GUEST WRITER: Trust and Care for Yourself – Final

It’s been a year since #MeToo swept the nation. So this month I decided to open up my platform to allow some other amazing women in my life to share their anger as well. Want to be a guest writer for Angry Feminist as well? Let’s talk! – Darci 

This is the final piece of a 3 piece series. Check out Part 1 and Part 2

FINAL

The decision to get a divorce was not made lightly. I have been unhappy in my marriage for the past 5 years, but not every day. There were always days that felt good, moments we shared that I thought “this is why I married him.” We didn’t talk about anything real anymore, but he still made me laugh when he was in a good mood.  We started traveling, and he let me make some decisions and followed my lead.  I could see ways that he was trying to be better and make it work.

After years of asking and hoping that my feelings would change, that he would be able to give me breathing room and not feel the need to be in control, we went to marriage counseling this year. This was a huge step that gave me hope, since bringing up counseling in the past had always caused a huge fight. Here he was finally saying that he knew we needed help and he was ready to do the work.

Except he wasn’t. At our first session, which we had planned months in advance, we were given an article about communication to read, and he forgot. And by forgot, I mean he put it in a drawer after looking at it on the table for a week. It seems small, but this was one of the ways he told me he wasn’t ready to put in the effort our relationship needed. He had already established a pattern of changing just enough to mollify me and make me feel guilty for wanting to leave; and putting the article in a drawer and not reading it was just another example of how little he thought he needed to work. He was willing to go to counseling, but he didn’t want to talk in the sessions.  He wanted to show me he was trying but couldn’t be bothered to put anything the counselor suggested into action.  Because our relationship had been full of criticism from him towards me, the counselor suggested that he should ask me before giving me critical feedback.  He was not open to this idea.

We talked in counseling about the darkest days of our marriage, and the counselor asked if I had been traumatized. My husband’s response was to say that it had been a really hard time for him. He apologized for me feeling like it was abuse but asked for understanding that it had been a really difficult point in his life and I should try not to hold it against him. He focused again on how he didn’t finish his degree, he didn’t get the job he thought he would, he wasn’t making as much money as he planned.  This response, along with everything else, showed once again that he did not believe he had really done anything that bad. He defended and excused his behavior.  He had a tendency to gaslight me, tell me that my perception of reality was wrong, that I was making things worse in my head than they really were. And he did this in our final counseling session, when I told him I would not be coming home and we would be getting a divorce.

He told me things weren’t actually that bad, and I was making it worse than it had to be. I should just forgive his behavior and move on, because he loved me. But I could not forgive abuse that was still ongoing. And he couldn’t see how he was still abusing me. He couldn’t see that when he “talked me up” to friends, it felt like an act. I know he genuinely cared for me, and was doing his best to show it, but it never seemed to come from somewhere deep. It all seemed to be driven by showing everyone else what a good husband he was or showing me why I should forgive him and do what he wanted.  He couldn’t see that telling me to talk less and not answer questions about my job, but instead talk about how great he was, isn’t a healthy relationship.  There are a million versions of quotes about “don’t let anyone dull your sparkle,” and that is exactly what he wanted me to do.  Take up less room so he could take up more.  After 6 and a half years of marriage, 5 of which were unhealthy and unhappy, I finally told him I would not be trying to fix us anymore.

I am no longer in that relationship. I am living by myself for the first time in my life. The weight of constant fear and worry that I was going to disappoint him, upset him, make him feel less than, not pay enough attention to him, talk about myself too much, see friends too often, not have enough sex, is gone. I can put the eggs in the fridge any way I like.

But more importantly, I can breathe.

My head space is not constantly filled with worry. My thoughts were always preoccupied with the weight of my failing marriage, and I’m no longer aboard a sinking ship. This is an opportunity for me to learn about myself, and to be sure I don’t fall into the same pattern again. And honestly, I could not feel more confident in my decision. I get to be my own person, to take time to reflect on my relationship and how I contributed to it. I get to read books whenever I want, listen to whatever music I want, and no one tries to tell me my choices are wrong.

