Imagine that grown, creepy men have been trying to fuck you since you were ten years old. Imagine one of them did, and when you told people, no one believed you.
Imagine agonizing over what to wear before you leave the house because you know you’ll be judged for whatever choice you make.
Imagine that everywhere you go, leering eyeballs are glued to your body, sending signals of unimaginable perversion to the porn-charged brains behind them. Imagine some of the owners of those eyeballs not knowing how to be cool and opting for a lingering lascivious gaze instead of a discreet glance.
Imagine knowing that someone is talking to you for the sole purpose of trying to get in your pants. You don’t want anything to do with that person, and in their eyes that makes you a stuck-up bitch.
Imagine that you find someone who you do want to let in your pants–congratulations: now you’re a slut.
You can’t win. You’re either too fat, or too skinny, and they’ll let you know which. If you’re not an absolutely perfect specimen of what society expects of you physically, you’re assigned a lower number on a ten-point ratings system. That’s all you are now–you’re a two. You’re the discounted meat at the grocery store with a yellow markdown sticker stained with dried blood. You’ll never be Filet Mignon. Pride in yourself? Fuck you, fat bitch. Go on a diet.
Imagine that no one takes you seriously when you speak your mind because they automatically assume you’re intellectually inferior to them. Your mouth is for sucking dicks. You have nothing else of importance to offer.
Imagine that you’re raped, and instead of blaming the rapist, they ask what you were wearing or doing to provoke the attack. Imagine them not only disbelieving you, but casting aspersions on your character because you must be making it up. Where’s the proof?
Imagine speaking out about these things, but also being a sexual person. I thought you didn’t like sex! Hypocrite!
Imagine being patronized and lectured like a child by stupid guys who think they’re smart. Imagine that happening everywhere you go.
Imagine reading this, relating to it, and then witnessing one of the guys described in the previous paragraph getting angry and calling it all bullshit. Imagine equating just hearing about someone else’s problem with being just as burdensome as going through it oneself. Imagine someone telling you that the feelings and experiences you struggle with on a daily basis aren’t valid because they aren’t part of that person’s daily feelings and experiences. Imagine that person feeling persecuted because you won’t just shut up about it already.
See, I strive to understand these things. I put myself in the shoes of others, and that’s why I’m a great writer. I admit that I don’t understand everything, but I try to. If you’re a writer and don’t try to view life from other people’s perspectives so that you can create realistic characters, let me know in the comments, so I’ll know to avoid reading your work. You know, because it’s probably bullshit.
Stay tuned for Vol 4.