If you don’t feel like reading some bitch’s rant or hate speech towards men. You should stop reading this post… right now.
I must confess, I’m not too fond of the male population of late, but tonight was just the pits. So I love to meet some friends for dinner and drinks on a week night, to blow off steam. You na mean? Our conversations vary from work, travels, pop culture and dating.
I’m legally obligated not to be violent. Since your ass will be jailed if you hit or kick anyone, in Japan. But my friend made a comment that made me almost backhand her. She said and I quote: “I can’t be picky with the guys I choose. I have to take what I can get.”
This just pissed me off. My friend is beautiful, funny and smart. Yes, she’s not a size zero. But fuck, I’m so tired of us (women) allowing society’s (society which is in fact: men) standards of beauty determine how we see ourselves. I want her to know that she is beautiful, and that she should value herself more, and go for the guy she wants. And not the first sleazebag that talks to her. I understand how she feels because I still struggle with this issue as well. Why don’t we as women value ourselves more?
So this got me thinking…
Why do men get to set the bar of what is hot or not?
Shouldn’t we as women set that bar?
It is our bodies!!!!
Is a size zero really that sexy?
When I developed breasts. Men just felt it was ok to be creepy. I remember an older man that was an uncle of a close friend, just ogling at me.
How could I ever forget those lust-filled eyes. His wife who was usually nice, began to act dismissive towards me. At that time I thought, so this is what its like to be an adult woman. You lose all sense of logic. Your husband is lusting after a fifteen year old child but instead of giving your husband a firm talking to, and protecting an innocent child, you choose to see that child as a threat. I knew that I didn’t want to grow up to be a woman like that, and I definitely didn’t want to marry a creep.
We need to know that we are worth more than that. I think it’s normal to feel attracted to someone of an appropriate age. And I plan to very much still check out Korean ass when I’m fifty and happily married. But you have to be respectful towards your significant other, and not drool all over yourself in front them. Decorum! You need to act appropriately.
Let’s go back in time. To the exact moment when I started hating myself. At thirteen, what did I know about the world? I was a blank page that thought life would be like the movies. One day, you see the boy of your dreams, magically one night you would confess your feelings, and he’d feel the same way too. You’d kiss and promise to be together forever. You’d graduated from university, and overnight you’d be the CEO of your own very successful company. I didn’t know what the company did, all I knew was that I was well off, and was getting married to the man of my dreams.
Puberty was seriously awkward. I had to accept that blood would be gushing from my vagina once a month. My hormones were all over the place, I would have a break out of zits on the day of the dance. I just started crying for no reason. And at my high school, the guys were real jerks.
One day while we were writing an essay or doing a worksheet or something. I don’t remember. It was about where we would be in ten years. I remember asking the teacher how to spell ‘fiancé’. And then some boy, I don’t remember his name or his face. Anyway, the little fucker burst out laughing and said, “Like you’d ever have a fiancé!” that was definitely the aha moment for me. It wasn’t a good one. It was the moment that I thought, “Ahh, I’m not pretty. So why would anyone want to marry me?” As I’m typing this post I’m searching my brain for his name, but honestly it’s not coming to me. I hated that boy for five years. I seriously hated him. I didn’t know why I hated him. I just did. And thought that every other male in my high school thought I wasn’t pretty or skinny enough to date.
Ironically, in my final year of high school, we worked backstage on the school play together. Once the play ended. He hooked his arm around my neck, and said to me and the rest of the backstage crew, “Are you ready for the after party?” I was livid. why was this arsehole touching me and acting all friendly, when we were mortal enemies. Then I had another aha moment: he didn’t remember what he said to me all those years ago. Back then, he was a stupid thirteen year old boy that didn’t really understand the gravity of his words. And I was suffering for the last five years for no reason. Instead of suffering, I should’ve just told him then and there while he was laughing at me to fuck off. Or just came up with a witty remark that would’ve made the class laugh at his stupidity.
I wish my mother encouraged me more to confess to boys. Rejection is part of growing up, and maybe back then the guy that I liked, possibly liked me back but I was just too indifferent to realise. But I guess she was too caught up in her divorce to notice that I was seriously fucked up about my body and boys. And I wish my father would’ve told me I was cute. If he did, maybe I would’ve believed it. Since he was the most important man in my life. I’m past my adolescent years where my parents were responsible for my wellbeing, so now I have to take full responsibility.
I’m not sure if my relationship with men got any better in university. I made many male friends. And started dating guys. Some were nice, but a little boring. One guy I used to liked for a while was really wishy washy about dating me and in the end called me a whore. And then there was him: I was in my last year of university sitting in the backseat of my friend’s car, and the guy I liked at that time was sitting beside me. He was a cold guy by nature. But I thought I made a breakthrough. Because he was sitting next to me. And he didn’t look disgusted. So that was a step in the right direction. Suddenly, he turned to face me, and looked me dead in the eyes, and said: “I like flat-chested girls”.
I was gutted. You’re confused, I know. Let me explain, I’m a little or should I say alotta gifted in the breast department. Thus, he was saying indirectly that I was not his type. Back then, young north was naive, cried herself to sleep that night. Not knowing that she had just been wronged. Where have their (men) manners gone? If a girl likes you, and she has yet to confess her feelings. You have no right to reject her. Yes, it might be awkward when she’s being Bella from twilight, breathing heavily in your ear, or watching you from around the corner.
