Tuesday, 18 February 2014

I got slut shamed, and I let it go.

An image of friends, two girls, and a quote, white oleander, feminism quote

Sometimes you will write something, and someone won't agree. This is expected, and we embrace new ways of thought. After all, I want to be a journalist and people will often disagree with me. I can't force anyone's hand. I always enjoy a well informed debate, but I don't enjoy it when people are deluded into thinking they wield power over me with words. They do so by getting personal.

Whatever it was that I said, I may have engaged in some exaggerated language as a tool for creating humour. I know when to cut off, and I know what is offensive. This wasn't, and it didn't require the response that it got. It didn't warrant slut shaming. My initial reaction was to suit up, to bring back an armour of self defence. I saw an imminent threat- I saw self righteous ranting, and I saw a big problem.

It has happened to me before, by men. I have been called "sloppy seconds" on more than one occasion. Let me say now that anything that has been said has been unjustified and rattled by village or town gossip, but I refuse to have my name slandered online. Perhaps I am slightly less concerned about it if a man does it, because I feel we always have to fight against them to be able to fight with them on equal battlefields. As women we demand respect, but we don't always seem to give it to one another.

It has never happened at the hands of another woman, especially when I've been in a relationship. Anything that I may or may not have done in the past, is actually nobody's business but my own. I think that the word "slut" is hyperbolic, and that even the sound of it rolls with a harsh spit of venom off the tongue. I think the word "slut" is inconsistent to different people, and I think that you are different than me.

I was angry, yes. For the person who did it knows fragments of my life, not the entire book. But I was equally disappointed, because if anyone chooses to disagree with you they should do so with intellect. In this case, delete didn't happen quick enough. Rhys saw it, and he knows the cruelty of the comment- he isn't as quick to forget it as I am. This hurts him as it hurt me, especially when the culprit knows us both.

an image of pink flowers, love
We wish people would be kind, that they could see our struggle. We wish we could have differences of opinion without responses laced with hate. We wish we could make mistakes without having them forced back down our throats when someone decides to press rewind, but I choose to hit stop.

I choose not to tear you down, but I don't fear doing it. I have bigger things to worry about, and I've got dreams to remember.

 I don't concern myself with flecks of dust on a glass.





Little note on the side: Don't hate, if you believe in sticking together please share this and tell me your stories. xo