support

A sad passenger

|

When I was in a high school, I was just a calm kid, not sporty at all and liked staying home. Because of that I was bullied by my peers, they called me not stylish, not modern, not beautiful. Only when we talked face to face to someone they behaved properly, but when they were in a group, they started laughing at me(cowards). And while I was talking to my classmate he said that it would be better for me to go away now as other guys are gonna come from the meeting and will start bullying me even more. “This is much easier to take a pain killer, instead of remove the problem”.-A sad passenger

Being the “bitch” at the ball game

|

I was watching my younger sisters baseball game. Her team is the 16U girls team which is also known as team British Columbia. Since baseball is not generally the most welcoming sport for girls as many people consider it a “boys” sport I was happy to see an entire team of girls all playing ball together. I was also proud to have parents in the crowd supporting the girls and I truly believed that all of the parents were feminists, especially because they all seem to believe that girls should have just as much opportunity in sports as boys. I still believe a lot of the parents feel this way but recently my positive spirits about this community were shifted due to a man in the stands comment on my vocal support towards the girls. Every time the girls start doing well or I feel that they need some encouragement I cheer words such as “let’s go girls you’ve got this”, “let’s show these boys what you can do”, “lets go *insert individual girls name*!” And today in the stands I said quietly to the parents “I really hope the girls beat the boys today, I think they should be beat because I think the girls are the stronger team and they can do it!” A man in the stands (from our own team!) quickly told me to shut up as he was shaking his head and I replied by saying “I’m never going to stop supporting the girls!” He then said “you’re such a little bitch” in a very harsh tone and then proceeded to tell me that no one wants to hear what I have to say. These comments hurt because this was coming from a community that I thought was sort of a safe haven for feminists, a place for women and men to support each other. I told him that by using misogyny to defend his own misogyny will never silence me supporting girls baseball! I then turned to some of the mothers and grandmothers in the stands looking for support but instead heard comments such as “I can’t believe she is bringing this up at a ballgame!” And I was told that my response to the man was wrong and was encouraged once again to stop speaking. During this time the man continued to call me a “bitch”. My mother stepped in telling him to never say that to a woman again. My mother’s support gave me the courage to share my story because I know there are women out there that will support me and share ideologies such as my own. Even if my comments were a little too “out there” I will never apologize for sharing my voice with the world and will never ever be silenced by such hate. Thank you Laura for making this absolutely phenomenal site and allowing me to share my story of being referred to as a “bitch” at the ballgame. I hope this story empowers other young girls to refuse to be silenced by men who don’t want to hear our voice.

Just once, mum

|

Today, I saw I had a new message request on FB. It was some babyfaced little prick, who had simply said “Fat bitch”, and apparently blocked me afterward as I was unable to view his profile. Like any reasonable person, I first tried to report the message. But for various idiotic reasons, the form wasn’t working no matter what I tried. After a while, I decided I’d revisit the report later. But then, I changed my mind. I was going to find this brat’s mother, father, anyone who gave a shit, and tell them what he got up to online. I’ve just spent two hours looking up this kid, including making a different Facebook account to check out his details. I know his town of birth, town of residence, high school, principal’s name, brother’s name, his favourite passtimes, even his favourite breed of dog and apparently the only angle he is able to take selfies from. I know. That was nuts. But I’m sure all of you can understand the compulsion to try and actually do something, when some kid thinks they’re such hot shit that they can come into your messages and ruin your day. What I’m posting about in particular is, when my mother came home and I explained what I’d been doing all day, she immediately went on the defense for this kid. Not once in my life has she ever taken my side when it comes to issues like this. Not when my now-ex’s older sister threatened to kill me, when she would glare at me endlessly whenever he was out of the room, and ended up giving me nightmares. Not when the single creepiest kid you could imagine wouldn’t leave me alone at school, and I was forced to change my identity online. Not when I was in primary school and was abandoned by my only friends at the time, who suddenly turned around and started bullying me as soon as a pretty boy started doing it. Not once. The only time she’s tried anything different was when I finally admitted to her I’d been raped. And even in the years since, she keeps trying to placate my anger with “reasonable” concessions. She tells me I can’t let the fear rule my life, as if I didn’t know that and hadn’t been fighting it for so long that I didn’t remember anything else. She tells me she’s here to support me, until I’m having a panic attack over something she thinks should be easy, and I can hear her getting more frustrated by the day. She tells me she does actually trust me to make adult decisions, until she tries to take away the only coping strategy that’s ever worked. I need some wine.

