Courtney Marie Andrews
Let’s not ignore the comments of men sexual harassing women on the street…hey beautiful. You’re sexy. What’s your name? Hmmm…I’d love to rape that ass…. Eyeing with lust as a women walks by. I might pretend I don’t see you and pretend you don’t exist. I’ve become so good at it most of the time I probably don’t see you checking me out. I’ve block it from my attention and chosen to focus on something else, even still my body tenses as I walk past groups of men. I’m not afraid of men; It’s I hate when they decide to say something stupid, inappropriate, and disrespectful and that I don’t know how to respond. Ignoring the comments has lead to me feeling as if I’m disrespecting myself by not speaking out. Years angry at men, not knowing the best way to combat the constant harassment. I hate it so much it’s affected my relationships with men, how I view them, how I think they view me, and how I interact with them. The times I do feel eyes lurking over or comments said as I walk past make me feel disgusting, a commodity only good for my body, and ugly inside/out. Makes me question the integrity of men as a whole. They might not have meant to have this result, but they did.
Its a constant reminded to use your voice - there is a reason why you have one. It’s time to let it go. Forgive the countless nameless, faceless men that have sexual harassed me. Use my voice, look them up and down while saying, “disgusting” Or tell them their comments disrespectful and you will report them for harassment. Then do. The police will probably not do anything, but report them anyways. Forgiving doesn’t mean staying quiet. Maybe he’s never heard a woman say, Stop. That’s disrespectful towards his actions. Baby steps to the other side of the mountain where women are no longer harassed, assaulted, or abused. One comment at time, one voice. It might not happen every time, but slowly building into the muscle memory to stand up for yourself change will come. It might be ignorant to think by saying something a movement might start. But there’s nothing to lose except anger.
Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Hass
Baby girl, you are loved. You are beautiful. You are beautiful because God created you. From the outside & the inside. From your imperfections from every pimple and wrinkle on your face, from every hair that can grow a mustache and beard. When you allow it God’s love shines through.
Note to self: if you rearrange LISTEN it will spell SILENT
From a very young age, my parents taught me to use my manners.
“Yes ma’am” when telling my Aunt that I was enjoying school,
“No, sir” when asked if I was getting into any trouble.
But I was never taught “please” only “thank you” because my mother taught me that “a lady never asks for anything, she never speaks up for her wishes - she just waits until she is given a gift. And remember, dear, a lady never says no to a kind man.”
So as the years go by, I never asked my older brother to pass the peas or to give me another serving of mashed potatoes and I have grown to be a very petite lady. I never asked for anything at Christmas and my Birthday was filled with old sweaters my great aunts made, that were always one size too small. I grew accustomed to being quiet, to being submissive,
to being a lady.
the first time I fell in love, it was with a boy who let me borrow his pen in my college junior psychology class.
He took me out for drinks afterwards and when he asked if I wanted to tour his apartment, I could not decline, because “a lady never says no to a kind man” and when he started unzipping my dress and tracing his hands along my hips, my lips were sealed shut, because “a lady never says no to a kind man” and I surely did not ask for anything and I did not feel this was a gift, but I am a lady,
and my mother taught me that ladies never say no.
I have now graduated from college and live on my own. In my spare time I stand in front of my mirror and remember where he touched me and I teach myself how to say no.
Last week, the neighbors called the cops because they heard loud screams, and when the police knocked on my doors, I told them someone had stolen my voice and I was just now getting it back. They went away and said, “Have a nice day, young lady” and I spent three days trying to convince myself they did not mean to call me a lady, that they did not mean to take my voice again.
Alaska’s equivalent of black friday lines? snow tires!