It occurred to me the other day, how I learned what it means to be a woman.
In two parts.
The first, a poem. Listed here on this blog, Kings Day. I read it at NSBE’s Love Jones in college, on Valentines Day. It was inspired by SAM who always made me feel like the perfect woman.
The second, a bit more dramatic and less glorious was also in college. Many things occurred that night, somewhere in between the intoxication and my friends getting into fights, crying, losing things … somewhere in between the mayhem of that night I realized I was leaving a house alone to go back to my dorm. I wasn't worried for myself, I mean I never really had a reason to be, but my friend had been crying and I had left her in the house without a cellphone. I wanted to make sure that she was okay even though I was leaving or at least had the opportunity to call me if the night got any worse; so I traced back our night to a house where she may have left her phone.
The house was familiar, one of my best friends lived there, his name was David. I called him, asked if I could come in to just look for the phone, he said sure- the door was open. [At this point I want to write, how much I want to preface this by saying don't worry the story isn't that bad- I’ll come back to this]. When I walked into David’s house I realized quickly that it was not empty. There were several men sitting in somewhat of a circle in his living room, I didn't know any of them… they didn't go to my school, except for one or two that were David’s roommates… David was nowhere in sight. I walked in, now self conscious and they began to berate me. Asking me to dance for them, in the middle of this circle, asking me where my friends were at, and when I didn’t respond ...as I was walking around the room looking for the phone, they began to call me other things. Some including the term “dirty”.
In most cases I’d become defensive, angry, and lash out at this group, but intoxicated as I was… all I remember feeling was small, embarrassed, scared, and belittled. When I realized that, these men were not going to stop taunting me and I was not going to find the phone, I decided to leave. As I reached the door, one of David’s roommates asked me if I was looking for sliding phone with “two bitches” on it. I said yes, and he revealed the phone in his hand. As his friends began to chant “make her work for it”, I decided to leave and he rushed to the door to hand me the phone and say sorry.
This was not a small moment for me, I’d never been in the position to be so disrespected. I left angry, and mostly at David … though he wasn’t in the room. I had wanted someone there to protect me, I had wanted someone there to tell them to just leave me alone. I was only trying to be a good friend and look out for someone who was hurting, and in the process I became the target. As my friend, I had an irrational idea that David should have been there to help me. However, I knew he had no control. He could have told me there were people downstairs and for that I was still upset, but what made it worse is when I asked him why he never came down he angrily replied to me that he was upstairs having sex.
I’ve never let this night leave me, though I thought I did. I don’t trust men. Moreover, I despised many of the men I went to college with. And as much as I hate to say it, they were the men of color that I knew, that treated women as if they were disposable. I’d watched friends cry year after year for events more volatile than the last, we were run over and run through and the worst part is! Even if I were to tell this story, my story, someone would be quick to tell me… it’s not that bad.
It is that bad. It is that bad for men to harass you, to treat you as less than what and who you are. To devalue you, and as a woman… what I learned that day is that…. we’re only one moment away from being another victim of another crime based on the fact… that we are women. On that night women were bitches, women were sex objects, women were entertainment and as for me… I was nothing and forever will remember what it feels like to be nothing in a room full of men.
What I learned on King’s Day is that I never needed anyone to tell me what my worth was, and I never needed anyone to fight my battles. But the man who made me feel like I could put down gloves, and swords, and guns and shields… the man who made me feel like I didn’t need to fight…. was the only man who ever showed me what it felt like to be royal.
And I just wish every woman has the chance to feel her crown, but too many women never will. Too many women have to keep their heads down, keep their mouths shut, keep their memories so far in the back of their brains so as not to scar their flesh. For too many women, men are not to be trusted. And I hate to be another woman who understands why.
Unfortunately, I will always hate the people involved in that night, but I won’t hate all men for it. In fact, I’ll thank my dad for always calling princess and SAM for reminding me of what a Queen could be. Without them, I don’t think I’d recognize what true beauty existed inside & out of me. Thank you.
