If you ask my parents, they would tell you that I’ve always had a voice, that since I learned how to talk, I haven’t stopped, sometimes even in my sleep. The trouble is finding something worthwhile to say, something that will make people really listen.
I’ve grown up in a largely matriarchal family. Even as a child I was never made to feel as if what I had to say didn’t matter. Fast forward to my senior year of high school. My senior project was “Women’s Advancements in American Society in the Last Century.” In all of my research, I’d been opened up to a new reality. I declared myself a feminist.
My roommate freshman year of college was an openly vocal, red-lipped, shining example of the modern feminist. I wanted desperately to be as outspoken as her. I admired her spirit, backbone and all around bad-assness. I hope a little of her has rubbed off on me.
And so, fast forward again to about a week ago. Thanks to another college friend, I happened upon an article entitled “5 Reasons Why Girls With Tattoos and Piercings Are Broken.”
Usually when I read these kinds of articles I click out, rant to my roommates for the rest of the day and pray at night for strength to dismantle the evils within the patriarchy (which I very deeply believe exist, despite my ex-boyfriends objections that “the patriarchy” is imaginary.. collective eye roll, please). Anyhow, this time was different. I scrolled down to the comments where other women had defended their body art only to be met with the ever-creative “slut” taunts. And as my cursor hovered over the x, I saw a response that made my inner basic say “Oh my God, I literally cannot even.”
“This is why I’m glad that rape exists,” said the commenter.
So I made an account. I commented in defense and praise of others who raised an opposition to these chauvinist bullies, and was of course met with the same name-calling and threats. However, I was also met with encouragement and solidarity from other commenters and Facebook friends when I shared the link. It made me realize that when I speak (or type) others are listening. To me, that’s a pretty powerful feeling.
But you know what? If someone wants to call me a name behind the privacy of their computer screen, that is their freedom of speech. My family, friends and all of you wonderful ladies (and gentlemen, if you’re reading) are what I care about. We support each other. We hold each other up when others try to pull us down. I’ve found my voice and I hope that when you read this, I help you to find yours, even a little bit.
And to 196-b, every time I put on my red lipstick, I think of you and I find a little bit more courage. Thank you.
