Stop Slut Shaming!

STOP SLUT SHAMING!

is a social commentary written by Seivi Katro

 

 

Maybe this little blurb will not solve anything. Maybe it will just make some roll their eyes, and others mad. But if one, just one, young woman reads this and realizes that her internalized misogyny can be unlearned, that she does not have to hate other women to succeed in life, then my piece has accomplished its goal. I did not write this to be shady. It has written itself out of the pain and disappointment of seeing bright young women all over my social media (and real life) tear each other apart over ideals they were taught they should want. Maybe they did not even realize they were doing it, but it’s time we’ve been teaching each other since there is no bigger strength in today’s reality than the support of other women.b
How old were you the first time you heard the world bitch? How long did it take you to connect that word – that your father and his friends threw around – to whore? How many times did you use it in your head, practicing it for when you saw the one that would fit it properly? Did you ever meet her? Or did she taunt you from the reflection of every shop window you passed. So you kept playing tag with other women you saw on the street.
They’re it now.

Was it your mother who taught you how to pronounce bitch? Without her even meaning to it, she taught you what a slut was. Over coffee and biscuits with other women told you what not to be; you could not be loud and attract their attention, you could not wear that mini-skirt with those heels, you could not wear eyeliner, you should not do anything that made your existence known. So you said you did not want their attention. You did not want to be noticed even though your hair shone in the sunlight like it was dripping with honey, and your breasts gave a new shape to every shirt you wore. You heard your mother’s voice echoing every time you dared to exchange a look with them.

The good girls do not do the crap.

Or was it your classmates who taught you? Those who got their periods too soon and sprung into womenhood like it was a meadow in the middle of spring. Did you resent them because they held a key to a new life, or did you hate yourself when your own underwear bloomed with burgundy spots? Did you think of those small drops the first time you let someone in. Was the color the same? Was the pain? Or was it a different punishment this time? Did your cheeks flush with that same blood as you washed your sheets by hand, not daring to leave a trace of your shame?

Who taught you how to hate yourself? So much that everything you do turns into a comparison? Why are your sisters your enemies? Why do you see their bodies as a statue you must tear down? Why do your souls make yours tremble and darken? Why do not their light guide you toward peace? Why does it matter how many men they knew, if you knew none of them? Why does it burden you what goes on between their sheets? Do you think you will keep a man that way?
What do you think will dry your tears once he leaves you for another “hoe”?

Do you think the guy who asked you if you know how to make pie gives you a fuck about you?

 

By: http://www.femratmagazine.com

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