Scrolling through my Twitter timeline last week, I saw tweet. “I don’t like women with makeup.” Something amusing like that. I laughed. There’s always that average hetero male that believes he should express his opinion on how women should live.
This post is dedicated to that average hetero man (AHEM). (“AHEM” kinda rhymes with “mayhem”.)
The one who narrow us down to bodies, thinking all we have to offer is sex, and that is why he believes a woman visiting him, or inviting him over, is tantamount to her consenting to have sex with him.
This post is for that man who sees us, women, as threats every time we aspire to be the best we can be. He flatters himself to think women want to be like men every time we demand to be treated as humans. He believes he is the yardstick of being human by virtue of having a penis.
I’m writing this to that average hetero man who believes our existence belong to men, and so, he has the right to invade our bodies, our minds, our spaces, even when we insist he desists.
This one is for that man who make us, women, say, “Men are scum.”
You’d have us believe all men were the same, but thank goodness for the few men that have shown good examples of how life could be beautiful when men act decently.
(Sips green tea) It’s amusing when you say unfortunate things like: “Women are shallow. They spend so much on weaves.” “I don’t like women that makeup.” “When women wear miniskirts, they are asking for it.” “Men love women with meat, not bones.”
First things first, who asked you? Like, you believe you are that important; ergo, you can give us your unsolicited opinion. At what point did you believe your opinion meant the world to us?
Ask yourself, would you date us if we didn’t use those weaves and makeup you so condemn? Tell me, who are the people liking those pictures of “slay queens” on social media? Who are the ones that crawl into the DMs of women that have slay pictures? And when you slide, do you talk about Bohr and Bernini and Beethoven? That makes you a hypocrite, you know?
You love us shallow.
You love us, Shallow.
You are shallow, and that is why you are attracted to our “shallowness”. “Play a sucker to catch a sucker,” they said.
It is so interesting you have so much to say about our hairs and bodies. Hairs we will not grace your fingers to touch. Bodies we will not give you the privilege to wake up to see, scent, touch.
You are not allowed to tell us what to do with our hairs and bodies.
Then again, I do not blame you. I blame it on a culture that makes it seem as though a woman’s existence is meant for a man.
Another irksome thing you say is “You’re not like the others.”
It. Is. Not. A. Compliment. Saying that makes it seem as though it would be suicidal were you to jump from your high ego down to your IQ. All that distance would surely murder you.
You can appreciate people without comparing them to/with other people.
You can appreciate one woman without putting down other women.
Stop behaving as if we need your validation to live. We do not need your twisted compliments that come across as sexual harassment.
Stop giving us your unasked for opinions because we do not dress for you.
We do not walk for you.
We do not have all that elegance and grace and class, or act “girlie” for you. (What does it even meant to be girly?)
We do not breathe for you.
We do not exist for you.
We do not exist for you.
We do not exist for your pleasure. (A woman tells you she is bisexual or lesbian, and your soul is delighted. You clap your hands like a happy otter, while tapping your feet about like a happy penguin that just found fish after starving for days. Your mind cooks up the image of a ménage a trios. You think two women together looks hot. Your fingers lustfully type in the leeriest words the devil would not think of stringing together when searching for the right porn videos to quench the thirst inspired by your weird fetish for queer women. Yet when a man tells you he is gay or bisexual, you grow loathsome. How do you thrive being selectively homophobic? How do you walk around with the stench of hypocrisy hovering above your head? One would think the toxic stench would poison you out of existence.)
Our lives, the way we live, belongs to us.
Our. Existence. Is. Not. A. Constant. Audition. For. You. To. Find. Us. Desirable. Enough. For. Marriage.
If we’re slay queens, it is not your business.
If we’re not slay queens, it is not your business.
Stop putting down women for whatever innocuous choice they make. If it does not hurt you, look away!
Stop hinging your ego on how much you feel you can “control” us through the various means – such as slut-shaming, body-shaming – at your disposal.
Most important of all, we were not made for you. (This is the point where people, who believe in talking snakes, start asserting that a woman was made from a man’s rib; hence, women were made for men. Taking into cognisance men and women have equal number of ribs, is it not enough to accept that story is not even true? How do you base subjugating a group of people on an allegory?) Believing we were made for you is the reason you believe you are so important that we want your unrequested opinion.
Stop telling us what to do with our bodies and faces, our hairs, our lives. Keep your opinions on how we should be to yourself. Zip it!
P.S. One of the bravest things a woman can do is to understand her body, her life, belongs to her. Although no one taught us how to, each day teaches us lessons on how to how to reclaim ourselves, own ourselves, bit by bit.
P.P.S. If this irks you, well, I didn’t ask you to be average, abi? (Laughs in wickedness.) You can decide to have sense, and quit the average life. The “Unaverage” hetero men out there don’t have two heads.
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