Queer Reading (of) Whatever

hellogorey:

In a humanities class, once upon a time, we were told to write on paper the biggest insults you could possibly call a man.

pussy
bitch
girl
pansy

^ These were among the top 5 responses.
“Now what do these words have in common?” the professor asked of us.
“They pertain to females,” one student answered.
“Very good. And why do you think these very gender-specific names would be so caustic to a man?”
“Because women are considered lesser than men,” the student eventually responds. A part of me wants to vomit, break a wall. Break a face. Set fire to a building.

I feel males (and very easily a LOT of females) have decided women are incapable of being hard. Or not allowed to. Like there has to be some catastrophic event to allow a hard repercussion. Sometimes when a girl/woman/what-have-you is being hard, (this is often the case when I come across hostile female strangers) it’s because she is sick and tired of being bullied. It’s a reaction. A way to get across to someone so people don’t trample her and she can get shit done.

In modern-day American society, women tend to make a choice: cutesy, loveable baby or evil dura mater (Latin “tough mother”), who, well, gets shit done.

Yes, I understand name-calling is an immediate reaction to intimidation. But just because we’re intimidating, you are not suddenly given the authority to demean us based on whether we were born with girl-parts or not.

Don’t call us bitches. It’s wrong.

Me or any other female. And girls, it’s not being sensitive, it’s knowing the difference between right and wrong and standing up for it. Do you honestly know what you’re saying by calling another human being a bitch?: “Not only are you a dog, but you’re a female dog. You are the lowest form of low.”

Nuh-uh. Not on my watch. This is abusive. And ignorant. And shows what a sad, pathetic, diction-less critter you are.

Don’t call us cunts. Don’t call us whores. Don’t call us sluts. Call me Danielle because that is my name, and as your co-worker, you respect me. Give my fellow co-workers the same respect.

And if I ever hear the C-word out of a man’s mouth again, I am walking directly to Human Resources and getting your ass fired. I don’t care if you’re my friend. I don’t care if you’re good at what you do. It’s an immediate threat and I am not going to lower my standards as a human being. That’s just how I roll. 

Tell it like it is. And seriously, folks, these are not words to just throw around like they are the equivalent to “sister” or “friend” or “woman” (except in certain bedroom situations where there is consent by all parties involved). They are too heavily laden with misogynistic history to pretend they are easily reclaimed.