This entire process, from marriage to divorce, has been a journey that didn’t turn out the way I planned, but I don’t think I would change it. My marriage and its failure has taught me many lessons I needed to learn. I have so much empathy for people who choose divorce and am much less quick to judge. I am no longer the conservative person I was when I got married. I firmly believe in equality in relationships, and in the division of emotional labor. I can now recognize narcissistic personalities easily and avoid them. I learned to speak up for myself, and that only good things will happen when I do. I learned that I am strong, independent, thoughtful, intelligent, beautiful, and worthy of a life that is happy. I learned that I should be able to ask for what I need in a relationship and expect my partner to respond. I learned to recognize emotional manipulation, and what it feels like when someone makes me responsible for their emotions. I learned that I am valuable, and I do not need to be in a relationship to be loved.

I worried that I would wake up full of regret for leaving my marriage. I was sure I would feel guilty for ending a promise that I made for life. But guilt is not a reason to stay married. I realized my feeling of guilt over wanting to end my marriage was the only thing still keeping me in it, and now that I’m out I do not have that feeling. I was not struck by lightning. My family did not disown me. My friends did not judge me, either for staying too long or not long enough. I gave my marriage my best honest try, and ultimately made a decision that is healthier for both of us. I listened to my own voice and made the choice to end it when it was clear that the relationship was unhealthy and beyond repair. My family and friends have been unendingly supportive, and I. Feel. Free.

 

-Adira

 

GUEST WRITER: Trust and Care for Yourself – Part 2

It’s been a year since #MeToo swept the nation. So this month I decided to open up my platform to allow some other amazing women in my life to share their anger as well. Want to be a guest writer for Angry Feminist as well? Let’s talk! – Darci 

This is part 2 of a 3 piece story. Check out Part 1 here

PART 2

I was 24 and 3 years into my marriage, but I was realizing things had gone very differently than I planned.  That being said, I still thought I could fix our relationship. My husband was difficult, but he had reasons to be based on his childhood.  I started going to counseling for myself, and every time I walked out the door he would fight with me.  He would say how uncomfortable he was with me talking about our issues to a stranger.  I heard him, but I kept going because I knew I needed help processing this relationship.  I invited him many times to come to couples’ counseling, and each time was met with absolute and blatant refusal, coupled with disgust that I had asked. Through a year of counseling, I started realizing his issues with me were not about me at all, but about himself.  He had an intense need to put on a good show for everyone around him, a need to be impressive in all things; be it intelligence, living situation, looks, status, whatever.  I would notice him exaggerate things to friends to sound more impressive.  If I corrected him, even kindly, he would snap at me and ask why I was saying he was wrong in front of people.  I stopped doing that.  Things were better for a while as I learned to communicate with him. He started helping around the house, he stopped saying unsupportive things about my work. This all felt like progress. I convinced myself there was still hope. I stopped going to counseling.  I was 25.

But the truth is that he was manipulating me. Any time he had something that he wanted to change about the way things were, he had to get his way. He used logic and counted on my tendency for emotional decisions to convince me I was irrational if I disagreed with him. There were countless rules I had to follow in daily life in order to make sure I wasn’t disrupting him. No reading if he was home, because that felt like him being blocked out (I am an absolute bookworm.  He used to brag about how quickly I read). Put the eggs back in the fridge this direction, not that. That’s the wrong way to microwave a taco. I fought back on each of these rules but was convinced I was probably in the wrong. He wasn’t in the wrong, I just hadn’t forgiven him for the abuse of the past. I wasn’t really being abused now. He wasn’t calling me stupid anymore. Things were better, surely.

