Thoughts on being a woman

“When a woman is assaulted, one of the first questions people ask is, Did you say no? This question assumes that the answer was always yes, and that it is her job to revoke the agreement. To defuse the bomb she was given. But why are they allowed to touch us until we physically fight them off? Why is the door open until we have to slam it shut?”
Chanel Miller

Every now and then I will see an update by someone online saying something along the lines of “Every single woman has as story about a man harassing her”. Generally someone (usually a man) will say “I don’t think every women” but the reality is we do all have a story. Some of us have many stories. They may not be stories of rape but they are stories of assault, harassment, intimidation and generally being made to feel unsafe just because we are women. WE ALL HAVE THEM! My friend Ansie used to say “It is the curse of the vagina.” It would also illicit a giggle but it is sadly the truth.

Once a week Jack and I go to the same coffee shop, it has become our refuge. A few months ago we were sitting outside next to a table of white, Afrikaans men who worked for one of the local security companies. There conversation turned to rather blatant homophobic, racist statements. Eventually we had to move, it was just too rough.

A big part of me wanted to say something. But I didn’t. Jack was with me and they were 4 men who were armed. I am not saying that if I had said anything they would have shot me but I knew, for sure, if I did say something it would not end well for me, as a woman. So I said nothing.

Today we walked in for our weekly recharge and these men were here again. My heart dropped. I instantly tensed up. I was tense until they left.

I hate that this is our reality as woman. And I think that is one of my triggers around the US elections. From what I can see/read/understand – there is a very clear shift to strip woman of their rights and I hate it. I hate that men (and largely white men) have been allowed to stomp all over everyone.

I hate that my daughters will also have their own stories to tell.
I hate that they will have to fight a little harder for their rights.
I hate that my oldest daughter has to carry pepper spray with her.

I hate that men’s collective ego’s are so fragile they can’t just let us co-exist with them equally.