what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?
i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?
a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?
in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.
girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.
there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.
for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.
something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.
is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.
most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."
a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.
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Its kind of insane how people react to Dreamwastaken has become the litmus test for me.
A video essayist makes a snide comment about him that's easily disproven with basic research and suddenly all of their information is now suspect because they couldn't even be trusted to do that much.
A tumblr post makes fun of him for being assaulted and now everyone associated with that post has to be blocked because they're not allies anymore if they only want the 'correct' and 'good' queer people to be safe.
People who claim to be kind will laugh at the trackers people have placed on his car and ignore the FBI agents who had been assigned to protect him because its just some guy, surely the death threats and the doxxing and the harm wished on his family is okay. Its not like he's done anything to 'deserve' being safe in his own home.
(and I could go on and on about what good things he has done, disprove every awful thing that's ever been said about him and anything he's ever been accused of, but that's not what people care about. They don't want another human being with all the complicated nuances that entails, they want to feel like they're punching up at an evil, and whats more evil than someone 'cringe?')
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everyone talks about the clothing store and honestly everyone is expected to wear stuff from that store and you're a little young and curious, and what's the harm of looking. it's in all the magazines and everyone knows okay some of the things are ugly but! like generally everyone thinks we should be wearing these clothes. they're elite. they're precious. they are a symbol of wealth and status.
you walk into the clothing store and see a very nice sweater and you've been wanting to stay warm so you pick up the sweater. it turns immediately into a horrible fizzing froth, rushing over your skin, faintly acidic. it's tacky, it leaves behind a residue. horrified and a little ashamed - did you do it wrong? - you reach out blindly and your hands find a shirt. that one dissolves too. you think of the phrase you break it, you bought it. how much money did you just accidentally spend on that shirt and that sweater, both things that you'll never be able to wear.
more confused than anything, you turn to the first person you see, but she's experiencing the same thing, her brows furrowed. "i've been here since i was 13," she says. "one of these days i'll actually get to try on something."
you were raised with horror movies, so you look for an escape instead of trying to stay. you go to the front desk and wait in the front line and when you finally get to the front, a very angry man is sitting there, scowling at you. "i think your store is broken," you say to him. "i can't pick up any of your clothes. they don't work."
it is as if you have said something vile. every person within earshot takes a step back from you. the man gives you a cool look. "these clothes are good for you," he says.
"no, i know that," you've read about them, "but i can't seem to actually hold them."
again, everyone seems to think you've said the wrong thing. some of them are holding shirts, so obviously some clothes work. those are the people you hear whispering first. lazy. someone murmurs. i managed fine, you hear. i just had to keep trying.
the man taps a sign next to him. in big bold print: not everyone can have this.
"okay, um. if you're not going to be helpful, i'm just going to... not buy this," you manage, feeling yourself flush with heat. why are you so embarrassed? their clothes are the thing that aren't working.
"i don't have time for people who don't dress themselves well," he says. "it's disgusting."
you don't know what else to say because actually you dress fine, you're pretty sure, you're just not in their clothes. you leave the store.
but your hands are still tacky from before. you find yourself weirdly sensitive about your clothes. maybe you should go back in, try again? there were people who were able to make the clothes stay present, you might have just been doing something weird.
plus there's the rest of the world. how people look at you in airports. how shame rushes over your cheeks during job interviews, worried you don't look "professional" enough. the people across you are all wearing those clothes, and you're not. in the doctor's office, the nurse's eyebrows skyrocket. are you sure you actually went into the store and tried on the clothes? you're staring at her - i'm here to see about my cough, not about my wardrobe.
but of course it fucking matters. when you google it, you find out that most people can only hold onto the clothes for about two years or so, and then they fizzle out too. that the clothes only "stick" for 5% of customers. it just means that any person in those clothes matters more. it's a scarcity. at first, you're horrified by the idea of something that almost never works. but you learn it soon enough: being in the 5% means you have taste, class, are exceptionally pretty.
you try to ask why exactly it's these clothes, but you usually are answered with an eye roll. you ask why the prices are so high. why nobody seems to care about the way their clothes leave that weird strange residue for years later. there's a sizing chart online you find, hoping it might explain your weird inability to lift anything. most of the news articles all read the same thing - this chart was made by someone cruel and definitely isn't accurate, but for some reason it is still used as our golden rule.
so you go again. you fall too. it's worth it to try. even kind of ironically. even kind of privately, shamefully. this time you go and manage to hold onto socks, but it means you sometimes get that strange residue on your floors. you get used to the tackiness after a while, but when you manage to hold onto pants, you discover the tackiness spreads. sure, it's irritating - this sense there's a barrier between everything you touch, even you and your friends - but it's worth it, because people notice you're in those pants. and you don't want to be one of the 95% who lose them after all this fucking work you put in, so you let the tack get all over everything until it dries down into a fine powder that coats your floor in a brick red flurry. when you walk, your footprints look bloody, so you just learn to step gently.
and since it worked for you once, like gambling - you will come back. you will teach others how to get into the store. you will tell your own children - oh, you just have to keep trying at the clothing store. you will let others treat you badly when you are not wearing the right things. you will spend all that money over and over and over again and you will feel ugly if you are not wearing their brand. you are simply treated better if you dress like this. you feel better if you dress like this, secretly winning over your friends who are between sizes. it doesn't matter how much time you spend at the store, missing birthday cakes and parties because you're trying to make a dress look nice before dissolving. what matters is that when it works, all that relief and joy and peace rushes in. when it works, people finally love you again.
the diet industry promises you - it'll all be okay, once you're thin.
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