Except they weren’t better, they were just different. He no longer tried to control how I dressed, but instead he started making me feel guilty about going out with friends. I always asked how his day was, but he rarely returned the gesture. He didn’t think we talked about his job or interests any more than mine, which was easily visible and untrue. If I wasn’t feeling amorous or physical, he would give me the silent treatment and make sure I knew I had hurt his feelings until I changed my tune. He was constantly trying to be physical in public. His need for physical affection outweighed my discomfort and need for space. I started unconsciously flinching every time he touched me because I was afraid it would turn into something more. I knew these things weren’t right, but I couldn’t justify walking away for such small things. Those aren’t abuse. That’s not a horrible person. We just had more work to do.

When my husband and I would go to social events, people were constantly asking if my husband was ok, people we barely knew, people who had no idea what was or wasn’t going on. His attitude was desperately seeking approval while at the same time trying to convince everyone in the room that he was on their level or better. And I would defend or explain his behavior, because I wanted to be a loving, supportive wife. I knew he struggled with talking with people. He said he often felt like he didn’t know what to say or how to come up with the right words. So when he was awkward or rude to people, I would say he’s just unsure of himself. He’s not actually that way, he just gets in his own way and is nervous.

My friends checked in on me constantly, asking how things were going, if things were getting better. Sometimes I was positive and optimistic, listing all the ways he had changed. He now washed the dishes every night! What progress! But when they dug deeper, they would start questioning his behavior, and my optimistic illusions couldn’t hold up. Yes, he washed the dishes, but he made sure I knew that he didn’t want to and felt it was ridiculous that I made him do it. And there were certain things he wouldn’t wash because it was “just too much trouble,” so if I cooked a meal with those things, I better wash it myself. Yes, he was better behaved in public, but he still couldn’t give someone else a compliment without making it about himself.

And somehow, this still wasn’t enough for me to leave him. I spent a year in this kind of limbo, where I knew we weren’t happy but couldn’t bring myself to end it.

Not until I started thinking about what raising a family with him would be like. Really thinking about it. Because maybe he would be great. But everything I had seen with him around kids, around our friends’ kids, was general annoyance with the noise and mess they make. But more than that, any kids we had would have to abide by his rules. They would not be allowed to make messes and mistakes. And what would happen if they didn’t follow his rules, or when they made messes or mistakes? This was my tipping point.  I was 27, we had been married for 6 years, and I went back to counseling.  This time he didn’t fight me every time I walked out the door but listened when I said that I needed to talk about things with someone other than him.  I saw this as a huge sign of progress and was hopeful that counseling would help me forgive him and move on together.

With a very conservative religious background, I have always looked at divorce as being a quitter. Everyone knows marriage is hard! Taking two people and pushing them together for life is no easy task for a saint, let alone a flesh and blood human being. I never thought I would be that person. I believed everything I heard about marriage being two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. He even started saying that to me constantly.

And I still believe that definition to be true, but it only works if both people are willing to do the work it takes. As soon as the burden falls on one person or the other, the system is bound to fail. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to do the work. He would constantly make excuses for his behavior, but always in a way that tugged on my tendency for empathy. When I brought up concerns about how he treated me, things would somehow get turned around until I was apologizing and making him feel better.  When I brought up ways I would like help, I was met with reasons that I was asking for too much. This was a relationship where his needs had to be met or I would be punished with silence and shame, but many of my needs could be explained away and mostly left alone. Every time I had a concern about our relationship, it was explained and reasoned away. At the same time, he felt competitive with me and told me so.  He told me that people ask too many questions about my job and not enough about his, so I should start turning the conversation to him instead.  He told me I “outshone” him in social situations, and I should start bringing him forward and putting myself in the background.

