Implications of the slut label continued
After reading more follow up writings on the New York Times article, turns out there's much more I want to say and personally share.
Only this time I'll just obsess on my relationships with women. It took a deep sigh before I can begin. Friends are there to open up to when things are going bad. But will I ever open up to them about the times I go to a quiet room or go between the sheets and feel different in any way from it? I've tried. And then I'm reminded of the countless times (joking or not) my own high school friend called me a whore, a prostitute, and a slut. It was an abusive friendship alright, built on competition and backscratching to get through the honors track. You know what? It fuckin hurt, and it still makes me wince, so much that I can't be the best friend I know. I tried to reclaim it, to think that there's another message beneath the word, that maybe it really meant that I'm pretty, attractive or different in a good way, with an observer's opinion to back that up. But take bad experiences with the opposite sex, and all that reclamation effort goes out the window. Do I become the easy girl who just becomes so ridiculously irresistible for many reasons, including the "she'll take the blame if anything goes wrong" reason? Or do I become the one that scares guys (not men) away from ever getting involved with me for the long term?
It's frustrating, and even more frustrating that I can't go to anybody to cry and feel better about it. Why? Because I would have to be incredibly stupid to bring pain upon myself, as if I knew smoking was bad, but I did it anyways because I wanted to; okay, having sex has ridiculous consequences, but I did it because I wanted to. I could tell my closest friend that I didn't want to put out with someone who points fingers at me because he cheated on his girlfriend, because he was unattractive and shady. But it was so tough to tell her about how another tryst didn't work out, because I wanted to get physical more than talk about the world. It really was my fault that I was in a lot of pain, the kinds only sluts would bring upon themselves. It's like they forget that emotional attachment exists, and women are more susceptible to it. Goodness knows I did, and I can't live with being stupid. Not me.
I wanted to trust my closest friend so bad, but after having a previous friend do something as seemingly menial as calling me a slut, I'm afraid that even the closest friendships aren't immune to causing pain on one another, and I'd rather not take that chance. There are a variety of incidents that leave me feeling great or feeling cheap and tawdry, or some combination of the two, but because I know there's the danger of being called a slut, I find it tough to even talk about it and vent honestly. So if you know who you are, be careful of who you call a slut. For someone who knows better, I'll try to watch my mouth too.
My new standard: I will not befriend anybody who calls me a slut and worse, means it. I will not spend the night with someone who thinks I'll do it with anybody. And I will not befriend control freaks who always want the upper hand with me and may even maintain it by using moral issues, and, you guessed it, by calling me a slut. And I'll try to make it a habit not to use it inside my head, especially not on myself. That is my solemn swear, to refrain from using slurs.
Only this time I'll just obsess on my relationships with women. It took a deep sigh before I can begin. Friends are there to open up to when things are going bad. But will I ever open up to them about the times I go to a quiet room or go between the sheets and feel different in any way from it? I've tried. And then I'm reminded of the countless times (joking or not) my own high school friend called me a whore, a prostitute, and a slut. It was an abusive friendship alright, built on competition and backscratching to get through the honors track. You know what? It fuckin hurt, and it still makes me wince, so much that I can't be the best friend I know. I tried to reclaim it, to think that there's another message beneath the word, that maybe it really meant that I'm pretty, attractive or different in a good way, with an observer's opinion to back that up. But take bad experiences with the opposite sex, and all that reclamation effort goes out the window. Do I become the easy girl who just becomes so ridiculously irresistible for many reasons, including the "she'll take the blame if anything goes wrong" reason? Or do I become the one that scares guys (not men) away from ever getting involved with me for the long term?
It's frustrating, and even more frustrating that I can't go to anybody to cry and feel better about it. Why? Because I would have to be incredibly stupid to bring pain upon myself, as if I knew smoking was bad, but I did it anyways because I wanted to; okay, having sex has ridiculous consequences, but I did it because I wanted to. I could tell my closest friend that I didn't want to put out with someone who points fingers at me because he cheated on his girlfriend, because he was unattractive and shady. But it was so tough to tell her about how another tryst didn't work out, because I wanted to get physical more than talk about the world. It really was my fault that I was in a lot of pain, the kinds only sluts would bring upon themselves. It's like they forget that emotional attachment exists, and women are more susceptible to it. Goodness knows I did, and I can't live with being stupid. Not me.
I wanted to trust my closest friend so bad, but after having a previous friend do something as seemingly menial as calling me a slut, I'm afraid that even the closest friendships aren't immune to causing pain on one another, and I'd rather not take that chance. There are a variety of incidents that leave me feeling great or feeling cheap and tawdry, or some combination of the two, but because I know there's the danger of being called a slut, I find it tough to even talk about it and vent honestly. So if you know who you are, be careful of who you call a slut. For someone who knows better, I'll try to watch my mouth too.
My new standard: I will not befriend anybody who calls me a slut and worse, means it. I will not spend the night with someone who thinks I'll do it with anybody. And I will not befriend control freaks who always want the upper hand with me and may even maintain it by using moral issues, and, you guessed it, by calling me a slut. And I'll try to make it a habit not to use it inside my head, especially not on myself. That is my solemn swear, to refrain from using slurs.
posted by Dawn at 1:12 PM
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