Keyboard Warrior

I’ve been a part of some really great and really bad posts online this week ranging from a bar owner’s reasons for banning a regular and men telling women their selfies are not good enough.

Disclaimer, you might not care about how someday the little things end up being the big things, or how sexist jokes made in good faith can influence social inequality, or how bigotry rhetoric as casual conversation can make us sound even more uneducated than we are, or how much more money men make than women, or misogyny, or gender abiding roles, or being a woman and not supporting Hillary Clinton, or the plight of “matriarchy,” or trying to put an end to women being the butts of men’s jokes, or Indiana’s abortion laws, or the sisterhood, or undoing what society deems entertaining, or making sense of women feeling empowered by their sexuality or the conundrum it warrants between power and worth, but I do.

I care a lot about a lot.

And if I had the choice to care less, I would still care just as much.

Today, I woke up on a couch in Wisconsin. I snoozed my alarm until 8:05, gave into the ritualistic scroll through my trivial feed and was greeted with an acquaintance’s shared memory on Facebook: a fond memory by Stojan Ozegovic, where he told a girl her selfies were not good enough, in fact they “all looked the same,” she bit back and he couldn’t help himself from seeking validation or justification on the matter (I think the same kind said girl finds from said selfies).

Warning: shinfo ahead.

I responded to a comment that read, “Oh well at least she has boobs to fall front on.”

I responded to another comment, “Bitches be crazy bro, I have no problem telling them how it is. Zero fucks given, that’s how it should be.”

And, “Your need attention and likes to feel secure and good about yourself. Half the time they’re like a 5.5–6, and it’s like you’re not even attractive, please stoppp! Lol.”

And, “Boobs are wonderful by the way. I have a set. Highly recommend them as they improve any outfit you’re wearing instantaneously! Oh wait, how misogynistic of me!” by a super hardcore feminist bitch (her very own self-description).

Oh, and, “Wow the Keyboard Warrior doesn’t like nicknames. Or make logical arguments. Typical woman!” by said feminist.

You can tell me to get over it. You can tell me to get the fuck out. You can tell me to stop because I was a bully, and they are just trolls. You can continue calling me names like a “keyboard warrior.” But you can’t stop me from caring about ignorant, white men making bad jokes about women’s bodies or thinking they have the right to comment at all. In fact, I told said acquaintance, I simply thought it was unnecessary to have cared enough to share this post a second time.

Because I don’t think a man has any business telling women shit about their bodies, their appearance, their web persona, what they post or how they feel afterwards, I was electronically attacked by many men. Social inequality is actually a real problem in the real world when real men make real laws making real women feel really inferior and really disrespected. That sucks!

So, I will ask a third time, would I have been treated with such child’s play and ignorance if I were a man that disagreed? Would I have been granted an open conversation as I hoped? I don’t think so.

Sure, Steph, it’s Facebook. Why waste your time? After hours of bickering and instigating and being accused of being unglued, they all told me to move on or unfollow or ignore it. Why couldn’t Mr. Ozegovic have ignored, unfollowed or moved on from the woman in the first place, avoiding all of this?

Sounds to me like a double standard.

No dude could even fathom a woman piping up and shutting down straight up garbage.

And if you don’t think such double standards exist in the workplace, in the home or on the web, think the fuck again.

You think you’ve upset me, kids? Ha. My uterus is currently three times its size, shedding layers of tissue and falling out of my vagina in the form of a bloodbath as I type this. You choose to make your jokes; your daughters will continue to fight my and every woman’s fight until you see those jokes are not funny.

I ride my bike to work? I step out of the house in a low cut top? I ask a higher salary? I sleep in a messy bedroom or drive a dirty car? I leave the house or bar alone? I ignore somebody cat calling me? I decide to terminate my pregnancy? I stand up for women who have been oppressed for centuries? I stop shaving my legs?

You’re right, I am a fucking warrior and so is every woman alive. Even you, said feminist girlfriend who had to disagree with me to save face and feel included and supported by her boyfriend and all his friends who repeatedly and maliciously treated me like dirt, who all waited, waited and waited for me to start crying real, hot tears over internet trolling.

Uh, uh, boys, sor.

Today, I cried for nothing. Yesterday, I cried for nothing. Friday, I cried for nothing, even though I wanted to for taking another serving job because being a photojournalist with a degree and integrity and passion and student loans and awards and good work and honest ethic does not guarantee a job.

I have no interest giving you the satisfaction, defeat or drop of water from my being. I have bigger fish to fry and real demons to battle daily.

On my way out, I’m gonna leave this here. The brighter side to my week on the Facebook. A man, a thought, a problem and solution that you can read more about here. If you made it this far, keep going. The fight is far from over.

Thanks for listening...or reading I guess.

“Sometimes the dudes get so worked up that they demand to see a manager, and I get called in to speak with them. Every single fucking time they attempt to appeal to me solely because I’m a man. They try to weasel in with me about how the women are asking for it. That women shouldn’t dress that way if they don’t want to be stared at. They attempt to explain it away as just “dudes being dudes.” It’s expected for men to stare at women’s breasts and make jokes about how much they want to fuck them. Wink Wink. Of course you’ll understand they think, because you also have a dick. What terrifies and enrages me is how every one of them thinks that this is normal behavior, but also that other men will agree with them.

Men, we often don’t see the level of filth that our friends, sisters, and mothers go through every day. We hope to surround ourselves with people who would never treat a woman like that. We live in a safe little bubble. But the reality of this thing? It’s an insidious disease that’s happening every single day, several times a day and it turns my fucking stomach.

So why am I writing this? I want to acknowledge the struggle of every single woman who will read this. You deserve our respect and to be treated with decency. I want to stand up and say, I’m fucking sick of this. To every dude out there, we need to fucking combat this disease like its the god damned plague that it is. If one of your friends says something shitty about a woman, tell him to shut his fucking mouth. Don’t just laugh it off or ignore it. We need to listen when our sisters talk about this, and not just blame it on some bad apples. Not just say “not all dudes do that” or “well no one I know would ever do that.” Nah man. This is an endemic cultural problem. If we want to start taking our status as gentlemen seriously we need to do more than just avoiding being a sexist prick ourselves. We need to open our eyes and fight it everywhere we see it, because the only way this thing gets better is to start calling it out for what it is.”

Sexism.