my feminism trigger

I'm not a feminism apologist. I don't feel the need to assert that "oh, no, I'm not a femi-nazi" before I say anything regarding equal rights for women. Still, I've never really considered myself a feminist. Because, frankly, that's never where my real passion for equality has lay. I've always been passionate about lgbt rights (perhaps as a reflection of which of my own personal identities I take to be more prevalent or important... I don't know.) (Although in a chat a few nights ago, Nonboyfriend's girlfriend pointed out to me that she's always considered me a feminist precisely because I was so adamant about queer rights. She considers them inherently connected, and I think there's something to be said for that... Aside from the sometimes stereotypical feminist disavowal of automatically equating feminist with "man-hating dyke." But that's a whole other post.) So for something to trigger my feminist rage, it generally has to be pretty agregious. Or at least really, obviously, patently sexist.

Which I encountered this evening.

I was pulling into the parking lot at my neighborhood Target. The parking lot was somewhat busy, but my mom's boyfriend (the only other person in the car with me) noticed a spot in the aisle over, so I went to homestead until the SUV parked in the spot finished backing up. Because of the location of the spot and the terrible turning radius of the car I was driving, my first effort at pulling in placed the car diagonally across the spot. (I am admittedly terrible at parking in normal spaces, though I'm an EXCELLENT parallel parker... which is weird, I know.) But I knew I was going to have to back out and 3-point the turn, essentially. So I put the car in reverse but kept my foot on the brake, and looked behind me, and checked both mirrors. On my left, there was a cop SUV, patrolling the lot, but waiting for me to finish adjusting the car before he passed me. On my right, there were two pedestrians who had stopped, a car away from me, to let me continue readjusting. So I pulled the car halfway out and back into the spot significantly straighter. (But still not in the center of the spot. Because, literally, I'm incapable of it.)

And as I got out of the car, I noticed the cop was still idling directly behind my car. With his window down. I made passing eye contact, but didn't really pay any attention. Until he called out at me from his car.

"Hey there, you be careful with those pedestrians, OK sweetheart? We wouldn't want you to hurt anybody."

SWEETHEART?... Sweetheart?! I just stared at him, flabergasted. "Yeah, uh, can do," I managed, without any intonation.

"OK, well just be careful, honey."

I didn't look back as I speed-walked to the door, but my mom's boyfriend pointed out that the slimeball stared at me all the way to the door. As soon as the door shut behind me, I started muttering "Sweetheart? I'm not your fucking sweetheart. Don't fucking call me sweetheart."

Now, I realize this doesn't carry over as well in text, because I can't get the proper inflection. And his words, if they were said differently, could have been a simple caution. (That I didn't need. As I'd checked for pedestrians before I had pulled back out, and even made eye contact with the ones who were clearly waiting for me to finish parking before they walked behind my car.) But this wasn't polite advice. It was the condescending, you-clearly-don't-have-the-mental-capacity-to-comprehend-parking-a-vehicle-because-you-have-breasts kind of tone.

I'm not sure I should need to mention it, but just to prevent trolls, I was wearing sneakers, jeans, a knee-length white peacoat and a mid-cut v-neck sweater. Definitely NOT overtly sexy or inherently bimbo-esque. (As if clothes were a determination of intelligence, anyway.)

But I was steaming about the "sweetheart" comment for a good few hours. I've cooled down a little, and there's a possibility I was being too sensitive... But I was genuinely offended. I haven't had anyone speak down to me like that in a LONG time. And I've been going car shopping lately... which, for my female readers who've done that, I can imagine you know what a point of reference that is. It was just so blatantly condescending. And yes, it DID feel like it was related to my gender. Admittedly, had he not said "sweetheart," I likely wouldn't be so put off. I still probably would have thought it was probably unnecessary to roll down his window IN THE SNOW to caution me against something I wasn't at risk of doing, and might have grumbled a bit, but you likely never would have heard about it here.

So, THAT'S what it takes to pull my feminist trigger.

/rant.

such. bullshit.

Yup, the title hopefully accurately conveys how emo and whiney this post is going to be. I apologize in advance, I'm just pissed off.

So, this is precisesly why I KNEW I couldn't live at home. To bring everyone up to speed, I've graduated and moved back about 10 days ago. Since then, I've been staying at my mother's house, with the express understanding that it is a temporary setting until my roommate returns from across the world in a few days. I figured I could handle a few weeks here - after all, I hadn't been home in something like four months... so no big deal, right?

Wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong.

At the moment, there are four of us living in the three-bedroom condo - myself, my 17-year-old sister, my mother and her freshly-minted serious boyfriend. (Seriously, he moved in after something like two weeks of them dating. Nice one, mom.) It's a three-story condo, although the basement has a crack in the foundation and floods every time it rains, so basicaly it's a two-story condo. In any case, it isn't especially cramped with the four of us. My sister and I each have our own rooms, so there's some level of privacy. At least ostensibly.

So, a few nights ago, a friend of mine from high school came over after we'd spent the evening out with some old mutual friends (more on that in another post, perhaps). I should preface this all by saying that there has never been any kind of sexual activity with this friend. I dated his best friend for quite a while, and actually, when we were freshmen in high school, he had a crush on me, but that's the extent of our romantic entanglements. We went to a tiny high school, and as such, are still both friends with several people from that school. We all hang out together somewhat frequently when we're all back in town. Nothing new there. After hanging out with friends at a bar and then at another friends' house, he and I came back to my house to finish our six-packs. By the end of those, we had concluded that neither of us should be driving. We came upstairs, climbed into my bed, and went to sleep.

