PlazaJen: The Blog

Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: Truthisms

For The Record….

I originally posted this on Facebook, and made it public, because I am so tired of how women are so casually objectified, treated, assaulted and demeaned. I wanted as many people to give pause and really hear my words, to reflect on what they believe, and how we can collectively take action to stop not only the runaway election train, but also just the everyday shit, the daily life, and that IT’S OK to demand to be treated better. As of this morning, that post has been shared 40 times, which pleases me mightily, because it means it’s resonated with other like-minded people, who are tired of the tilt and want to see the scales balanced. Since I own this domain, I wanted to place it here for posterity.

Every generation has its battle. I am not a historian by any stretch of the imagination, but I look back at the women who paved so many roads before me. The ones who were imprisoned over their fight for the right to vote. The women who fought for equality, who have fought for equal pay (still not there), fought for freedom over their own goddamned bodies (still not there), fought for freedom to not be raped because of what they wore, what they drank, where they were (still not there). Fought for the right to raise their voices to be heard (still not there), fought to be respected in the workplace and the opportunity to rise to the top (still fighting for share).


And I look at my own life. The shock of being grabbed and groped in high school – in between classes! The shock of my high school chemistry teacher and english teacher making comments about the size of my breasts.. The shock of my government teacher bragging about his college sexual conquests, right there in class. The shock of saying no and still being raped. The shock of being told to be quiet, to dress a certain way, to be admonished for speaking up. The astonishment of a male coworker leaning in as if he could just kiss me because he thought he was entitled to and I was just…there to receive it.

After all these years of this, I’m out of tolerance. I’m simply bankrupt of patience. So when I hear a rich and famous and powerful man say he can grab women by their pussies, that he just can’t stop himself from kissing them if they’re pretty, I want to set the world on fire with my mind, out of hope in reducing the landscape to ashes, that from the smoke, the phoenix of equality and respect could somehow rise. Because, sure, I’m not at-risk for a Trump assault, after all, I’m a fat pig by his standards. But I am not unworthy of respect or decency. I am not reduced to an object to be possessed, or labeled in two-dimensional slurs. I am an intelligent human being who is contributing to society and worthy of respect and decency. And the fact that my generation is STILL FUCKING FIGHTING FOR THIS is what makes me insane with anger. I have plenty of self-respect, and it doesn’t make me a crazy bitch to expect it from the world around me. I’m not here to decorate your world, I’m here to contribute, I’m here to speak up when others feel afraid, and by god, I am going to vote and do whatever else it takes to not lose more ground for all women in this country.

I’m not here
To decorate your world.
If you don’t think I’m pretty?
I don’t care.
You may sneer at my size
The space I consume,
And to that I say kindly,
Go fuck yourself.
The beautiful thing about getting older
Is no longer caring
What a stranger thinks.
It’s hearing crazy responses
And instead of taking them inward,
As a fault of my own,
I think, instead,
“What’s your damage?”
Your words fall into the chasm
Between where you want them to land
And where I actually stand.
I just don’t care
Because I know myself.
I finally do.
I’m here to tell you
It is beautiful to be
Exactly
Precisely
Unabashedly
Me.

Truth #2

When everyone around you is wrong, the odds are high that the problem actually lies within you.

Reflect. Identify. Resolve.

Truth.

When we embrace the parts of ourselves that we feel are the worst elements, the ugliest pieces, the parts we ignore because they are so painful to acknowledge, once we look at them and wrap our arms around them in unconditional acceptance and love, that is when we truly find freedom.

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