Men telling women what to do — Stop it!

The Bold Italic’s article on artist Tatyana Fazlalizadeh’s series of posters

What a brilliant ad campaign: “Stop Telling Women to Smile!”

At the Betti Ono Gallery in Oakland, California through April 19th, the exhibit at the end of February included workshops and discussions on ending street harrassment for women. March and April features new artwork by and about local Oakland women.

If you are not a woman or have never had some random, strange man tell you to smile, you just won’t understand why this could be even remotely important to women. Well, I think most of us are just plain tired of men telling us what to do. Really, we are.

The Bold Italic’s article features three of Fazlalizadeh’s posters that compliment the theme aimed at stopping street harrassment, telling men to leave women alone: “Stop Telling Women to Smile,” “My Outfit is Not an Invitation,” and “Women are Not Outside for Your Entertainment.” Brilliant, all three.

In my 53 years I have had men touch me inappropriately, invite me to sit on their laps, want to keep me (as in mistress), expose their genitals to me in public, received many, many sexually inappropriately compliments, been hit, shoved, told I should wear my hair short, should wear my hair long, dress differently, get a job, not work, not to smoke cigars, not to drink, that I should drink more, that I speak too loudly, that I should speak up, and so much more. Oh, so much more. And then there are the oh so many times I have been told to smile by men. Never by a woman. Just men.

I had never really considered the implications of that seemingly innocent request before now. I know that it really irritates me when a man says that to me. I know that, depending on my mood, I might smile (like a good girl) or give him a scowl that makes his testicles shrivel up. It could go either way.

As we celebrate Women’s History Month, let us consider how and when, as women who have the right to self-determination, we want to smile. When we damn well feel like it!

Earning the right to be heard — controlling interactions

I had a situation last fall with one of my sons where another family got involved.  They handled the whole situation badly — in other words, in their eyes, I was not necessary to its resolution even though I was the parent.  One of the parents hung up on me after we spoke (we were fine while she did all of the talking, but after I started speaking up it all went downhill), neither would then return my calls, and I was treated with general disrespect and rudeness.  This is a Christian family. I have news for you: Christians are just as messed up, if not more messed up, than non-Christians (oh wait, you already knew this).

I received a very, very long letter from one of these people today.  Here’s the thing:  I read the first sentence and stopped.  It was not, “I’m really sorry for being rude and disrespectful to you.” So I folded the letter and put it back in its envelope and stuffed it in my book bag (I was in my mythology classroom waiting for class to begin).  I didn’t give it another thought until I was driving home.  Remember, I do a lot of thinking in the car.  I thought and I thought.  I came to a conclusion:

I do not owe this person a moment of my time.   I do not owe her a hearing.  She still has never asked me for any input on the situation, over and over again contradicted my own knowledge of facts on some continuing issues (this is one reason I am considering a career in the law — like attorney law, not cop), and has not shown any remorse for her behavior after five months.  Why, oh why would she write me a letter?  I haven’t read it, so I don’t know.  She has not earned the right to be heard by me.

Yep, I made a decision.  I might read this letter someday, but right now I do not have the emotional energy to deal with her.  I do not owe her a hearing.  I owe her absolutely nothing and that is what she is getting.

I decide who gets a little bit of my very small, sometimes very fragile emotional reserves.  That is a part of my power, and I am holding onto it while I grow a little more powerful, a little stronger, a little less fragile.

She has not earned the right to be heard by me at all.  Not at all.

P.S. A year ago I would have read the letter right there before class began, let it suck me in, upset me, and dominate me.  I am learning more and more about boundaries.  I feel like this is a big deal for me.

P.S.S. I have decided that Americans are extremely rude (yes, I am an American so I can say this).  Oh, that pride.