When faking it is no longer an option – I couldn’t care less what men need. I used to. A lot of women still do. But now I’m raw with my absolute unadulterated belief of I don’t freaking care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t effing care. Am I a feminist? A lesbian? A man hater? Not a lesbian, although I have kissed a few girls and liked it. Definitely not a man hater by design, but over the years, especially lately, I’m just over their smug asses and the insurmountable headstart and privilege they enjoy at our expense. So no, not a man hater, not really. Who am I kidding? You know me love dem long time.
Feminist is loaded. I live for the power of the girl. Of the woman. That’s how I describe it. So no labels will stick here.
My father would say things like “when two men are talking,…” you can complete the sentence, the implication clearly being that that was an occasion requiring the ultimate reverence. What? With all due respect daddy, eff you. My mom constantly said “you are a girl!”. Yeah mom, my vagina sort of made that clear. To her this meant I should not have that one bad thing, the ultimate sin: Desire. Desire to be free. To play outside. To hang with boys. To run fast, climb trees, party, rebel. Play my way and win. With all due respect mom, eff you.
My husband’s mom clearly convinced him that he’s the center of the universe. I don’t blame her because I am aware it was a different time and lord only knows how she managed her sons and a husband whose career took him around the world while she stayed home and served. Well, she did. And it resulted in two entitled sons for whom listening to a woman is more foreign than listening to the whispers of their pet parakeets’ ancestors. Get me? Yeah, never gonna happen.
What’s Really Happening Here?
Everywhere I look I see women serving. Wives. Girlfriends. Colleagues. And let’s not talk about tv. You know the series Suits? This Donna chick. The worst thing ever! They glorify her as if she is loyal, has Harvey’s back, some kind of smart, definitely reliable. But underneath it all, all I see is an expert server. She serves Harvey, and I hate it. He’s the big man, balls swinging all around his corporate law town, and she cleans up his messes, anticipates his messes, rubs him down good, and is there for him if he ever wants sex. Donna, with the absolute disrespect, eff you.
I won’t fake it anymore, I can’t. I am over men’s needs and wants. I don’t care, and am not here to serve you no matter what your mom taught you, no matter what the Donnas of the world led you to believe. It is definitely time for you guys to pull up your big boy briefs and stroke your own egos, make your own decisions, and get off of our backs, because we are done carrying your. Get over yourself because I need room to breathe. Dammit, I’m a girl!