As I talked with my counselor about the relationship, she pointed out these narcissistic tendencies and helped me see that I really was doing all the right things to try to communicate my needs.  Unfortunately, with narcissism, there’s no room to be told you’re wrong.  I started to recognize that most of his behavior was rooted in needing to be verbally celebrated, needing approval from everyone around him.  My counselor also helped me understand co-dependency.  I always thought that term referred to relying on another person, but it means so much more.  Co-dependency can also mean relying on creating an image and maintaining it, through physical appearance, possessions, cars, clothes, etc.  This describes my ex perfectly.  Many of our arguments stemmed from me not following his mental picture of what his life should look like, either in how I dressed or acted.  I wasn’t fitting the mold of “cool trendy girl.”  I didn’t worship him and encourage others to tell him how great or interesting he was.  I stopped seeing my counselor for a while because she told me that narcissistic personalities rarely change, and she didn’t think he would.  I didn’t want to hear it and wanted to keep trying to fix my relationship. This was all earlier this year.

That might sound crazy, based on everything else he had done, but again, he was a master of emotional manipulation, and I have been raised to be a peace keeper.  I knew he had issues, but I also knew that his life had been difficult.  There are reasons for how he acts, and many of them aren’t his fault.  A difficult childhood is enough to give anyone baggage, and his was rougher than most.  Between his need for understanding and my identity as a peace keeper, I felt like I needed to stay with him and work things out.

 

-Adira

What This Administration is Teaching Our Children

The last two years in politics have been an utter shit show. It’s hard to keep up with all the shit going on. The key players change weekly. The plot twists happen so fast if you blink you miss it. And we have all had to face the harsh reality that we are a nation run by racists and sexists.

But this isn’t just about surviving these four years and hoping that we still have elections and a right to vote and that we don’t end up in a nuclear war in the meantime. There are very clear, very dangerous lessons we are passing on to the next generation right now.

The youth of our nation are watching, and we are teaching them horrible truths.

What our boys have learned from this administration:
-There are no consequences.
You can treat a woman however you want. You can violate her body and the law and openly brag about it. You can blame alcohol. You can deny. You can coerce. If you want it you can have it. And nothing bad will happen to you. You won’t go to jail. You won’t lose your job. You can even rise to the highest power of our nation. So what’s stopping you from taking it?

-Women are not credible advocates for their own story.
Look at Dr. Ford. She has advanced degrees, a prestigious career, and has multiple sources supporting her credibility and honesty. She was calm, poised, eloquent, and professional. And yet she was maliciously questioned, attacked, and told all the ways she had misunderstood her circumstances. Meanwhile Brent Kavanaugh can scream and cry and behave like a bafoon and his testimony is considered the credible one.

-If you don’t like the truth, you can just call it fake.
The new mantra any man can use now when someone is telling a story they don’t like: Fake News. And that ends the conversation. A woman accuses you of rape? Fake News. There is undeniable evidence that you payed hush money? Fake News. There is testimony from multiple sources that support claims of sexual assault? Fake News. Man can determine truth and lies based on what is most convenient for them. The reality they want they get.

What our girls have learned from this administration:
-When men yell, they are passionate and full of conviction, when women yell they are unhinged and discredited.
We all know the narrative. If a woman expresses an emotion she must be on her period. And if she is on her period we are not to take her seriously. Because being on your period means you are irrational, and more importantly incorrect. This narrative is pushed in every platform. Find me one sitcom that doesn’t push this narrative and claim it to be humor.
And we women have learned that because of this ridiculous narrative that we must remain calm, quiet, and patient when we are fighting for what we believe.
During the last two years our girls have watched countless men yell and scream because they weren’t getting exactly what they wanted how they wanted when they wanted. While a woman calmly and patiently stood her ground and told the truth. From Hilary Clinton to Sally Yates to Dr. Ford, our girls have watched powerful and intelligent women stand their ground while men yelled and screamed at them.

-What happens to you in your teenage years doesn’t matter, because what teenage boys do doesn’t matter. Boys will be boys.
Just as boys have learned there are no consequences for their actions, girls have learned there is no protection to be found when they are violated. There is no protection, no justice, and their bodies are not their own. And more girls are learning to fear coming forward.

