Nasty Women

When I was a kid, I was the good girl type.  Until one day, I got busted in class passing notes with cuss/crass words on them back and forth with a boy.  Candidly, I didn’t know what the words he used meant… but he was cute. 

When I got a little older, I knew if I said one of those “bad” words, I was doing something rebellious.  Sometimes my friends and I would bust them out just to feel grown up.  They were “adult words” but truth be told, they weren’t even words the adults around me used.   The adults in my world had nothing to prove. The adults in my world had wide vocabularies and class. They could fully express themselves and talk about adult subject matter and still maintain refinement. 

The thing about vulgarity is that for most people, the novelty wears off when we grow up.  The use of these words proves nothing except possibly that we lack the creativity and class to have conversations of substance and meaning. 

I fear that much the same principle applied to those that attended the misnamed “March for Women.”  Given everyone appeared to be angry for different reasons and the march itself had no centralized purpose, it left a void that vulgarity filled.  Sign after sign used words and images that should make us cringe.   Rather than symbolizing some liberation of women, it should embarrass us.  Does it represent our gender to be unable to express our specific, legitimate concerns with this administration with civility?  I get that our new President hasn’t exactly set a high bar in this arena.  I just find it odd that those that dislike him so much gladly follow him into the gutter.

Rather than organizing an anti-Trump rally, organizers tried to make it the summation of what it is to be a woman.  The only problem with that plan is that in today’s gender-confused society, it’s very hard to describe what it is that makes one a woman.  If visuals in D.C. yesterday are any explanation, womanhood comes down to the existence of a uterus and the ability to kill the next generation of girls.  This left the march with conflicting messages because on the one hand, it is the uterus that defines “womanhood,” but on the other hand, even a uterus doesn’t guarantee your exclusive stake on a women’s locker room or shower room.   

Ultimately, this left a march celebrating the taking of human life, sporting Cecil Richards as Grand Marshall.  Pro-life women knew this all along because we were shut out of the march, even though we have uteruses too. 

Organizers and attendees alike were thrilled with the turnout but I suspect, deep inside, they just wish the majority of white women had turned out for Hillary, not Trump in November.  Because it is in fact women, defined somehow, that handed Trump the Presidency in the first place.