For most of us, Gendered accusations were part of childhood. Being yourself was never easy, and it was normal to hear terrible things, even though they shouldn't have been said. Here were some of my favorites -
Control your temper, you’re never gonna get a husband with that attitude. What are you talking about? I’m 12, and I don’t even like boys yet. Marriage is a million miles away. And what attitude?
Keep your legs together! You’re a lady! Like I’m the biggest five-year-old slut to walk the streets. Scathed and ashamed. I didn’t even think my knees were that far apart. Am I that hopeless if I can’t even tell when my knees have appropriate (not)spacing and distance?
Smile better! Your smiles are always so fake! I didn’t know I was smiling bad. I didn’t even know you could smile bad. My smile is fake? Am I fake? Am I that hollow and empty inside?
Keep yourself covered! I can see too much skin! Any more material draped over my body, and I’d be a nun. What skin? My ankles? The lower half of my arms? My neck? Am I a slut because you can see little slices of my body? I thought this t-shirt looked fine.
Stop eating so much. You’re gonna be so fat! No one is ever going to want to marry you. It’s dinner time. I took a serving of chicken, and a mountain of peas. Are you telling me that I’m going to become obese over a mountain of veggies? And are you telling me that at eleven years old, my future husband already doesn’t want me because I eat too many peas?
You better have better grades! OR ELSE! Or else what? Will I die? Will the house catch on fire? Will I be a complete social outcast if my grades aren’t supreme?
You should be more like THIS girl - she’s going places. That’s so funny because you don’t know her like I do. To you, she’s perfect. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect soccer scores. But she’s actually kinda mean, and bitchy, and (Heaven forbid me for judging) slutty…. so if you want me to have lots of sex, and have a bitch switch, sure… I guess I can. But I actually like being the shy quiet girl that reads a lot and has a small group of friends.
If only you would try harder. Try harder than already my best?
You don’t know what you’re talking about little girl. I’m sixteen years old. I wear a bra. I drive. I’m responsible for more things than I was when I WAS a little girl. And how do you actually know if I’m right or not?
You better get a good job so you can put your husband through school. Well, what if I want to go to school?
