Reading the flame wars that have been engendered by attempts here today to have a serious discussion of misogyny, the fact that struck me the most strongly is how difficult and rare it is for a woman to have her say without being overspoken or dismissed. As proved by one rec listed diary, a woman writing about her experiences in life with misogyny generally results in - well, I won't bother repeating it, since the other top rec diary lists all the consequences pretty well.
Those diaries caused me to to think about some of the impacts of misogyny in my own life, and made me realize that I've never had the opportunity of discussing those consequences. Those diaries didn't seem the place for such an unburdening. It occurred to me that there are likely numerous women out there with experiences that they have a need to share, and so I'm writing this diary in an effort to provide a forum for women to share their stores, whether their desire is one of unburdening herself or because she believes it might help some of the men who currently seem unable to grasp the issues involved understand some of the challenges we experience.
Therefore, I'm asking that only women make comments in this diary, that women have a place where no one speaks over them, no one attempts to hijack the diary, no one tries to misdirect the conversation, and that the comments be limited to a statement of experiences and responses to those statements. I'll begin with my own history with misogyny below the squiggle.
I'm an older, not yet elderly, woman who has been relatively successful in life, who has a happy and satisfying life and who would change very little. Nearly everything I would change has been a consequence of misogyny.
I was molested as a child for many years and made a "participant" in this by the attitudes of those around me. I actually "enabled" some of the molestation because I was so afraid of being blamed and hated if it was discovered. I knew then and know now that I would indeed have been blamed, even though I was a mere child that didn't even understand what was happening when it started. The effects of this molestation are truly indescribable, both in the extent and in the degree of harm. It poisoned every relationship I had, my level of trust in both myself and others, it fed guilt into my system for many years. And it led to my having sex long before I was ready, since after all, I was already "dirty". Which led to my getting married to the wrong person long before I was ready. And the consequences of all that - well, that's another whole story.
Then there was the "uncle" who would hold me on his lap with his hand cupping my just developing breast, right in front of my parents - who never said a word.
I was molested, although not to the same extent, again at a beach one day when a man offered to "teach" me to swim - yes, he "taught" me as he held me with his enlarged penis pushing against me. I was, in that instance, saved by an adult there, although we never discussed it at all. This, of course, further poisoned my trust, my guilt (what was wrong with ME that all these men felt free to touch me?).
Another attempt was made at another beach I'd ridden my bike to one day when a sudden thunderstorm caused me to accept the invitation of a man to sit out the storm in his car. Fortunately, by that time, I was strong enough to say no, and rode my bike home as fast as my legs would push, terrified he would be following me. But that was one of my defining moments of empowerment. Finally, some man wanted something sexually from me and I said no - and the earth didn't swallow me!
Of course, there were too many instances to even remember of complete strangers on the street telling me to smile. Women must Always have a smile plastered on their faces.
And there were all those times I made boys so damn angry because I didn't look away when they stared at me. I was the inferior being who was supposed to be flattered when they stared at me and I was supposed to show my sense of inferiority and flattery by not staring back. When I'd get tired of it and refuse to look away first, it would generally result in some pretty angry and vile comments being thrown my way. I was quickly labeled a slut, a whore, a bitch, a cunt.
Need I even mention all the catcalls when walking past a construction site? Or the fear of walking alone on campus or anywhere else, for that matter, that didn't include perfect conditions of lots and lots of other people being around in broad daylight?
When I went to the guidance counselor to discuss my interest in becoming an attorney, I was assured that there were good schools for nursing and teaching close by. I finally just quit telling anyone I wanted to become an attorney because I got so tired of the either complete silence or derision resulting from that statement. Literally no one knew my plans until after I'd been accepted into law school. When I did take my LSAT and got accepted into a top law school, my father told me that he thought my brother would make a good lawyer. I'll admit, my father was proud when I graduated in the top 10% of my class, but he made it clear that he would not be proud if I ever actually practiced law. It was fine to get an education, but going beyond that was not acceptable.
Once I had that degree and that job, it was lots of fun. Not. I literally got hugs and pats on the head from the partners. I got to listen to them talking about how they hated women attorneys because women always had a chip on their shoulder. Oh god, could I go on about how much fun I had there.
I can't discuss how much discrimination harmed me with large law firms, because I literally could not take it and opted to avoid dealing with it by going on my own. Life became much better after that, and I only occasionally had to deal with a client who, though satisfied with the work I did for them, would ask me for a referral to a male lawyer when they had a "big" case, because they just thought men did things like that better.
I don't need sympathy or understanding for anything I experienced. Others have experienced so much worse. And I made it. I'm strong. I'm happy. I no longer care about any of it. Except that I'd like my nieces and their daughters and the daughters of all the women who aren't my nieces to not have to deal with it. Any of it. And certainly not all of it.
I know there has been some progress made, but not nearly enough. Maybe, just maybe, if enough women on this site talk about what they've dealt with, and enough men here read it, at least there can be a few more men who do have a clue, and who will join the fight to change it for future generations.