Continued from last week.
One of the worst for me was a man I
dated and planned to marry after we’d gone through our church mandated pre –
engagement counseling. IN essence, he’s the perfect example of why so many
women are frustrated.
When we dated, he controlled a lot
of our relationship. For instance, he didn’t like me to wear jeans, even though
I find them to be comfortable and practical. If my hair was too short, he
pouted at me. Worse than that though, was his refusal to listen to me when I
expressed my needs or desires.
For example, if I needed a new
purse he’d buy me one, but it had to fit his
idea of what my purse should be. If I
found one I liked, he’d insist I hand to it him for inspection. He was paying
for it so I didn’t feel that I could or should argue. If it didn’t have enough
pockets to be “organized,” he’d insist I put it back.
When we went engagement ring
shopping, we saw a lovely ring with a round solitaire stone that had a gold
leaf extending out one side to cover the wedding band. I tried to tell him that
although it was a lovely ring, it didn’t fit my sense of style. He insisted
that it was the perfect ring because when I married him, I’d be “turning over a
new leaf” in my life. I think now that if we’d married, I’d have either tried
to find a way to lose the ring or at least lose the leaf. The stone wasn’t what
I wanted either.
There was also his habit of
reaching over to tickle my butt in public. When I objected, he’d remind me that
I laughed. Well, yes, I did. It’s a natural reaction to being tickled. That
still didn’t mean I wanted him tickling my butt in public.
The worst part for me was that
everyone around us thought he was so perfect for me. I couldn’t convince anyone
otherwise.
We didn’t become sexually involved
till after I moved into my own apartment for the first time. Unfortunately, he
wasn’t the most considerate of lovers. I’m sure he didn’t know how, but I also
didn’t feel like he’d listen to me if I tried to tell him how to please me. I
got proof of that one night.
The mattress on our bed had a
tendency to shift to one side during sex. I have no idea why. One night it
shifted so far that I was seriously afraid we’d roll off the bed and into the
dresser not more than two feet away. When I informed him our precarious
position, his response was to tell me he was almost there and could I hang in
there a little longer?
What the hell? I was seriously
scared that if we rolled off the bed we’d have to go to the hospital, which
would mean explaining to the church and my family what we’d been doing.
Then there was the time I was
living back at my mother’s house after a live in job that hadn’t worked out. We
were having sex in the bedroom I shared with another woman who wasn’t home at the
time. My mother’s dogs started barking like crazy about something. I told him I
thought we should get dressed and check on the dogs as I was worried they’d
wake my mother’s husband who worked nights and slept days. He said they’d be
fine. The next thing we knew my mother’s husband nearly walked in on us.
Thankfully he had the presence of mind to get up and hold the door closed.
I could go on about his lack of listening
to me in situations where it really mattered, but I won’t. He’s also not the
only one to treat me that way.
My son’s father once complained
because I was too tired to have sex with him. He said, “I always have energy
for you.”
I looked at him and thought, “yeah,
but you’re not in the later stages of pregnancy in the summer heat!”
The last guy I dated once made me
feel guilty because I didn’t want to have sex with him one night. I’d had a
rough day. I’d woken up with a headache, but had sex with him that morning in
hopes that it would help me too. It didn’t. On top of that, I had to drive
several miles to pick up my then young son, then drive several miles back to
his apartment to be with him that night. Then when I didn’t want to have sex
with him that night, he got out of bed and went over to his computer while I
cried quietly.
He did apologize the next morning.
He told me that he’d realized that I’d given what I had to give that morning.
So, it’s no wonder to me that women
are still screaming about women’s rights. It’s no wonder to me that the signs
have gotten so graphic. Women are angry. We feel like we’re not being listened
to no matter how we speak.
I used to talk loudly to be heard
or repeat myself a lot because I often knew I wasn’t being listened to. Over
the last 15 years or so my voice has gotten quieter because I knew my roommate
was truly listening to me. Now I need to
talk loudly again; possibly even scream. Only this time, it’s not just for me.
It’s for all women who feel their voices aren’t heard by the very people who
should be listening to them.
For too long we’ve been treated as
if what we need, as if our comfort level is second to everyone else’s. The result
is that too many of us can’t even do self-care beyond basic hygiene because we’re
made to feel guilty if we try to do something purely for ourselves. It’s past time
for that attitude to stop. It’s past time for women to feel free to take time
to themselves while their men take on their normal jobs. Its past time for the attitude
that “boys will be boys” is gone. Its past time for the idea that women who are
raped or assaulted either brought it on themselves or that they’re crazy. Or
worse yet, not believed because the man involved is a “good” man or holds power
over someone.
We need to find our voices and keep
talking till we get what we need. Till we’re no longer treated as if we’re a
bitch for asking for what a man in the same position would be given. Till we’re
treated as if what we need matters and that we’re not wrong for trying to take
care of ourselves before we drop from exhaustion or lose our minds because we can
no longer do everything that’s expected of us without a break.
I didn’t join in this year’s women’s
march as I didn’t understand the fight we still face. Now that I do, I will
consider joining in next year’s march. I may even make and wear a pink vagina
hat.
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