Ten Women I Have Been Warned Against Becoming:
1. The Girl Who Takes Up Too Much Space, always, her shoulders too wide in stairwells, her hips too big in doorways, her voice too loud in classes. This woman does not understand the art of crumbling, of curling herself tight like the spiral of a fern, soft, delicate, unwilling to reach out the ivy of her fingers to grasp onto what should rightfully be hers. This is a beast, an elephant, a moving mountain and she is capable of flattening you, she is capable of ruining you, she is capable of making you feel as small and insignificant in her life as she is supposed to be. You are this woman’s footnote to history, you are her side note in song lyrics, you are constantly interrupted by her with a witty joke you wish you thought of. I asked what the problem was with being a steamroller instead of a sunflower and I was laughed down.
2. The Beautiful One, the long hair or the slim waist or the pretty eyes or the lips like bowstrings. This woman looks good in everything because she’s confident in whatever you put her in. She’ll cut her hair short on you no matter how you like it, she’ll wear high heels and step on your opinions, she’ll look hot as hell no matter what size she is. See, the reason you can’t trust her is because women like this don’t need your permission, they’ll do as they please and get away with it. They’ll say no to you, over and over. Teach your daughters that beautiful means dangerous, teach them to distrust women who love themselves. Equate beautiful with vapid, equate pretty with stupid, take their power from them. Say they’re vain for their makeup, refuse to see them without it. These women are snakes, they are serpents. I said maybe the problem lies with you being unable to control yourself and was told to get off my pedestal.
3. A Bitch. Women are supposed to be ladies in the street but will tear skin under sheets. I’m told: Never raise your voice. Speak gently. Submit. Hold your opinion against your lips and when you admit to it, make sure it comes out as a butterfly wing suggestion. Don’t disagree. Don’t undermine someone else’s authority, regardless of whether or not they deserve your respect. Someone touches you, just move away from them. Don’t hit. Don’t talk back. Be like the ruins of Rome, only beautiful if you can’t hear your quiet death.
4. The Needy One. I have heard how others spit when they talk about how she gave you everything and you shoved it back down her throat until she choked on it, until she came back crawling and asked you what she did, until her palms and knees were scraped for want of just a little affection - never be this woman, I’m told, because she’s a joke and the joke is that she dared to have more emotion than you did. The truth is, I’m told, the one who cares less in a partnership is the one who wins. I didn’t know this was a competition.
5. The Cock Tease, certified stripper, how dare that girl look like that and not want me to sleep with her. Lust is always personified as a lady in red with a dress slit up her thigh. Lust is sinful because it’s power, it’s not asking for attention - it’s demanding it. I’m told she is the worst kind of woman, that looking good is supposed to be some kind of shame on her kin. I’m told not to leave the house in such a short skirt, not with a shirt so low, not with a lace back, not with high heels, not dressed like that. My lipstick can’t be too red, my hair can’t be too mussed, I can’t just “turn someone on like that and then leave them wanting.” I mentioned that instant gratification actually ruins our psyche and was told that being led on was “exhausting.” I said that there was a difference between purposefully tricking someone into liking you and just being attractive or friendly. I was told there’s also a difference between coffee and tea but both result in caffeine. I said, “I’ve been turned on in class by the girls I talk to but I didn’t expect anything from them,” and they said, “It’s different, you’re not a man,” but couldn’t explain where that difference was.
6. A Slut, obviously ruined by another person’s touch. It doesn’t matter how many people she’s actually been with, it’s all about the rumors she carries with her. Easy. Harlot. You’ll still try to get with her, you’ll still take her into your bed and kiss her and say things you don’t mean - but you’ll defame her name when you talk to your buddies. My father used to say “A slut is fine for the night, but the virgin is who you take home and marry.” Maybe he didn’t know he was teaching his daughter to hate her sexuality. Maybe he didn’t know that every time she’d be kissed, her whole system would shake until she felt ready to combust, shame and self-hatred shivering against her spine. Maybe he didn’t know she’d disconnect emotions and sex because he always told her, “Boys are different, they won’t care about you.” Nobody said to her that it was okay to experiment. See, the funny thing is, I’m a dancer so I know exactly where my center of gravity is. I know how hard I’ll fall in each direction. Yet out of fear of getting hurt, I won’t let a single person inside of my bed.
7. The Soulmate. Never love romance more than you love being cynical. Never show weakness, never like pink, never think maybe you might find someone nice and settle down with them. Someone will find you, I was told, And if you’re lucky, he’ll put up with you when you start getting old. Never be the woman who believes in happily ever after, never be dumb enough to think maybe someone could love you after all of your mistakes. It has nothing to do with whether or not a family is important to you and you’re in a good place where a relationship would make your life better - you’re not a princess. You don’t get married, you settle.
8. The Girl With Strength, who can outrun everyone and who is stronger than her boyfriend. “See the thing about boys,” says my daddy, “Is that you have to let them win.” I sat at home and read stories about Artemis and wanted to become the huntress, too. I wanted to howl at the moon, I wanted to slay the beasts that bested me, I wanted to rule my kingdom with bloody fists. But girls are never athletes, never supposed to be “built,” regardless of the fact civilizations were constructed on our spines and we made homes in war by the steel of our ribs. Never be strong. We are supposed to wilt.
