By Natalie • 11 years ago

This One’s For You, Sis

SYTYCB
A SYTYCB Entry:

There’s been so much talk lately about us ladies. Politics, especially, has been sticking their noses where they neither belong nor were invited to visit. Conservatives, specifically, waved their banner about the sanctity of life in a shame parade directly into our vaginas. We’re now debating, of all things, birth control. Again. My mom fought for birth control, and frankly, she and I are pissed that we have to do it all over again. I’ve signed every petition pushed at me, talked the ears off of everyone I know about this, tried to convince every woman I come into contact with to, please, please vote. I’ve read every article from every woman-hating politician likening rape to a change in the weather. I’ve listened to an eloquent pop culture icon debate the legality of same-sex marriage with a man whose faith is rooted, not in being a good person, but in being right. I’ve watched Republican men come to the defense of a man whose indiscretion was so monumental that I was forced to relive the worst experience of my life to try to make him see. Make him understand. I’ve been so royally angry, so hurt, so disheartened by these recent events, that now, as they continue to unfold, I can’t seem to find the energy to be surprised anymore. I’m too drained to be outraged. Oh, another man has debated the right I have to my own bodily autonomy? I just shrug my shoulders. Just another day in the life.

Right now, I feel like Blazing Saddles’ Lili Von Schtupp. I’m tired. I can hardly do it anymore. Every day there’s a new article, a new statement, a new pain right in my ass. The only thing that can get me riled up anymore is not the threat to my freedom, my future, but my sister’s.

My sister is eleven years old now. She’ll be starting middle school in the fall. She loves to read, dance, shoot pellet guns and arrows, swim, and a whole other mess of things. She’s afraid of starting middle school, having her period for the first time, and sharks. But I’m afraid for her.

I worry at night about the challenges she’ll face just because she’s a girl, not because I think she can’t overcome them, but because she has the same burning hatred for injustice that I do. I always tell people that she’ll either be the first woman president of the United States or an axe-murderer. She has that kind of will, that passion. It’s inspiring, and I think if I were any more proud of her, I’d explode out of sheer force of emotion. But our society will never reward her for her willfulness. For her fortitude, she’ll always be counted out. Others will fear her confidence, because women are always supposed to be ladies first and anything else second.

I wish I could explain all this to her without breaking her spirit. I think anyone who reads this will understand that feeling, that painful jolt that lets you know you’ve just been wronged, not for anything you’ve done, but because you are female. It’s in every look of doubt when you announce your life plans. It’s in every “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” These condescending remarks cut to the bone and I just never wanted Cassie to have to experience that. Unfortunately, the way times are, it seems Cassie will have to take up her indomitable will like a battleax alongside my mother and I, and fight back. To do anything else just enables everyone who says we can’t, we won’t, we shouldn’t, and Cassie and I will never let that happen.

Disclaimer: This post was written by a Feministing Community user and does not necessarily reflect the views of any Feministing columnist, editor, or executive director.

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