I Am Not Prey.
I Am Not Prey.
The definition of Prey from dictionary.com is:
- (n) an animal hunted or seized for food, especially by a carnivorous animal.
- (n) a person or thing that is the victim of an enemy, a swindler, a disease,etc.
I am not Prey.
I am a female but most of all, I am a human. A person with a brain, goals, family, friends, my own business, successes, failures, values, faith, high intelligence and so much more.
I am not Prey.
What do I mean by this?
I was recently told I was Prey. Yep. I was told I need to watch my back. I was told I stand out. I don’t look like I belong here. I needed to be careful.
I was told I was an animal used for food. Seriously? That did not sit well.
Why did they say I was Prey? Because I am a very petite blond haired-blue eyed girl living in the Fort Lauderdale/Miami area. That is it. Their whole reasoning.
Not the way I dress or the way I act. Not because of what I say or do. But because of the color of my hair and eyes. As if I am vulnerable or less than other people because of the way I look. My genetics apparently control other peoples thoughts and actions.
Wow. I’m powerful right? I have control over other people because of genetics I don’t have a say in.
And to think people say sexual assault and rape has to do with alcohol, dressing and acting slutty, etc. People say females are responsible. I am not responsible for anyone’s actions or thoughts except my own.
I am not a toy, an object, an animal or meat. I am a human. Just like every other person out there.
Yet I was told I was Prey because of my hair and eye color.
Does anyone not see something wrong with this? I certainly do. I’m a young, petite blond haired, blue eyed girl from small town Vermont. I was raised on a dairy farm. But that shouldn’t matter. I blended in there. People didn’t yell obscene things at me or hit on me or honk their horns at me. I didn’t have to watch my back. Didn’t lock my doors at night. I was ‘normal’, I was human. I was respected. I was amazing at what I did and told I would do great things.
I had and still have VALUE.
But here in the greater Miami area I stick out. I’m not a supermodel by any means. I don’t have issues with the way I look, I believe I am fairly typical looking. But apparently not here. Apparently I stick out.
Apparently I’m seen as Prey.
They say it’s my vibes. Innocent. Honest. Kind. Trustworthy. Apparently that makes me Prey too. Being a good person is a bad thing?
People blame females for dressing and acting slutty. For drinking too much and leading someone one. But that’s just an excuse for a bigger, more underlying problem with our society.
Something is wrong in a world where men aren’t told to change, where men aren’t taught to respect women, where women are seen as Prey and that is okay.
And this person was not even wrong. I can’t walk anywhere by my office without having some random creepy dude yell obnoxious things, honk at me, tell me disturbing things. I have been offered rides, asked where I was going, proposed to. I’ve had guys try to grab at me. All by completely random guys of all ages and races while walking to or from my office in broad daylight.
Since I moved down here I’ve wondered what makes people think it’s okay to talk to me this way. To try and touch me. To think they are more powerful then me. To think they have the right to me. To think that I want any of this. I don’t. I hate it. I hate the attention. I don’t dress or ask for it. It makes me livid, disgusted.
No respect for me. Me. A 24 year old business owner, and COO of my own company. Someone who has brains. Equity in 6 real estate investment properties. Someone who has a loving family 1500 miles away that they left to have more opportunity to one day give a better life to her hardworking parents. Someone who has values and respects them-self. Someone who is a former teacher, looking to change the lives of not just children, but eventually everyone. I am building a business, sacrificing sleep, living on a tight budget so that one day I can change the world.
But that doesn’t matter to these people. They see me as meat. As Prey. It needs to end.
I’m sure this will give my mom a heart attack, as if my parents aren’t already worried about me living 1500 miles away in a large city as it is. Don’t worry mom and dad, I’ve got this.
Growing up on a farm with parents and grandparents who valued and respected females, I was raised me as a strong, confident, independent female. And it pisses me off the way men view and treat women. The way women allow and invite it. And I know this isn’t just a one way street, I know it happens to men too. It shouldn’t happen to anyone. We are all humans. We all have a story. We all have a purpose. We all have value.
And being the strong, confident, independent woman I am, I have to say something. I have to say…
I am not prey.
Don’t ever try to blame me for someone else’s thoughts or actions, they are theirs and not mine. Just as I am the Sole person responsible for my thoughts and actions.
Don’t ever confuse my size or hair and eye color or northern personality as a weakness. Because it’s not. It’s a powerful weapon. I am brilliant. I am smart. I can handle myself. I am not afraid. I demand respect. I refuse to see myself as a victim or as Prey.