I refuse to be limited by the so-called confines of being a woman.
When I was little, I played with Minnie Mouse stuffed animals and pretended to be Mickey. I’d throw on the suit jacket with tails that Santa brought me at age 5, flip the tales out, sit down at the piano, and proceed to tickle the ivories in hopes of tickling the fancies of Minnie Mouse.
As an adult, I feel this urge to be a provider: get a good job, with good pay, to provide for whomever I discover is my other half. I want to holler “Honey, I’m home!” when I park my eco-friendly hybrid in the garage. I can’t fulfill this image yet, as I have yet to graduate college, find my other half, or get a real job. But it is in the sketched drafts of my future.
Those actions demonstrate traits typically attributed to men, in the strictly defined gender space that society gives those with dangly genitalia.
However, I’ve always considered myself a woman– never had the desire to change my sex by surgery or hormone means. It’s just by default I have inverted parts down there.
Beyond that, I’m me… and my sex/gender/equipment doesn’t matter to me.
But that’s not how the world sees it.
Last night, I went out in Vigo with some friends and we were waiting to unite our group with another group in a central, well-lit area of town. It was me, Very Short Spanish Girl #1 (VSSG1), Very Short Spanish Girl #2 (VSSG2), and my Short Puerto Rican (SPR) roommate. A group of young, harmless Spanish rascals came up and talked to us; one of the boys was overly friendly and bothersome, but they got bored of our unresponsiveness and left. Then a drunk, late 30 something, unshowered, heavier, swaggering man came up and put his arms around VSSG1 and SPR and pulled them too close to him for anyone’s comfort.
I immediately jumped in his face, poked him forcefully in the chest and commanded “Vete. Vete. Dejalas. Dejalas ahora.” (Go, leave them alone right now.)
The 3 Spanish speaking women around me started yelling at me to stop, but they were just white noise to me. The creeper and I got into a yelling match in English cuss words (he’d figured out my accent, I can’t help it) as the 3 Spanish girls pulled me away from him.
VSSG2 scolded me. “It’s people like you that cause wars,” she said.
I apologized for my slightly belligerent behavior, but said my only intention was to protect them.
SPR reminded me that it is dangerous to mess with men like that, what if he’d done something to me and I couldn’t defend myself?
VSSG1 said that if you just ignore them, they get bored and go away. It’s safer that way.
I felt like a disobedient dog with it’s tail tucked between its legs. Then I reflected.
So… I’m a woman. I’m just supposed to allow creepy men take advantage of that fact? If I had been a large muscular dude in that same situation, would my defense have been seen as noble instead of impetuous? What if I had done what the other girls later recommended, and just ignored him? Would he have left eventually? Or would he have done more than just drape his thick greasy arms around my small friends?
My instinct was to protect my friends. Better me than them. I probably had enough adrenaline to defend myself if I had needed, but I certainly wouldn’t gamble on it. I also couldn’t linguistically defend myself, given the language barriers. The only reason he could curse in English is because America penetrates the world with entertainment, and he picked up on the bad words because he was a bad man.
The end result was no harm done in this case.
There are countries in this world where women are worse than disrespected– mutilated and mistreated like trash, which is far far worse than a creepy drunk guy. But even in societies considered developed and forward-thinking, we obviously have a far way to go towards equality.
I’m not going to stand down and let men think it’s ok to disrespect women.
Because I am a college dropout, I obviously have a lot of time to facebook stalk, and then stalk your blogs. and then comment.
So, you know how I love you because we have the same names and weirdness and when I dance you think I’m HAWT and don’t say ‘not a bad body, but not a cute face’ which is what boys say? So yes, I love you. But dear lord, do I hate what you wrote here.
I’ve reread this, and maybe I missed something, or maybe you just forgot something. But I don’t see people being upset at you because you’re a woman going up against a man, but rather you are simply going up against a man. What if it were a man with your two short friends, and he acted like you did? If I were one of the short friends, I would be upset at Hypothetical Male Friend (HMF). I wouldn’t want confrontation, period, no matter who was doing it. Its not a matter of gender, but of decorum. Maybe you don’t approve of your friends’ passive nature, but I their judgement think it had less to do with your boobs, and more like not wanting to deal with any blood.
You seem upset with stereotypes, but in the very first paragraph you align yourself with one. You state that their is this masculine streak in you to protect. Why is it masculine to protect? Mothers are the ultimate definition of femininity, but if protection is a masculine characteristic, then why the phrase ‘like a mother bear and her cubs’? Furthermore, there are quite a few girls in hetero relationships who are hell bent on protecting their boyfriends from Women Willing To Be The Other Woman or perhaps protecting their boyfriend’s sensitive nature (lots of boys love cuddling. or so I hear. ) Who says providing protection is a masculine trait?
Maybe you’re the one with bias.
I still love you though See ya Stateside
I stated that in our society there are strictly defined gender spaces. Using that duality as a springboard, I explored the gender dynamic. It is so hard to discuss gender without first determining within what parameters you define gender. I tried to make it clear I was using the traditional stereotypes as the base point.
I very much appreciate your comment. However, I wasn’t overly confrontational with the guy. His insistence to stick around escalated things very quickly. But if he had initially backed off, which is ALL I asked him to do, nothing would have escalated. But he stuck around insisting on being a pig. I understand not dealing with blood, but my friends shouldn’t have to deal with his unwanted, way too close presence either. In other words, I wouldn’t say that I was “going up” against him, but rather just trying to get him to leave.