I feel like I could break into a million tiny tiny pieces. But not in a bad way, in a good way. Because I know that there are people who would search the world for every piece to put me back together.
I feel like I should've been born in another era sometimes, but sometimes I think this one suits just fine.
Some men were really awful to me on the train today. Or about me. And then it really upset me that I'm so used to it because I realised that it happens far too often. So I feel like I need to state this blatantly in the hope that just one man might read it and think twice one day. Pointing at me, winking at me, openly discussing my breasts, pinching my arse when I walk past and looking my body up and down slowly many times is not flattering. It is demeaning. It is rude. It makes me feel like a piece of meat, a commodity with no value other than my hips. I can't do anything about the way I look and I hate that people I don't even know publicly define me by it on a regular basis. Just because I wear a dress does not mean I am prostitute. Because my top is cut lower than my neck does not mean that I appreciate your sleazy advances. No one should be able to make me feel ashamed of who I am, when I haven't done anything other than exist on a train somewhere, but those men did. They didn't even bother to hide their obvious discussion of me, as if they had every right to be belittling me because they are men, and they are powerful. You make me sick.
Rant over.
"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute."
-Rebecca West
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