International Women’s Day is my most despised event. In my opinion, it’s even worse than Valentine’s. Although it should be the celebration of women, it’s a complete opposite to me. It is a reminder that I am worse.
In my dictionary of stereotypes, a woman is someone less. Someone who will never reach the status of men, someone who should stay at home, cook, and laundry. And make her husband happy. Someone who should be pretty rather than intelligent, acting to make the men comfortable as the alpha males.
Is it wrong? Yes. Is it changing in the world? Hell no.
Even with the awareness and slow steps to reach better acting towards women, the world still sticks with its idea for us. There’s no restarting the history of punishment and humiliation of those with a vagina. Even worse, this history continues and it’s not just in “strange countries without civilization”. I look at it every single day.
I was born with, what I call, a male brain. It does exist and I do adore that your brain’s sex is not necessarily yours – physically speaking. Does it matter? No, it does not. I’ve been closer to a boy’s mindset my whole life. Sadly, if you’re a girl in kindergarten – you stick with girls because apparently there’s a line. The line that is made by our society, our parents so we obey this and pass on. Maybe now a bit less but our children keep on learning from the stereotype that it’s the mom who cleans the house. It is an actual thought of my friend’s 10-year-old daughter.
My mother wanted me to become a princess my whole life. And I always saw myself rather as a knight who kicks ass. Still, she was continuously proving to me that I’m a girl and I should stick to it. Only later I discovered I don’t have to do it and I stopped trying. But she buys me all sorts of cosmetics every Christmas and hopes I will eventually use them anyway (spoiler, I never did).
The same comes in my field of work. Even though I consider my colleagues intelligent and friendly and I do love working with them, the idea I am a woman still roams here and there. I’m not physically a man so I am a woman, it’s clear as that. It has never been for me because I’ve been struggling with that my whole life. My definition of a woman consists of what I’m not rather than I am. And here comes all the gender theory which makes things even worse.
Because in this age of enlightenment, there’s clearly hatred for everything different, too. Too many people think that if you’re a girl, you’re less but if you’re a trans, you’re even lesser. Fun, isn’t it? If I ever replaced my genitals, I wouldn’t become a man as they go. I will never be 100% accepted as them. It won’t make much difference to the outside world. I was a girl, now I’m not. I’m not a boy, I’m a freak.
And this is why I’m never doing it.
Because I don’t fucking care what I have in my pants. I don’t care what kind of hormones run in my body or whether my chromosomes are both Xs or not. This is not my concern. I don’t care if I’m a woman. I care not to be treated as one.
Even though I try to understand the people against (or not completely for) gender theory and LGBTQ+, I hate gender labels, especially thrown at myself. I am human and this is the only label I’m agreeing to. When someone points me as a woman, I get frustrated a bit. I ain’t that. I know it’s not easy to understand but please, don’t treat me like a woman. Please, shake my hand. Please, do not open the door for me. Please, let me fix this shelf.
Every environment I’m in, I need to tell people that. And that’s fine, after all, it’s unusual. The problematic part is the surprise and the questions that always follow. Why are you like this? Why can’t you just accept this damn Woman’s Day gift? Why can’t you just obey the rules of society?
Because fuck you, that’s why. I was basically fired because of my hate toward Woman’s Day last year (among other reasons). I am not the obeying kind. Rather a rebellious piece of shit that you either accept or you don’t. And it seems there are people that actually do.
The world has never been a binary. There’re way more ways than just two. The philosophies can be endless, even if it’s just a small detail to it. And we do need them to be spread, so people can understand one another.
And ending this with the pop culture reference this blog is devoted for – we can’t have only one fighting badass woman to look up to. We can’t have only one character type. Diana Prince can be fierce but after the fighting, she’s all about kindness and love. We need more girls who are good but not follow this rule in our culture. We need more Carol Danvers who is bitchy but at the end of the day she does the right thing. People don’t like her? Well, no wonder, there wasn’t such a protagonist in mass culture. Or wait, there were. But they were all men.
Boys cry and girls masturbate. Deal with it.