Yesterday was International Women's Day. I was lucky enough to be involved in an amazing festival at my school to celebrate the day. A few days before the festival we had a launch party with an open mic.
You may remember from my first post that starting this blog was the first step in my journey to greater boldness. In keeping with that tradition and in the spirit of feminism I performed at the open mic night.
I decided to share what I said then with all (five) of you. I wrote this because men regularly ask me why I have short hair. Or they go for the more subtle, but just as offensive, "have you ever had long hair?" with an implied "you'd look way better that way" following in the next breath.
So, this is a thing I wrote.
To the boys who cried when I cut my hair. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot that I’m supposed to have long hair because it makes you more comfortable. I’m sorry that you had to take me out of your spank bank. I’m sorry that I forgot for just one second that I exist solely for your viewing pleasure. I’m sorry you stopped hitting on me in bars and whistling at me in the street and groping me on the dance floor.
I like football and Star Wars and whiskey and really dark beer. And I’m sorry that it bothers you so much. But, I have some questions for you. Are you that challenged by a woman who wants a little space in “your” arena? Are you afraid I’ll be a better football fan? A better consumer of Scotch and stout? That I’ll rock this haircut better than you ever could?
Because what you forgot is that I’m proud of being a woman. And I’m proud of the stereotypes that come with it because I like dresses and lipstick and jewelry and I really love shoes. I’m a really good cook and I could waste an entire weekend watching terrible romantic comedies. I know every word to every Taylor Swift song ever recorded. But my gender isn’t in your stereotypes. I’m sorry you didn’t realize that being a woman doesn’t come with long hair. See, I don’t want to be androgynous or masculine. I don’t want to be like you. I want to be feminine, but I want you to stop telling me what feminine looks like.
At the end of the day, we both know this isn’t about my hair. It’s about women doing things they haven’t done before. And this isn’t about attraction. It’s about fear. Fear that women might really be the equals of men. If we can have your hair, maybe we can have your jobs and I think that scares you. And I think you’re a coward if you’re not willing to stand up and fight me for it. I think you know by now that I’m not really sorry. So, to the boys who cried when I cut my hair, go ahead, call me a feminazi, call me gay, call me ugly. I don’t care what you think, remember? I cut off my hair even though you told me not to. And then I did it again.