-His future is more important than your body.
We can’t punish him for raping you because think about his future? It doesn’t matter that he was caught in the middle of the act by two sober men who will testify exactly what they witnessed. It doesn’t matter that there are multiple women coming forward with the same story. It doesn’t matter. Because his future is more important, and we must protect his future, not your body.

 

We have to change the message we are sending to our children. This isn’t about republican vs democrat. This isn’t about political parties. It’s about teaching our children to be honest, respectful, and good. Otherwise our children’s fate will be worse than our own. #MeToo won’t matter, #TimesUp won’t matter, women won’t matter.

Our girls deserve better. Our boys deserve better.

The Mid-term elections are almost here. Go vote on November 6th. And maybe we can tell a new story.

 

-Darci

 

GUEST WRITER: Trust and Care for Yourself – Part 1

It’s been a year since #MeToo swept the nation. So this month I decided to open up my platform to allow some other amazing women in my life to share their anger as well. Want to be a guest writer for Angry Feminist as well? Let’s talk! – Darci 

This is part 1 of a 3 piece story.

PART 1

I am 27 years old. This year, I left my husband. And it is the best choice I have ever made for myself.

While getting divorced was the best choice I have ever made for myself, it was in no way the easiest choice. This decision took me five years to make and act on. I did not rush into this, and I strongly believe that no one should. I do not think my ex-husband was a terrible person, just someone who couldn’t face their own issues.  That being said, divorce is not the black sheep that we have made it out to be.

Let me give you some back story.

My ex-husband and I met when we were 18. We started dating within a week of meeting each other, and because we lived in the same dorms we spent essentially every waking minute together from day one. He was my first real boyfriend, my first relationship that lasted more than three months, the first person I kissed. We were madly in love. We could talk for hours on end about music, something we were both passionate about.  I felt fully comfortable talking to him, like I didn’t have to put on an act and be cooler than I was. He would buy me little gifts even though we were both poor college students and went out of his way to make me feel special.  He respected my boundaries and didn’t kiss me until I was ready. This carried on for a year and a half, and then he proposed when we were 19. Neither of us had finished college. Neither of us was out in the real world yet, but I was confident we would be good partners.  We were at a Christian school that has a reputation for “ring by spring,” and I felt like I had found my person.  My conservative religious upbringing was pointing all fingers towards marrying him.  He had a rough upbringing and his parents had a troubled marriage that we talked about constantly.  He told me how much he disliked their relationship, and how committed he was to not falling into the same patterns they had. He wanted kids right away, but I talked him out of it with the draw of traveling the world.

We were engaged for another year and a half, then married at age 21.  That first year of marriage, I continued on and finished my degree, then was hired in the career of my choice. He did not and found a blue-collar labor job that he felt was beneath him. That first year was the best year of our marriage.  We were poor, we lived in a terrible apartment on the bad side of town, we bought groceries with change, but we were incredibly happy.  He still went out of his way to tell me how much he loved me, how fantastic it was to be sharing life with me, and I felt the same about him.

The following year is when the emotional abuse began. I was 22. I found a different job, where I immediately felt a sense of belonging and fulfillment.  My paycheck increased, and we lived in a beautiful house instead of a crappy apartment.

It started small and didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary. He would eat the dinner I made every night, but would find something to complain about, and would not help clean up. His reasoning was that I made that mess, I wanted to cook, therefore it was my responsibility. Always. Then the same story happened again when we got a dog. I wanted the dog; therefore, it was my responsibility to clean all the floors in the house. Always. These were both things I’d grown up watching my mother do for my father, so I didn’t bat an eye. I told him I would like some help, but his reasoning was solid and he couldn’t be moved.

And apart from those things, our relationship seemed good. We could be goofy together, we liked watching the same shows, he made me laugh and feel loved. We had a million inside jokes and were constantly making more.  I still thought our relationship was fine but was starting to realize I wasn’t the same kind of wife as my mom.  I didn’t feel it made sense for us both to be working full time jobs, but for the running of the household to fall on one person.  I knew he loved me and I loved him, but I started having questions about our relationship.  I knew he was unhappy with his job but thought that once he found a better one things would improve.