In two parts.
The first, a poem. Listed here on this blog, Kings Day. I read it at NSBE’s Love Jones in college, on Valentines Day. It was inspired by SAM who always made me feel like the perfect woman.
The second, a bit more dramatic and less glorious was also in college. Many things occurred that night, somewhere in between the intoxication and my friends getting into fights, crying, losing things … somewhere in between the mayhem of that night I realized I was leaving a house alone to go back to my dorm. I wasn't worried for myself, I mean I never really had a reason to be, but my friend had been crying and I had left her in the house without a cellphone. I wanted to make sure that she was okay even though I was leaving or at least had the opportunity to call me if the night got any worse; so I traced back our night to a house where she may have left her phone.
The house was familiar, one of my best friends lived there, his name was David. I called him, asked if I could come in to just look for the phone, he said sure- the door was open. [At this point I want to write, how much I want to preface this by saying don't worry the story isn't that bad- I’ll come back to this]. When I walked into David’s house I realized quickly that it was not empty. There were several men sitting in somewhat of a circle in his living room, I didn't know any of them… they didn't go to my school, except for one or two that were David’s roommates… David was nowhere in sight. I walked in, now self conscious and they began to berate me. Asking me to dance for them, in the middle of this circle, asking me where my friends were at, and when I didn’t respond ...as I was walking around the room looking for the phone, they began to call me other things. Some including the term “dirty”.
In most cases I’d become defensive, angry, and lash out at this group, but intoxicated as I was… all I remember feeling was small, embarrassed, scared, and belittled. When I realized that, these men were not going to stop taunting me and I was not going to find the phone, I decided to leave. As I reached the door, one of David’s roommates asked me if I was looking for sliding phone with “two bitches” on it. I said yes, and he revealed the phone in his hand. As his friends began to chant “make her work for it”, I decided to leave and he rushed to the door to hand me the phone and say sorry.
This was not a small moment for me, I’d never been in the position to be so disrespected. I left angry, and mostly at David … though he wasn’t in the room. I had wanted someone there to protect me, I had wanted someone there to tell them to just leave me alone. I was only trying to be a good friend and look out for someone who was hurting, and in the process I became the target. As my friend, I had an irrational idea that David should have been there to help me. However, I knew he had no control. He could have told me there were people downstairs and for that I was still upset, but what made it worse is when I asked him why he never came down he angrily replied to me that he was upstairs having sex.
I’ve never let this night leave me, though I thought I did. I don’t trust men. Moreover, I despised many of the men I went to college with. And as much as I hate to say it, they were the men of color that I knew, that treated women as if they were disposable. I’d watched friends cry year after year for events more volatile than the last, we were run over and run through and the worst part is! Even if I were to tell this story, my story, someone would be quick to tell me… it’s not that bad.
It is that bad. It is that bad for men to harass you, to treat you as less than what and who you are. To devalue you, and as a woman… what I learned that day is that…. we’re only one moment away from being another victim of another crime based on the fact… that we are women. On that night women were bitches, women were sex objects, women were entertainment and as for me… I was nothing and forever will remember what it feels like to be nothing in a room full of men.
What I learned on King’s Day is that I never needed anyone to tell me what my worth was, and I never needed anyone to fight my battles. But the man who made me feel like I could put down gloves, and swords, and guns and shields… the man who made me feel like I didn’t need to fight…. was the only man who ever showed me what it felt like to be royal.
And I just wish every woman has the chance to feel her crown, but too many women never will. Too many women have to keep their heads down, keep their mouths shut, keep their memories so far in the back of their brains so as not to scar their flesh. For too many women, men are not to be trusted. And I hate to be another woman who understands why.
Unfortunately, I will always hate the people involved in that night, but I won’t hate all men for it. In fact, I’ll thank my dad for always calling princess and SAM for reminding me of what a Queen could be. Without them, I don’t think I’d recognize what true beauty existed inside & out of me. Thank you.