I texted my mother in the morning letting her know my friend (who she knows well) was in the house so she or her boyfriend wouldn't be startled when she saw him walking around. My sister had been outside drinking with us the night before, so she already knew to expect him. As it turned out, no one was awake by the time I walked him to the door and said goodbye.

Then last night, this same friend and I got together at his house to watch a basketball game. After a heartbreaking loss, we came back to my house together with a bottle of wine and a few beers to drown our sorrows. As the temperature had cooled off to almost chilly, we decided to hang out in my room instead of outside. My mother and her boyfriend were home and expecting us as I'd texted them, so we said hello and went upstairs with the wine and a couple glasses. Being friends for so long, we're quite comfortable with each other, and conversation comes easily. We talked all the way through a bottle of zinfandel, and soon needed something else to drink. We went downstairs to get our beers from the fridge, where we ran into my mother and her boyfriend again.

My friend has apparently started hooking up with someone back at school (he goes in-state), and had a fading hickey on his neck. My mother's boyfriend asked him what it was. My friend shrugged (he hasn't told me the details, either), and said he didn't know. Then my mother's boyfriend leans over to my friend and says "how do you guys kiss with that thing in her mouth?" (Referring to my lip ring.) "Don't it get in the way?"

And then I just about died. I didn't even know what to say. I was fucking mortified. And embarassed, mostly for putting my friend in this super-awkward situation. My mtoher finally caught on and said something like "Uhm, honey, I think you may be implying things that aren't accurate..."

Her boyfriend kept chuckling and probing at us. I just took the beer and bolted upstairs. My friend and I were able to basically laugh it off, but that doesn't mean it wasn't exceedingly awkward, and we both drank our beers a little faster than we needed to. About 3 am, we went to sleep.

I took him home in the morning, and then came home and took a nap because I'd only gotten about four hours of sleep. Somewhere during that nap, my little sister came in to my room to close the window because it was raining outside (and she apparently concluded I couldn't do it myself? Whatever.), and asked why I was so tired and who I had over last night. I told her, and pointed out that my friend and I had been up late talking, like we always do. "Uh huhhhhh. Talking, I'm suuuurreee." She giggled.

And then I wanted to throw something at her.

I'm not sure why this particular reminder that my family thinks I'm a whore was so upsetting. I mean, I've known they thought that for some time now. But there was something particularly offensive about them both assuming that, clearly, if I had a friend over, I must have fucked them. Because I can't keep my hands off anyone. I am some voracious sexual carnivore. Or at least a cheap, easy slut.

I was particularly put off by my mother's boyfriend. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, and he lacks some serious social graces, but it's hard for me to believe he even had a right to comment when I've known the man for 10 days. I don't think a week and a half of knowing you gives you the right to comment on what you percieve as my promiscuity. (According to my mother, he has a serious problem accepting non-monogamy, even in those relationships around him.) Sure, I guess I wouldn't have a problem had he just said something to my mother about it in private, or even, maybe, asked me about it... NOT in front of the friend being discussed. That's just tactless. And really makes me feel fucking cheap. I mean, that's just not something you DO.

And then I'm sure my little sister was just being a shit, but it was the icing on the cake. I am SO tired of them judging me for how I live my life. Especially my sister knows that my bed is this kind of magical place - there are cuddle puddles, late-night talks, and yes, sometimes romps. But she knows about all the people I'm sleeping with - at least in some sense. And actually, at the moment, that number is only two people. So it was frustrating that she would give me shit about something she knew wasn't true.

And it reminds me so poignantly why I don't want to live at home. Having these people in my life, being able to conduct my relationships - romantic and otherwise - the way I want to, is crucially important to me. I refuse to sacrifice my relationships because someone doesn't approve. But shit like this makes me want to just run away, and never tell anyone in my family anything about my life ever again. Especially my sister is so judgmental - I haven't been able to tell her about Edward and how he's stalking me, although I really should since there's a chance he'll come back to the house. It's not because I don't want to keep her safe or informed, but because I know she'll chastise me for ever having been with him in the first place. And that is SO not the right reaction when someone tells you something like that. She just doesn't know how to do empathy. At all. And I understand that she's 17 and that means the world revolves around her, but I just can't handle it.

So I think I'm either done bringing anyone home, or I'm going to start bringing everyone of my friends home for the night, regardless of whether I'm sleeping with them or not, regardless of whether I'm even attracted to them. Maybe that would fuck with my family's head even more. They just wouldn't know how I could POSSIBLY be sleeping with that many people. Maybe because, yknow, I'M NOT.

Fuck this noise. I need to get out of this house. I'm a grown up and I shouldn't have to be curbing my relationships and the way I live my life for other people.

I should mention that overall, I'm a pretty considerate roommate/houseguest/grown daughter living at home. I do the dishes, cook at least a few times a week, help pay for groceries, am considerate of quiet hours, and clean up after myself and others. I don't think I deserve to be judged and treated like some sexually deviant delinquent. And I'm fucking tired of it.