Happy fall, y'all! It is my absolute favorite season and I'm so pumped about my favorite month and sweaters and decreased humidity (where I live) and crock pots and candy corn and colorful leaves and hot beverages and crisp mornings and all the things commonly associated with this beautiful time of year. I friggin' love it. Before I was pregnant, and especially when I was in my peak training condition (read: back when I weighed a whopping 99 pounds), I was cold all. the. time. Once I got knocked up and packed on some extra weight (that apparently has no intention of leaving me any time soon), my thermostat changed. Now, I can't handle the heat. I schvitz above 65 degrees and drag my feet to go anywhere that requires pants. I rarely wear a winter coat in weather that normally dictates one and I dread the advent of summer. I dream of a white Christmas. And Mardi Gras. And Fourth of July. I not only prefer fall weather these days, but my body evidently mandates it.
However, the season has brought with it a few disturbing events this year. Just turn on the news to be emotionally crippled by the images of helpless Rohingya mothers weeping over their starving children, or tune into the heartbreak felt by all the families of the Las Vegas shooting victims. It's messed up. I hate it. I look around me and, though I normally feel like we don't have much because we live in a little two-bedroom townhouse, I can only think now, We could fit another family of refugees in our living room, and maybe another family could sleep in the basement. They shouldn't have to worry about their kids starving, or having to sell one to traffickers in order to feed the rest. We have plenty of pillows, blankets, clean water, and access to education; our income could cover enough rice -and more, if we were smart about it- to feed a significant number of people. I have two functioning hands. What use are they if I'm not using them to share Christ's love with the forgotten and mistreated people of the world? If only we could share some of our blessings with them--
And then it ends. Because it doesn't work that way. And I feel almost as helpless as the mamas who can do nothing but hold their dying babies.
While this scenario rips my heart to pieces as a mother and as a human being, there is another source of evil that has preoccupied my mind this week: the causes of the #metoo movement.
Ever since the news of Harvey Weinstein's inappropriate conduct and alleged rapes, social media has been absolutely inundated with women sharing stories similar to those of Weinstein's victims. Stories of rape, assault, and harassment fill our newsfeeds and shock us. Let's face it, most of us never knew that this friend or that relative had ever experienced the horror of sexual assault or the shame of harassment. In fact, most of us probably don't even consider ourselves as unfortunate as the women (and men) who have shared some of these stories, until we reflect upon it further...
Think about it ladies. Have you ever received an unsolicited -and inappropriate- comment about your appearance? Has a teacher or a boss ever made you feel uncomfortable about your body? Have you ever been the recipient of an unwanted touch/sexual act from a stranger or, perhaps even worse, a trusted friend? Have you received a cat call, or been approached in a way that made you feel unsafe? Chances are, even if you haven't been raped in the "traditional" sense, you have answered yes to at least one of these questions. If you did answer yes to any of these, I sincerely doubt you enjoyed the experience at the time, though you probably didn't even dwell upon it after the fact. It's just one of those things that happens and women, as young girls, just learn to accept it as part of the normal behavior of men.
As I considered my own life experiences, I realized that I answered yes to every single one of these questions. It wasn't just a one-time occurrence in my life, but more of an ongoing aspect of my life. Sadly, I think I'm in the majority on this. I am so grateful that I have not encountered any violent attacks, though some did have the potential to turn gruesome. (Forceful? Yes, some were. Violent? No. Illegal? Borderline.) Still, I count myself among the #metoo women. I don't particularly like discussing the details of my experiences and this post is certainly not a platform for me to get into all that, but I hate the fact that few of these events even stood out in my mind as bad -or even memorable- moments in my life. In fact, I have even laughed about a couple of them! How could this be funny? Probably because it is so pathetic that we have to laugh about it in order to get through it. What enrages me the most is the fact that I considered them par for the course, as perfectly normal for the average American woman to have experienced by the time she reaches her thirties.
Now, before you get your panties in a knot, please know that I am in no way "anti-man". I have a loving husband whom I adore, a dad who continues to spoil me rotten, and a precious baby boy who, despite the fact that he is a biter, is far from a violent criminal. I don't get all pissy when a man holds a door open for me (quite the opposite, in fact) and I don't feel that we should get so litigious that men become afraid of approaching women. You can't arrest someone for making an immature cat call or telling a woman she has a nice ass. (Well, I suppose you could, but I can't imagine that things would improve that way.) I have been fortunate enough to have met lots of perfect gentlemen who, despite my irresponsible choices, continued to treat me with respect and dignity. (Oh hell, let's call it what it was: Idiot Anouchka drank too much on occasion during college, and some guys were not assholes about it.) What I'm saying is this...
No adolescent girl should be made to feel uncomfortable because her pervy gym teacher makes an "innocent" and flirtatious come-on. The lack of a definitive "no" does not mean "please continue." No high schooler should have to lose friendships because of something a couple of her male friends did. A moment's hesitation from one person does not equal a green light for another. PDA is one thing (annoying!), but being molested in public by a friend is never cool. Having to look over her shoulder every time a certain color car drives by her apartment is something no woman should have to do.
Here, as a little interjection, is my absolute favorite metaphor for anyone who is confused about this stuff:
What needs to change is the culture, the mindset that we instill into our children. Let's drop the whole "boys will be boys" bullshit and teach our sons what it means to be a man of integrity, a man who respects women, a man who respects himself. Let's teach our daughters not to be victims, but to be strong; independent, but appreciative of kind gestures; proud, but not prideful. Until we can do this, we will have to continue to live under the illusion that this sort of behavior is not only normal, but perfectly acceptable.
And guess what. It's not.
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