Then clearer cases started to show up.

When I was 23, I would come home after a hard day at work, talking about my frustrations, and he would stop me to say “Well you chose this, so you can’t complain. I don’t want to hear it.” That was the end of me talking about my job. But since his career was not what he “chose” he was allowed to talk about it for hours on end. He began telling me I needed to work out because I wasn’t as in shape as I should be. I look better when I wear more makeup. I should be sexier. I must be afraid of my own sexuality. I must be stupid, because I can’t navigate to a new or very recent location without asking for directions or using GPS. My job is easy and overcompensated. I wouldn’t take a keychain off my purse to fit his visual preference, so he wouldn’t talk to me at a friend’s wedding. He did not speak for the rest of the event.  For the entire drive home.  We left early because he was making everyone around us uncomfortable.

At this point, I realized I was married to someone I had completely misjudged. I found myself dreading going home. We lived somewhere that had his friends surrounding us, but none of mine, so I felt like I had no one to turn to. Eventually I broke down with a couple girlfriends, crying that my husband, who had promised to love and cherish and support me until the end of our days, thought I was worthless, stupid, ugly. He had to be right about everything. If I disagreed on something, he would beat the subject until I said he had changed my mind. We were 24 and had been married for three years now.  I was heartbroken that the person I trusted most was betraying my trust, was telling me terrible things about myself and hurting me in ways I had never thought possible.  He had promised we would always talk things through, but I began realizing that meant we would talk until I gave up on changing his mind.  This was not the partnership he promised, the open communication and respect to avoid the trap his parents fell into.

 

-Adira

To be continued…. 

GUEST WRITER: What Do I Tell My Female Students?

It’s been a year since #MeToo swept the nation. So this month I decided to open up my platform to allow some other amazing women in my life to share their anger as well. Want to be a guest writer for Angry Feminist as well? Let’s talk! – Darci 

“Ms. K—what does it mean now? Will Kavanaugh definitely be confirmed?” It was the end of Friday’s lunch period, just moments before class was set to begin. The sophomore girl looked at me, eyes wide, asking not just for answers, but for hope. She shared with me that her mother had cried in the car today while they were listening to the confirmation hearing on the radio. I felt like crying myself as I watched her face fall as I explained that, given this morning’s vote to continue the confirmation process, it seemed likely that Judge Kavanaugh would be confirmed. When I finished my answer, she stared at me as if the response had been in a foreign language. Her voice held a similar tone of shock and confusion: “But… really? After all of this? Why didn’t anyone care about Dr. Ford?”

Usually, teaching at an all-girls, college-preparatory school is inspiring. Usually I am in awe every time one of my students tells me about a game she coded, or about the social justice conference she went to, or about the non-profit she started. There is so much I should be hopeful for—so much promise this current generation of youth holds. Most days I swell with pride and the knowledge that these women are so talented and ready to take on the world and make a difference.

But somedays the world wins. Somedays I have to watch the confusion and pain in their eyes when they realize that the world might be more broken than they thought, that they might not be listened to or believed. The confirmation hearings of Brett Kavanaugh caused days like that, as did the election of Donald Trump.

I remember the day after the election. The excitement had been palpable in the school the day before—the girls had been ready to celebrate America’s first female president. They were ready to hear that society had rejected the person who bragged about grabbing women—“they let you do it… you can do anything”—and instead took a brave and long overdue step toward equality. The shock and disappointment filled all the classes the next day. I remember the same confused faces, the hurt and the anger as well.

Sometimes, I see these brave, passionate, intelligent women shocked to the core that the world we’ve built for them is still so unequal—still so full of sexism, rape culture, and oppression. On those days, I feel so sad and so angry.