Lois

|

When i was 11 i fell out with all my friends and was crying on the way home from school, a boy from a few years above caught up with me and offered me a hug, i’m a tactile person and i was upset so i accepted then he kissed me and grabbed my bum, i threw him off and hit him with my bag then ran home and didn’t tell atone till i was 17, when i did tell people they either didn’t want to hear, ignored what i’d said or told me not to say it. i only had one friend out of ten believe me. this year I’ve been to university and after a while i told all my flat mates what happened, i almost cried when they believed me without question and dealt with it so well. whilst back home at new years i saw him in a club and whilst the two friends i was with were in the bathroom he backed me against the wall and told me i still looked pretty. when i told the friends i was with that i wanted to leave the club one of them got angry with me. i was so glad when i got back to uni and told my flat mates what had happened at new year that they were angry on my behalf, i finally feel supported but i can’t ever tell my family.

L N.Ireland

|

I once thought that the strong older women in one part of my family, who’s above average height and shoe size I shared, were the head of a confident matriarchy and that one day I would step into their above average shoes. Now as a 27 year old woman, and having become my grandmother’s primary carer as her mental health declines and her forgetfulness becomes dangerous, I realise that this matriarchy is actually the product of my family’s misogyny. The women ‘take charge’ because the men won’t. I don’t want to sound like a martyr, I am happy that I am in a position where I can support and help my grandmother – I don’t want a f*cking medal, but a little acknowledgement would make a world of difference. But they see that it’s just my ‘place’ to do all these things, my granny had two sons; my mum and dad are divorced, as are my uncle and his wife, I am the next oldest female – so of course it is my place to step up. When I told my great aunt that I was struggling between work and organising my grandmother’s permanent care, fixing her house so it’s safe and attending all her medical appointments with her and that I hadn’t even heard from my dad in weeks she told me that “Men are just different” “They don’t see the things we do” – ie they don’t have to do the things we do. They can do as they please without consequence; They can waste time money and relationships They can be unreliable, un-trying, uninterested because ‘that’s just how he is’ Yet they’ll still be praised! “Your father!” I hear on a weekly basis, the ‘matriarch’s’ aging eyes welling up with pride at the man who barely sees her “he’s so good” ‘To whom?’ I feel like asking, because I’m the one looking out for and after everyone, working full time in a successful job, paying a mortgage, trying my bloody hardest – but then that’s my place isn’t it? That career is only a placeholder until I grant my husband children, something to busy myself with…. My dad came to my house to ‘have a talk’ with me the other night, I thought that maybe he realised what I am doing, that I need help or at least that he should acknowledge the effort. But he wanted to talk about my brother and how he wanted him to get a job (he’s never had to) and a girlfriend (“so he’s not frustrated”!!). He said “I’d love to be able to say that ‘yeah, my son’s a bricklayer’ or ‘aye he’s doing well, he’s a gardener’ you know?!” I did know, but I didn’t know what to say. I guarantee you my dad couldn’t tell you what company I work for (despite it being one of the Big 4) or what my job is (I’ve been here 4 years) or even what my degree is in. He isnt proud of me, or if he is he’s never told me. It doesn’t matter how successful I am, how hardworking, how thoughtful and kind. One thing this whole heartbreak has done for me is make me appreciate the one reliable, honest and caring man I do know – my husband, i’m very lucky