Being the only girl of a liberal mother, who herself was raised by very conservative parents, I had the freedom to choose how I wanted to express myself without being confined by societal norms. I loved dump trucks and race cars as well as American Girl dolls and playing dress up. I learned how to play baseball and how to wear lipstick, to trade sports cards and to create the perfect outfit. Those experiences allowed me to explore who I wanted to be without being forced into the sex I was assigned to at birth. Yet I am still a woman. Something I am proud of, but that often comes with discomfort.
Innocence, I believe, is a defining characteristic of elementary school, one that was stolen from me as my body began to change well before the other girls in my class.
Suddenly I was worrying about whether or not I could wear a shirt without a bra and avoid ridicule. My body was turning into one of a beautiful young woman yet I was ashamed that I looked different. It took many years and lots of introspection to become confident in the body that had once been picked apart and made fun of. By high school, I looked like a woman, often mistaken for someone years older than her true age. With a body resembling one that is desired by men, an image heavily influenced by the media, I found myself in many situations that made me incredibly uncomfortable.
Something I discovered as I was free to explore my gender was that I love high heels. They make me feel like a badass, like I can conquer the world, but sometimes it draws unwanted attention. Sophomore year of high school, I worked as a hostess. Every once and awhile I liked to wear my favorite pair of heeled boots. One day, I heard a car pull up next to me. The window rolled down, revealing a man at least twice my age. He was slimy looking: greasy hair, slanted grin, creepy eyes. He made an attempt to start a conversation and when that failed to get my attention, he continued to drive alongside me, leering at all the parts that were not his to look at. Didn’t he know that I was someone’s daughter, sister, friend? With one prolonged look, he managed to make me feel exactly like those kids from elementary school; self-conscious, uncomfortable in my own skin. Yet this time it was not because I looked different but that I looked a certain way, that I had external qualities that he was attracted to. To him, I was a challenge he felt urged to conquer with stares as sharp as daggers.
That was the first time that someone had really looked at me as though I was an object, a piece of meat, existing solely for his pleasure.
Unfortunately, it was not the last time. When I go somewhere alone, especially at night, I feel as though I am always looking over my shoulder. There is an almost constant fear that I will end up in a situation that I will not be able to remove myself from without physical or emotional harm. I am not alone in this fear. Many young women don’t feel as though they can walk alone at night or have one more drink at a party or let their guard down in the slightest.
There are almost constant news reports about women being taken advantage of. In particular, the case involving Brock Turner has stuck with me. The young woman he sexually assaulted let her guard down for a minute to have a good time with her younger sister, never once did she suspect she would end up in the hospital with no recollection of the night before. More often than not, the victim is blamed. “She should have dressed more conservatively,” “she should have drank less,” “she looked like she was into him,” “she was kissing him.” None of these are excuses for sexual assault yet they are used over and over again. The problem with excuses is that they add to the fear of being alone at night or at a party. If I am taken advantage of because I chose to wear a low cut top or had one too many beers, who will believe that I was not asking for it?
All types of media have a huge influence in shaping our perception of women, especially for young men.
Songs, movies, shows and video games as well as social media create an unattainable image of what a young woman should look like and the activities she should partake in. Being the older sister of two brothers, fourteen and sixteen, popular culture that objectifies women terrifies me. My brothers have hearts of gold but a constant stream of obscene words and images mixed with a healthy dose of peer pressure can potentially lead to regrettable decisions for any young man. Even if this barrage of negative imagery about women doesn’t lead to physical action, it creates a disconnect as well as a lack of compassion and understanding. It desensitizes men to the humanity of women and creates a forum for incidents like the Brock Turner case to occur.
Recently, I was in the car with my group of friends, headed to watch the sunset at the Marin Headlands. As we made our way through the rolling green hills, one of my friends got very excited about the new Tyga song called Pleazer, rumored to be about Kylie Jenner, his then girlfriend. As the song started, we were all silent listening for the first words, intrigued by what might be said. “I know a little bitch by the name Shanelle, always wearin’ Louis but fake Chanel, I’m just tryin’ nut like Chip and Dale.” My first reaction was one of disgust. Why did he have to be so crude when making his point? Yet as the song went on, I got carried away by my friends enthusiastic responses. A few days later, I decided to go back and listen to the song again. As I sat there and really listened to all the lyrics, that initial disgusted feeling came flooding back. This “artist” had written a song about getting with a girl, using the most crude imagery possible. He sings about how this young woman is a “dick-pleazer”, implying that her purpose in his life is to do as he wishes sexually.
Not only does a song like this create a standard for how men view women but also how women view themselves. As I got carried away listening to the song, many young girls get carried away with creating an image that they think is is the most pleasing to men. There are twelve year old girls who are wearing short-shorts and more makeup than I think I have ever owned. They have cellphones and social media, giving them access to not only to the negative view of women in pop culture but to predators. There’s a huge pressure for young girls to grow up fast and participate in all these abhorrent activities so that they can be considered cool. Watching girls struggle to find their place in a world that does its best to confuse them at every turn saddens me deeply because women are truly more than the sum of their external parts.