This isn’t the kind of world I want to send these young women into. I’m not proud of this world. So, I’m going to keep fighting. I’m going to tell them, “We’ve come so far, but it’s not far enough, and some people want us to go back, to surrender our rights. We can’t do that.” I’m going to tell them, “We’re not going to forget, and we’re not going to stop.” I’m going to tell them, “This isn’t the world it could be, but we’re going to keep fighting—together—so that it can be.”

 

-Lauren

 

A Car Salesman Found Me Intimidating – But Why? 

Recently my partner and I purchased cars. It was a life step he was very excited for, and I was dreading. See, to me, a car is just a way to get from point A to point B as safely as possible. I don’t get excited about cars, I don’t find them sexy, and I don’t want to show them off.

But it was time for a new car. My car was old. My car was about to need work that would require putting more money into it than it was worth. And while it was a loyal and wonderful car, its time had come. So we did our research and made our short list of cars to test, we checked the dealership websites, we learned what these cars were actually selling for, and we got our game faces on.

Now what you don’t know about me is that I work in sales. High pressured, fast paced, major expectations sales. I don’t sell cars, but I know all the tricks. Which makes me kind of a car salesman’s nightmare.

I hate the process of buying cars. But we survived and walked away from the weekend with new cars that we are happy with. And when we finally negotiated my partners car down to a deal we were happy with and ready to move forward with, the salesman said to me, “I mean this as a compliment, but you are a very intimidating negotiator”.

Ok let’s back up for a moment. I’ll be honest, I didn’t love this salesman. Pretty much from the moment we started working with him I was not impressed. He talked too much, he talked over me too much, he couldn’t get to the point, he took a long process and made it 3x as long because he wouldn’t stop talking. But my partner is a much kinder person who was taught not to dislike people, so he was fine with the guy. And it was his car, so if he was fine with the guy that was what was important. But I was not impressed with this guy.

So when he first told me I was intimidating, I’ll be honest, I was almost flattered. In a world where men dominate, it is satisfying to knock them down a peg or two and remind them that women are a force to be reckoned with. But then I started thinking about it and started to wonder, what made me intimidating? I wasn’t chatty, I was knowledgeable about the car prices and discount options that were available to us, I had to ask him specifically to stop talking over me during the negotiating process, and I wasn’t putting up with his bullshit.

But here’s the thing, he didn’t try talking over my partner. When my partner spoke, the salesman let him speak, and waited for him to finish before talking. The salesman didn’t have to be asked to let my partner speak. When my partner asked him questions, he answered them directly, he didn’t flower them with stories meant to charm. When I told him the price wasn’t good enough he went on and on about why the price was the price, when my partner told him the price wasn’t good enough he went to go negotiate a lower price.

So it wasn’t so much that I was intimidating, but more that I didn’t fit his expectation of women. He expects the men to come in with knowledge about the car and knowledge about the market, he doesn’t expect women to. He expects men to negotiate, he expects men to keep their cards close to the vest, but he doesn’t expect women to. He sells to women very differently than he sells to men, because he thinks women have different values. He doesn’t respect women like he does men, and he doesn’t expect women to demand his respect.

Look, this guy isn’t a villain. He doesn’t start his day hating women, he doesn’t end his day hating women. In fact, he probably considers himself an advocate for women. He doesn’t realize the socialized sexism he carries with him every day. This man wasn’t sexualizing me, he wasn’t harassing me, he wasn’t even degrading me. And yet he was still behaving in a very sexist way. He doesn’t realize how drastically different he treated my partner vs me. He doesn’t realize the obvious lack of respect he had for me. He has these subconscious expectations of women that inform how he treats women. When I didn’t fit his expectations, when I demanded equal treatment, when I demonstrated my competence, he didn’t know what to do.

And that’s why I was intimidating to him. All of these micro aggressions he is allowed to get away with on a daily basis I would not put up with. I was intimidating because I wouldn’t take his bullshit and I demanded his respect right then and there. And he clearly was not used to that.

