on the rag, love?
Women. What bitches, am I right? They moan, they nag, they’re shrill, they’re aggressive, they’re too emotional. We just can’t have them in high positions of power; they’ll let their rag decide who to go to war with because someone called them fat. Bloody women.
You may think this is a parody and, it is, but sadly, I’ve heard and read people referring to women as a whole (or, the term that makes the flesh creep right off my body – “females”) like this, in these terms and worse terms. The vilest words I’ve ever heard have been used to describe women.
I recently saw a post on Tumblr from a man, asking why women complain about their periods:
Honestly, why do girls make such a big deal about their periods? It’s just a bit of blood for a few days and then it’s over. That’s nothing compared to being kicked in the balls. – a confused male.
Damn fucking straight you’re confused, male. Luckily, the response was an elegant take-down of this question, in Powerpoint, no less. I was impressed.
Now, I’ve never been kicked in the balls, but I have been kicked in the vagina. And let me tell you, that shit hurts.
Guess what hurts for at minimum, three days, at maximum, every couple of weeks or longer? Shedding your uterine lining and fifty cent sized pieces of blood clots out of your vagina the entire day. Soaking through a maxi pad and not having any back up plans. Having to stuff your underwear full of toilet paper. Buying overpriced tampons and pads. Using menstrual cups or sponges. Every month.
Cramps that make you double up in agony, throw up and black out. Bloating that makes none of your clothes fit anymore, your breasts ridiculously sensitive to touch and your pelvis just as bad. Migraines that spike in the frontal lobe and stab through the rest of your head. Hormones racing through your body, adding to your paranoia, your irrationality, your emotions.
Guess what can be prevented for free? Getting kicked in the balls. Guess what can possibly be prevented, at a cost, which usually is regular and not permanent? Your periods. But yeah, being kicked in the balls is so much worse.
And then, we come right back around to emotions again. Irrationality again. My father’s favourite comeback to legitimate anger, a legitimate complaint?
‘What, have you got your periods or something? Calm down.’
This minimisation is seen as a normal occurrence. Hell, jokes are made about it. Women’s feelings and opinions have been discounted since, oh, FOREVER because of this.
I freely admit, sometimes I am irrational and, yeah, sometimes it’s related to my periods. But I recognise this. Men, on the other hand, are never discounted as just being irrational, and dismissed, their opinions deemed worthless all because of that particular time of the month.