In a post on the social media platform X, far-right political pundit Nick Fuentes wrote, “Your body, my choice. Forever.”
Some might argue that statements like these are being shared by just a few loud outliers. But if history has taught us anything, it’s that we should never underestimate the power of a few. It could also be said, and has, that these kinds of slurs are just rhetoric — merely sticks and stones — but comments like these are lighter fluid for hate. This is just one of several misogynistic comments making the rounds on social media.
So what is it like to be a woman right now? I can’t answer that on behalf of all women, of course, because I’m a white, cis, straight, married, middle-aged woman living on a beautiful Island among a community of mostly loving people. I’m fully aware of my privilege. But I have a daughter of color, who is of childbearing years, and loved ones in marginalized communities whose safety, choices, and rights are under threat. It is impossible for me to feel content when others do not. I may live on an Island, but I am not an island.
The day after the election, I was so angry my hands were shaking. Humor and anger have been my co-pilots since childhood. While humor is appreciated, anger is not an emotion most people are comfortable with, especially women’s anger. But if we are not ruled by it, anger can motivate us. The anger I felt on Nov. 6 lasted 24 hours. The next day a cloud of sadness rolled in, and though I’m still able to find flowers among the ashes, that sadness lingers.
The bar set for women is incredibly high. Recently, I read a post by an actor who had stopped working so he could raise his kids. He received thousands of lovely comments, heart emojis, and likes, which he rightly deserved. I simultaneously wondered, why do we gush so effusively over men when they do the right thing? I commented how happy I was to hear that he made this choice, and that his kids would surely benefit. I also pointed out that women have been giving up their careers to raise their kids forever. While my comment received many likes, I was still attacked by several readers. Some responses were directed at mothers. They were brutal. I was taken aback by how many people were so eager to praise this father, yet so quick to eviscerate mothers.
It wasn’t until 1974 that women were finally able to apply for a credit card or a loan without a male co-signer. For every dollar men earn, women are still earning only 84¢. Pay inequity is even greater for Black and Hispanic women, who are paid 36 percent less than white men.
“At the current rate of progress, it will take another 131 years to achieve gender equality worldwide,” notes FOCUS 2030. Women in many countries don’t have access to two-thirds of the legal rights available to men, one in three women globally have suffered physical and/or sexual abuse, 800 women die every day worldwide from complications related to pregnancy and childbirth, 40 percent of women live in countries where abortion laws are restrictive, and 270 million women have no access to contraception. “Nearly two dozen U.S. states have banned or limited access to the procedure. States where abortion is most limited report higher rates of maternal and infant mortality, as well as greater economic insecurity,” CNN reported.
Some inequities are quantifiable, but we overlook seemingly benign language and behaviors that negatively impact women. We just can’t quantify them. Comments like “You throw, run, talk, act like a girl” come to mind. I was at a football game once, and I overheard a father snap at his son, who was having a bad day on the field, “Are you a football player or a freaking cheerleader?” This man also had a daughter, who happened to be a cheerleader for her brother’s team. I saw her flinch. Comments that perpetuate sexist stereotypes send a clear message that girls are inferior. When I was a kid, if someone said, “You throw like a girl” to a boy, it was the absolute worst thing you could say to him. Being a girl was viewed as a fate worse than death.
So what is it like to be a woman right now? My therapist says there is a communal numbness among her female clients.
The poem “Not Waving, but Drowning,” by Stevie Smith, comes to mind. I feel like I’m bobbing around in freezing-cold water, fighting a rip current, yelling and waving to be heard.
“Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.”
All my life I’ve never been a woman who sits on the sidelines or remains silent. I recognize real power isn’t always the loudest voice in the room, and right now I don’t have the vigor I once had. That’s not a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of exhaustion. And that’s OK. We can learn from exhaustion. It forces us to stop, breathe, listen, and to sit in whatever emotional space we find ourselves in. Women will keep moving. We always do, but before we’re asked to “keep fighting the good fight,” we ask that you read the room. Many of us simply need some time to sit in the woods and grieve. So let us.
To learn more, visit nbcnews.com/tech/internet/nick-fuentes, state.gov, focus2030.org, cnn.com, and theguardian.com.
