise to take seriously. For a man, a list of grievances from a woman makes him a passerby. He… Read more »

[Note: This essay speaks largely to my personal experience as a white cisgender woman. I don’t wish to speak for the experiences of others here; I invite your experiences in comments.] [Trigger warning for quotations encouraging sexual assault and racist quotations.] I’m in ninth grade. I’m new to my school. I’m nervous about where to sit in the cafeteria, about what I’m wearing; my new school is bigger than my old one by some multiplier I’m not even sure of. Numbers transpose in my head something awful. I’m maybe most nervous about math class. I’m assigned a seat next to the wall in a row of three, with a boy on the outside aisle and an empty seat in between us. By now, I’ve already gotten enough shit from boys and men to suspect why the empty seat is there. I’m right. Starts with spitballs. (“Cut that shit out.”) Then slurs. (I ‘ve just turned fourteen; I have no ready response to the things he outlines should happen to my c***. I manage, “Drop dead.”)… Read more »