a bitch with no name, just a face.

Hi.

Wow, it has been a minute!

Typically this blog has been dedicated to the trivial, and insignificant things that I cry about on a bi-daily (or more) basis, but recently I’ve been feeling heavy feelings of being misunderstood. It’s like my angsty teenage self has come back to haunt me. So I must go back, back again, to where it all began…

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had friends say to me, “OMG I thought you were such a bitch when we first met” or “I thought you were so annoying at first, but you’re actually really funny,” and from the boys, “I respect you, but I would never date you,” (Wut.) and finally, “I used to be so scared of you.” At least the last comment only implies an insult. I don’t want this to make friends who’ve said these things feel badly. I love you and am so thankful you could see past my hardened exterior, otherwise I’d be yellow wallpaper mad by now (look it up), buuuut, it’s a problem. It’s a problem to essentially tell someone that you don’t like the way they present themselves (a marker of oppression felt by all minorities, really). I’m not unique in this phenomenon. There have been memes generated about this topic, even RBF women bonding #solidarity, and because of this pervasive societal ‘problem’ (the bitch or the oppression? Who knows really) I found feminism.

The BITCH Manifesto. My guiding light, finally I felt understood. I had a tool, a feminist bible to help me navigate my pent up emotional angst. This article written in 1968 spoke to everything I had experienced from a world that didn’t want to accept a girl that talked too loudly, dressed too loudly, rebelled too loudly, presented herself too loudly. The repercussions for young girls who are reprimanded by this social backlash are truly disconcerting. I didn’t experience my first heartbreak from a boy, but from feeling unaccepted for who I was. A bitch.

MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD foreshadowed 25 years prior to my existence. It was my awakening. (Side note- it was only a matter of time before this blog turned into the feminist ranting of Kate Manley, which often involve tears and long winded recaps of feminist history.) I’ll be the first to admit I am not an angel, despite having gone to Catholic school. It wasn’t EVERYBODY’S fault I caught the bitchness… just all of society really. So I developed a coping mechanism that made me become very sensitive to how I was being perceived at any given moment, and if I felt it wasn’t positively I would shut down. “but it is a sensitivity the rest of the world is unaware of. For on the outside they have frequently grown a thick defensive callous which can make them seem hard and bitter at times. This is particularly true of those Bitches who have been forced to become isolates in order to avoid being remade and destroyed by their peers. Those who are fortunate enough to have grown up with some similar companions, understanding parents, a good role model or two and a very strong will, can avoid some of the worse aspects of being a Bitch. Having endured less psychological punishment for being what they were they can accept their differentness with the ease that comes from self-confidence.”-The BITCH Manifesto.

Thank you Mom. And Nana for raising 4 strong willed daughters, and for educating young women (in the 60’s!) with the knowledge that birth control was a useful tool for family planning in your Sunday school classes… until you were asked to leave. NOT ALL HEROS WEAR CAPES.

But now. It’s… cool to be a bitch? I’m confused. No, its not cool to be a bitch. It’s cool to be a ‘bad bitch’ or to ‘werk bitch’ or to ‘yas bitch, werk’ but still not cool to be a bitch… like to become the president or something because under no circumstances do NOT ASSUME PREDOMINANTLY MALE SPACES IN THIS HERE SOCIETY because, well, then you’re probably a witch, bitch. Things are more confusing now than ever before. Pop culture righteously preaches that its trendy to be your authentic self, but in a generation that has grown up with the smoke and mirrors of Instagram and Facebook how is that even possible? We have begun to curate humanity to the point that we don’t even know what true authenticity is. We have all the access we’d need the first time someone’s name even comes up to scan mutual friends (social status) make preconceived notions (judgments) of who we think somebody else wants us to think they are (nouveau authenticity)… before we’ve even had a real interaction. It’s a very convoluted methodology. I guess at least we’re becoming more aware the effect media and societal expectations have had on the development of insecurity aka the suppression of individuality. Sadly, as much as society has ‘changed’ human nature remains the same- quick to judge. Which brings me to myself, as things often do (ugh, sopranos), judging people/society. And then feeling badly because maybe I misjudged someone (I’ve been known to be human from time to time) or I was too awkward, or too mean because I didn’t smile enough. Then I feel judged because I can’t feel comfortable being myself without possibly offending someone so I’m not myself and then what was the point of even leaving the house today!? But is judgment bad? Not when someone says I’m pretty (god damnit with these ingrained standards of femininity equating beauty with self worth), but now as opposed to my teenage self who might have thrown a punch, when someone says I’m a bitch (not a bad bitch, a bitch bitch) I’ll probably cry about it. Because when you get woke, you realize that you were a bitch. We’re all bitches. Life’s a bitch!

Being a bitch gives me depth. It forces me to constantly reevaluate interactions where I felt I was being perceived inaccurately which helps me better understand myself, my intentions, and how I want to improve the next time around. It’s not within my power to control how others will see me, but I can be honest with myself about why they might have come to that conclusion. The minute we become complacent in a fixed identity, is the day we stop growing.

So what does all this mean? Idk, but it’s provocative. No, it means don’t judge a bitch by her face.

Ps. Sorry to everyone I was a bitch to in high school and beyond. You have to understand, it was society… NOT ME. Well kinda me… sorry.