When I was in Grade 3, I told a friend that I liked a boy in our class.
She immediately shouted it to everyone in the schoolyard, including the boy.He, embarrassed by the attention, immediately ran towards me and started kicking me so hard on my legs, my belly and my privates, that I had bruises for weeks and it hurt to pee.
When I was Grade 4, I started to develop breasts. I was called a bitch and a whore by a boy I liked.
The boys snapped our bra straps so hard it bruised our backs. When I was in Grade 5, I got my period.I was the first girl in my class.
One day, a pad fell out of my bag and a boy I liked saw it and I thought I would die of embarrassment when he made sure that everyone knew I got my period.
In Grade 6, I was called a slut and a whore by some girls that were older than me.
They would follow me home making sure I knew I was ugly and fat and a slut. A friend and I were playing in the park and a boy asked us if we knew what semen was.
In Grade 7 when all the girls and all the boys were coupling up in early, silly relationships, the boy I liked told my friend that I would be pretty if I didn't have acne. Later that summer, a boy from the neighbourhood, who was at least five years older than we were, asked my friend and I to run past him.When we looked puzzled, he explained it was so he could watch our boobs bounce.We said nothing and walked quickly home.
In high school, I was called a fat bitch at least once a month most often by boys who were nice to me sometime in the past. Later, a boyfriend broke up with me and made sure I knew it was because I wasn't pretty anymore.
When I was in university, I would listen quietly when male friends of mine would keep up a running commentary while they were watching women, their classmates and peers, walk by and discuss the various types of things they would like to do to this girl, or the next girl or not, because one girl was disgusting.
One day, I asked them to stop and they told me that it didn't mean anything and they were just trying to make each other laugh. They weren't sexist because they were joking. I told them that it was sexist and then I cried, in front of them, which invalidated my point because "I wasn't rational and overly emotional."We aren't friends anymore but I wonder if any of them have daughters and still think what they said was "funny."
When I moved to Victoria, elderly gentlemen always asked me to smile because "I was prettier when I smiled." One night, I was taking the city bus back from the ferry from an overnight trip to the mainland and I had a rolling suitcase with me. It was dark but not very late and I only lived eight blocks away from the downtown stop so I was walking home by myself, unafraid and rolling my suitcase behind me.
A man I did not know shouted obscenities at me and started to chase me down the street.I passed many people and no one offered to help. I ended up running from one lighted restaurant to the next, looking over my shoulder to judge how fast he was moving and whether or not I would have to crash into a diner to phone the police. Luckily, the man got bored and wandered away.
I am not itemizing the amount of times that I have been groped, felt-up, gawked at or verbally abused by men. It doesn't happen much these days and I'm grateful that my age and my weight have made me less of a target. But every single time that I choose to write about feminist issues, I am called horrible things by other men and women from the blank anonymity of the internet comment page.
I am writing about my own experiences with sexism and patriarchy, not because I hate men. I love men. I have a husband who I love dearly. I have an amazing son. I have a great father and a great brother.
I have cousins and uncles and friends of the family who are amazing people. Calling out sexism and patriarchy is not about hating men. It is about sharing the shit that happens every day to your mothers, daughters, nieces, wives and friends that has become normal.
The #webelievesurvivors campaign in the aftermath of the Jian Ghomeshi trial is not about the law.
We are not idiots. We understand the law and the burden of proof and innocent until proven guilty. We get that. This is about speaking up about the stupid, sexist crap that every single woman has experienced every day that is somehow normal. And, I'm speaking to both men and women here: this is about equality, not overthrowing the oppressive man.
Again, let me be clear, I understand that men and women are different, biologically, emotionally and psychologically (whether or not that is a cultural conditioning is a discussion for another day).I am talking about the little things that happen that we are all guilty of: fat shaming, mom blaming, double-standards and the like. Before we judge a woman or a man, we need to ask ourselves if we would say, or think or judge that person the same way if the genders were reversed.
That's all.
One little self-check before we judge each other so harshly. Ask the women in your life about the times that they've felt physically threatened, shamed or abused.
You may be surprised about the answer.
