The Year 2017 for this Woman and your Discomfort
To say this year was confusing as a woman is an understatement.
To say this year I did not lash out at men around me, some of them my family, close friends, or innocent bystanders, is an understatement.
To say this year I exposed my two young daughters to countless feminist content in the form of rants, books, podcasts, girl-power pep-talks, fashion advice, movies, is just true.
I’ve been scared to turn back ever since I started looking forward in the face of this blatantly sexist, misogynistic world we live in. I see this same fear in the eyes of my sister comrades. Wrapped up in that fear of letting small things slide, is the larger fear that our voices will continue to be misunderstood. Minimalized. Ignored. That I will continue to politely let it go. That I will always have to hunker down and watch my back when walking the streets at night. That I won’t properly stand up for myself or another woman when the moment demands.
What women have all been made aware of in 2017 is how much we have inadvertently done this. How much we politely smile and make others comfortable. I didn’t realize how much I did this. I don’t think I fully appreciated the cost.
The #metoo movement has been a reminder of the collective cost of women just trying to peacefully get on in a male-dominated world. We are all covering up for them. Some of us are no longer willing to be further implicated. Our daughters deserve better, but so do the current batch of living, breathing women.
Life is short. Social movements take time to be felt by people on the ground. And painfully, in 2017, we have become acutely aware of how fast it can all turn around. Many like me have become impatient given how long and winding the road to real gender equity is. Impatient but not hopeless because I believe deeply in social movements rooted in the power of the people. A sustained collective scream can actually move the needle. Just the scream in and of itself.
So yes, in 2017 there has been some slight collateral damage, some people caught in the massive net of my rage. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing. A drop in the bucket compared to what so many of us gave up. As a woman of color I gave up untold opportunities, was told no, was looked over, was underestimated, was diminished to a sexual body, was infantilized. And this is considered good fortune given what so many of my sisters endured. Don’t be confused, we have of course fought our way forward, endured, and often triumphed. But now, in order to start addressing the real aftermath of generations treating women as bodies, caretakers, and vessels we sometimes dole out discomfort. Not purposefully, perhaps not every day, but yes it will be there as a side effect of having to constantly highlight uncomfortable truths. I’m sorry, you may just have to adjust your current practices, make do, smile and get on with it. We can show you how. We’ve been doing it for a long time now.