9. The Lady CEO: because if you choose work over family, are you really a girl? How dare you fight your way to the top through every pair of eyes that bore through your blouse, through every meeting where you were hushed by the sound of someone else talking, through every time someone called you “sweetie,” how dare you yearn for something. Is your husband the stay-at-home one? I can’t imagine how that is going. He’s not a real man, after all. I don’t give it long before the divorce. How dare you decide you’re happy being single. Don’t you know you’re supposed to bear children. Where is your honor? Where is your wisdom? Who cares if you are the leader, the best suited for your position, the quickest-thinking, the one who makes the hardest clients come back again. Don’t you see? Across history, women have been terrible at success. They always lose their man in the end. (When I said, “I would rather be a famous author than a mediocre mother,” I was told, “No, don’t worry, you’ll be a fine mommy.”)
10. THE GIRL I AM: FIRECRACKER AND DON’T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT I’LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS AND I WON’T FUCKING REGRET IT I’M NOT YOUR PRETTY GIRL I’M NOT YOUR ANYTHING I’M PERFECT, MOTHERFUCKER, AND I’M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP WHAT I’M DOING. I DON’T WANT TO BE “LADYLIKE” THAT LITERALLY MEANS NOTHING I’M NOT GOING TO STOP STANDING UP AND DEMANDING WHAT’S COMING TO ME. I’M GONNA BE SOMEBODY. I’M GONNA MAKE THEM REMEMBER ME. I REFUSE TO BE OVERSHADOWED IN HISTORY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO CREATE BUT YOU MADE ME A DRAGON YOU PUT ME IN THE FIRE AND WHEN I STOPPED BURNING I LEARNED HOW TO GLOW DON’T THINK YOU CAN STOP ME YOU CAN’T TAME A TORNADO.”
The thing about being anti-abortion is that for most people, it is about making easy choices.
Once you’ve defined terminating a pregnancy (which is, by the way, the most likely natural outcome of a pregnancy) as “killing a child”, it really is a no-brainer. “Should I be for baby killing, or against baby killing?” is not a question most people need to ask themselves, or stop and think about.
Even better, this bit of mental gymnastics inexplicably leaves millions of people and the laws of many countries in favor of “baby killing”, which means there are that many million people you can feel better than.
You haven’t done anything. You have not improved anyone’s life. You have not made the world a better place. You have not helped any living soul on the planet, but already, you are better than millions of people.
And if you decide to “do something” about abortion?
Carry a sign.
Put some pennies in a box somewhere.
Reblog out of context, mislabeled, or misleading pictures of babies, fetuses, and parts of pregnant bodies.
Now you’re a superhero. Now you’re a crusader. Now you’re fighting the neverending battle for truth, justice, and precious little babies at Christmas.
Of course, if you really believed deep down inside that millions of actual babies are literally being murdered all the time, you wouldn’t be putting pennies in boxes, would you? It’s convenient to your self-esteem to be able to tell yourself that the stakes are as high as the lives of babies and the soul of a nation, but it’s convenient to your lifestyle that you know, deep down inside, that they really aren’t.
If you’ve got a lot of time and passion, you can go down to a reproductive health clinic (where there may or not actually even be any abortions performed, and where there are certainly a myriad of other necessary health care services being performed) and scream misogynistic insults at anybody who braves your gauntlet.
Maybe she’s getting a pap smear.
Maybe she’s getting an ultrasound for the baby she plans on carrying to term.
Maybe she’s going to terminate a pregnancy she really wanted, but can’t have.
Maybe she’s going to have an already dead fetus removed from her body.
Maybe she’s going to have an abortion because she’s pregnant and doesn’t want to be.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to you. All that matters is sides: you’re on the right side, she’s on the wrong side. And you get to engage in the most vile impulses that wrack the human brain: shouting, screaming epithets, hurling accusations, attacking the vulnerable, reducing another human being to a mass of tears and convulsions and you can do it guilt-free because you have constructed a reality where this person in front of you, whatever might actually be going through in their life, is a proxy responsible for the deaths of millions of tiny precious little babies and you, you are the fearless Soldier of Good who will save them.
Being anti-abortion is all about the easy choices.
That’s why you don’t hear about many “pro-lifer” who decides to bravely die rather than terminate a life-endangering pregnancy, trusting in God to decide whether parent and/or baby shall life.
Oh, yes, they’ll find people who make the decision to carry on with pregnancies that are high-risk, and they laud these people as proof of the lies of the pro-choice movement… never mind that there are many pro-choice people who make the same decision. That’s the nature of choice.
I’m not talking about high-risk pregnancies. I’m talking about situations where it’s not even a risk any more. Where are the martyrs to life? I can show you pro-life women who went and had an abortion when it was convenient for them, not even medically necessary. And it’s not hard to find pro-lifers demanding that other people carry a diagnosed dead or fatal-to-the-parent fetus to term because “doctors can be wrong”. Where are the pro-lifers who make this choice for themselves?
When the wives of conservative politicians have an abortion to end an ectopic pregnancy or other similar condition, it gets reduced to “a medically necessary procedure” that’s certainly not an abortion, no, don’t call it that because if there are two things the pro-life movement is sure about it’s that abortion isn’t a medical procedure and that it is never necessary.
But anyone else undergoing the same procedure? That’s an abortion. And it’s wrong.
Because the pro-life movement is about making easy choices and easy judgments. It’s convenient crusading. Invent an enemy so unconscionably horrific that you can’t help but look good and feel good opposing them, so widespread and close to home that you don’t have to give up your life at home to combat them, and so ultimately harmless that there is literally no risk to you in standing up to these horrible, bloodthirsty monsters.
But if it happens that you need an abortion, you’ll have one. Because you’ve been making the easy choices all along. And if you get pregnant and choose to keep it, in spite of… whatever… you tell yourself that’s a triumph against choice, when in fact it’s a triumph of choice.