Love Letter from the Trenches of the Culture War and Across Enemy Lines

I came into this world knowing that I existed so other people could hurt me. I am here so other can people can do to me what they want. So that they can inflict pain on me and derive pleasure from it.

This is what it means to be a woman.

I am here so that I can be subjected to other people’s sadistic whimsies. As a woman, this is my role in society. This is what is expected of me: that I will cower, that I will shrink away. They show me pictures of what it means to be a woman, shrouded and stuffed into a room in a house where no one can look at me, or out in the world, raped and mutilated by the male gaze. I have been told every day that this is why I am here. So that I can serve you, even when it hurts. So you can make me suffer, and so you can enjoy making me suffer to your own ends of satisfaction.

I hear this. I hear it every day. They tell me my body doesn’t belong to me – it is a vessel of everyone else’s pleasure, no matter what form that pleasure takes. I must supplicate myself before men so that the world can go on for everyone else. Except me.

But I am not in the mood to supplicate myself. I never have been. I never will be.

I am not in the mood to hand over my body and my autonomy in the name of the greater good. There is no greater good if there is no goodness left for me. Fuck the greater good – if I suffer, you suffer with me. If I have to die here, I will take you all down, too.

The knife at my throat is a dare to win the fight. I am naked and bleeding and tied up in the basement of society, but I have found the loose knots and I am eyeing the door. I will make it out of here alive. With all my teeth intact. I am smart enough to survive you and all your goons, the cronies of capitalism and hierarchy and white male supremacy. This is a zero sum war, and you decided how you wanted to die the day you said it was okay to treat me and all of us like this. You have gave me the gift of the taste of blood the first time you spilled mine, and I am living to know what yours tastes like.

I have a feeling you can’t fight when you’re tied up on the floor. We will see if my intuition is right.

 

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