But as a gentleman you endure. And when she finally gathers her courage, and confesses. As a gentleman, you put her down gently. And lie. Firstly, you thank her for her confession. And tell her that her feelings make you happy. But unfortunately, your heart belongs to another. Why do men need to make us cry? I get that rejection sucks, no matter what you say. But some guys are real douchebags about it.
Talking about douchebags. I think I’ve met the king of all douchebags. I really didn’t want to write about this. But… its time.
One morning while sitting on the curb in front of a konbini in Osaka. This was 8am, and I was eating my breakfast, waiting for my friend who needed to use the loo. A man walked by and looked at me strangely, but I was completely used to people staring at me by now.
I am a foreigner living in Japan, you know. So I didn’t really pay too much attention to him. After ten minutes he returned. Walking with purpose towards me. He said, in Japanese of course, very enthusiastically that I had large breasts. At that point, I was ready to cut a bitch. This fucker thought it was ok to approach me and disrespect me.
He didn’t stop. I pretended that I didn’t understand Japanese. Then he said in Japanese, “oh, you don’t speak Japanese.” so he changed tactics, he gestured showing that I had large breast. I said no, and tried to shoo him away. Then he said: touch, touch. Suggesting that he’d like to touch my breasts. Shocked, I said no. This guy was persistent, he then said, “Touch me”. I said no. then “suck…suck”. I got the feeling that he learnt a few English words from porn.
“No. just go!”
And so he left.
I don’t know what the fuck was going through that bastard’s mind. Thinking that I’d lie on my back in a cheap hotel with an ass like him. Do men no longer respect women? Or did they just never respect us at all. We are only their whores, baby makers, and are meant to wait for them as they search the streets for their next lay? I was ready to lay my best fighting technique I picked up from street fighter, shoryuken, on him.
How dare he make me feel so cheap? How dare he not respect me? I was pissed that after believing that I’m so strong, I was so weak in that moment. When I told my friend about it, she said I should’ve given him a taai klap (a slap in the face). I was just shocked that he had the audacity to do what he did out in the open, with so many people watching. Even if I did punch or kick him, I’d probably be convicted for violence, even though it was in self defence. I don’t think I’d ever felt as far from home as I did that day. And yet, I’m not sure if I would’ve reacted any differently back home．
After the ordeal I told one of my Japanese friends, and she confessed that a similar incident happened to her. How many more women are there that have shared our experiences or have had worse done to them? Why was it ok, for men to make you feel dirty and worthless? Women! We need to empower ourselves. We should learn self defence.
And the laws need to be changed. We need to take harassment more seriously. Our governments should punish these individuals that think its ok to harass unwilling participants. And I believe that rapists and child molesters should serve at least twenty years in prison.
Do you understand why I occasionally hate men? I think they’re lovely to look at, but they just know how to piss me off, especially when they suggest women are the weaker sex. We are strong too you know. So what if I’m scared of spiders. There is nothing wrong with preferring not to be within a five meter radius of one. So yes, I would like my father to kill them for me. And now that I live on my own, I have to kill spiders that get in the way of my happiness. I can do it for myself. But do I want to kill spiders? No, I don’t. Would I like someone else to do it for me? Yes, I do. I don’t care if you’re a man, woman or alien. I just hate spiders, and wished they didn’t exist. Does that make me a weak woman, no its makes me human.
Back to my friend. I hate that she’s beating herself about guys not liking her back but maybe he doesn’t like peas! After crying about some boy my sister gave me some good advice. I didn’t understand it at the time but now being older and a little wiser. It makes more sense. I know that this is a very hard concept to understand. But just think about it logically. What food don’t you like? Well, I don’t like peas, I can’t stand that shit. And I’m quite relieved that you won’t find that shit in Japanese dishes.
Let’s say that people are food. Maybe to him you are peas. And that has nothing to do with you. He just doesn’t like peas. So whenever the guy I like rejects me, I cry myself to sleep for a few nights, and then I just tell myself that he just doesn’t like peas. And that’s ok. I’m going to wait for someone that likes peas. I don’t want one that’s dreaming of strawberries, when I’m just mushy peas. But if I were a food, I wouldn’t be peas. They taste disgusting. I wouldn’t mind being pumpkin. *drool*. Roasted chicken, and potatoes, with a side of rice, and a dollop of pumpkin. Yum! I miss Sunday lunch.
If I could give advice to young north, I’d say: don’t wear short skirts. If people around you can easily see your knickers. It is too short! What is wrong with wearing a skirt/ dress that is five centimetres above your knee. If you like that short length, wear leggings. They’re both appropriate and fashionable. Why do you need to demean yourself by wearing ridiculously short skirts? For who? Boys? Love yourself more. Laugh more. Be silly. And I’d tell her to be brave. If you like someone, become his friend first. First check if he’s a nice guy. Then, Confess. If you’re rejected, at least you had the balls, unlike most adults, to go for what you want.
Right now, I don’t hate men. I just don’t trust a large faction of them. What I realised is that stupid boys grow up into stupid men. Your happiness should not be wavered by their words. You need to love yourself first. Every morning, stand in front of your mirror, and look at that face looking back at you and truly believe that she (YOU) is beautiful.