And if that doesn’t explain the battle women fight every day I don’t know what will.

 

 

-Darci

 

After a Year of #MeToo, Has Anything Changed?

It’s been roughly a year since #MeToo erupted and the world got a glimpse into the reality of what life is like for a woman. Many celebrities and public figures started by simply sharing #MeToo, but others started to share more. Details, stories, encounters, emotions. Then women everywhere started sharing #MeToo. Your aunt, your old Sunday school teacher, your neighbor, your co-worker, maybe even your ex. They all started sharing their stories. And suddenly this wasn’t just some Hollywood publicity stunt, this was a real-world-right-in-your-face issue.

And to a lot of men, this was a jarring revelation. How could someone be sexually harassing my old college best friend? Could this really be about more than just drunk and crazy men on the street screaming at strangers? To most women, this information was just a normal Tuesday. Because women already knew the reality. We already knew that sexual harassment and assault is part of our daily lives. And that it comes from the men in our daily lives. It was just men who were shocked.

A lot of men in the public eye have fallen from grace and had to go into hiding (though not to jail) and some have been uglier than others. But not a lot of men in our day to day lives have had to face any consequences. Most likely the men in our daily lives haven’t even change anything about their day to day actions.

I’ve thought about this a lot over the last year. Despite all of the women in my life who shared their #MeToo moments, not one named names. Not even me. Despite sharing our truth, we felt this urge to protect the men who made us feel unsafe. Perhaps because we understand the harsh reality that no matter how calm, collected, eloquent, and convicted we are, we will not be believed. Perhaps it’s because we fear further danger by escalating the truth too much. Or perhaps it’s because we have been conditioned our entire lives not to embarrass men.

But also, none of these guys stepped forward. Not one man who I called out (anonymously) when I shared my story attempted to apologize to me. All were friends. All could and most likely did see my post. All would have recognized themselves in the story. But not one tried to make it right. And yet I still protect them.

Justice wasn’t the point of #Metoo. Tearing men down wasn’t the point of sharing our stories. The point was to show just how prevalent sexual harassment and assault is. That it happens every day to every woman. That it is a problem that needs to be address, and change must happen.

There are plenty of men who were shocked by the information and shared #IBelieveHer type things. But there are also plenty of men who are mostly concerned with how this past year will affect them. Men who are worried their “good intentions” will be misunderstood. Men who fear women will confuse flirting with sexual harassment and they will have to face unfair consequences (even though none of them have faced any consequences). But there are still no men taking responsibility. All of the change is either unneeded or some other man’s responsibility to make happen.

What if, and stay with me here, men started sharing #ItWasMe? What if men started sharing their stories owning their mistakes, taking responsibility for their actions, and continuing the conversation. I know it’s crazy. But what if the next step of this story is men owning up to their actions.

Things like:
-I used alcohol as an excuse to grope my friend;
-I used alcohol as an excuse to ignore boundaries;
-I coerced my partner into sex;
-I wouldn’t take no for an answer;
-I was only interested in a relationship with women if it turned sexual; or
-I considered being Friendzoned an insult;
-I laughed at stories about assault rather than calling people out;
-I knew things were happening and didn’t report;
-I refused to get help when I realized I had a problem;
-I wasn’t an ally when I was needed;
-I could have done more, but I didn’t.

And of course, I know why this won’t happen. It’s an admission of guilt. It could lead to consequences. Right now, we live in a world where men can downplay all of their actions, they can gaslight all of their victims, and spend their days doing what they want to who they want and nothing bad really happens to them.

And god forbid a man be confronted with his past, attempt to be held accountable, face his accuser, he can cry and be as hysterical as he wants denying his responsibility, and still rise to power of Supreme Court Justice, or even President of the United States. So there really is no incentive to take responsibility, to apologize, or make right. And little boys everywhere learn that nothing happens when you assault women.

 

Darci