Now Reading: The Injustices of Being a Woman


The Injustices of Being a Woman

December 28, 20173 min read

How come such idiotic excuses are enough explanation to justify the unjustifiable?
How come we have to repeat every single day things that everyone should know and respect, and even while doing so, those are the first things people seem to forget?
How come we have to tell adults to not do what kids understand is wrong?
How come not everyone has common sense?
“Don’t rape”
“No means no, in all situations”
“Just because that person doesn’t look like you, it does not mean that they’re evil or inferior to you”
Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t act this way…
“Don’t appropriate other’s cultures in the wrong way”
Most times something like this needs to be repeated is mostly because a female is harmed, as we’ve seen on a lot of cases recently.
I’m sick and tired of living in a world where an excuse like “I made her famous” justifies the harassment of a human being for over a decade; how it makes rape seem like a normal thing we should just accept, when it’s something wrong and traumatic.
How we tell girls to look out for their drinks and to not wear that slightly short skirt that makes them feel beautiful and confident, just because we’re scared someone will take that as an invitation for something that doesn’t give invites just to anyone (I mean, you choose who to invite to your birthday party…right?).
How the catcalling with hidden verbal abuse still happens, and it’s taken as a joke — a laughing matter.
When I can’t round a corner without a comment from a man or wait for the bus without a honk from a passing car.
How we have to put up with the fact that if something happens, it is somehow our fault for “provoking” someone, when we were just standing there, breathing, living our lives like any human being does. Not like an object that’s just there for your entertainment.
Because we can’t walk around after a certain hour, like there’s a curfew, ‘cause it’s considered dangerous.
Because no girl is respected as a professional in any sort of job, getting paid less and being treated awfully, just ‘cause some people insist we are only a baby machine that belongs in a kitchen.
Because I still have hope that this will change.
Because I hope all of my sisters and I will be free one of these days. Finally.

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Belén Villalobos

nineteen years old from ba. usually overly caffeinated writing short stories about people she sees on trains.