December 13, 1998

Last week, I was going to come home and write a hot-headed report on my school's obvious lookist and sexist views, but I chickened out. This tiny little culture-soaked voice in the back of my head told me my vision was skewed, and it would be smart of me to think before I posted anything. So, I listened, took a week, and am now ready to express my views in a clear, less hot-headed manner. They still completely diss a lot of my school, but at least I'm more confident when I push the save button.

It's dark, loud, and constricting. Music blares, people's voices come at you from every angle, and images flash on the screens by the stage. It's a dance- whoop-dee-friggin'-doo, right? Well, that was my feeling towards it, until I decided to step back and look at the action around me. Do you know what I saw? Women barely clothed dancing on the DVD screens, girls being criticized, and at the same time glorified, for wearing shoulder-revealing clothing, and girls being ridiculed for wanting to dance with a guy. A day before, a moron had shoved a plastic tube in my back and told me it wasn't his finger, he was just really happy to see me. In my homeroom, two boys interrogated me about my relationship with a former classmate. I knew him, so obviously I had to have given him a blow-job. Obviously. These bitter thoughts flood my brain as I stand in the middle of the gym. Voices accompany my memories. "It was just a joke." "Jesus, we were only kidding." I bite my tongue, knowing that to respond to these voices right then and there would make me look just a teeny bit psychopathic.

OK, so I know the above tales of woe aren't the incredible accounts of sexual harassment that newscasters just eat up, but I can't just ignore them, can I? What I saw at the dance wasn't mysoginistic- it was lookist. Girls, and people in general, are judged by their looks constantly. Their every movement is processed by a thousand critical minds, labels are spit back out, and applied without any close contact between parties. This is the way it works, and if you want to get a good label, then you shut up and play the game. Well, the game is getting to be just a little unfair. It preaches equality, open-mindedness, and acceptance. It applies lookism, sexism, racism, and narrow-mindedness. The proof is in the things people tell me. I know a girl who believes no one would talk to her if she didn't fix her hair perfectly every day. In her eyes, dead cells spurting from the top of her head determine her self-worth. People complain about the prices at Abercrombie and Fitch, and yet they've all turned into name brand wearing zombies. Most want each person to be who they want to be, but only if it complies with their ideas of normal behavior. It is only in this high-school society that feminism can be equated with lesbianism, peppy girls are easy sluts, and the blunt truth can be drowned out by the ignorant laughter of the masses.

And it's terrible, going to school every day, wondering if some new idiot will come into your life, and how to keep from feeling alienated or betrayed when sex jokes are the best things going in these halls. After all, they are only jokes. To have any response other than amusement would be wrong- you'd be an oversensitive bitch looking for trouble. Strength of mind and respect for one's self are not qualities people like in us. Well, they aren't just jokes, and their tellers have no right to degrade women- the most popular punchline- the way they do. It's wrong, it's a crime. Of course, they don't know it. How could they, when no one has ever defined harassment for them? And no one ever will, because although it's okay to point it out when it's going on a hundred miles away, God help us if it was discovered in RB High School. Last year, they tried to have a big assembly about rape. They separated the two sexes, and gave us videos to watch. The girls took in all the information and asked questions. There was a definite sense of "it will never happen to me," but we still took what we saw into some consideration. The boys, on the other hand, threw it up as a joke. Hooting, cheering, laughing- having a gay ol' time of it. To them, it was simple. They'd never force a girl to have sex with them. If they did that, they were free to commit whatever other crime against the girl that they wanted to. And I'm not even sure of that. It kind of disturbing to know I walk the halls with people who see rape as a joke. Really disturbing, actually.

And what to do? Sadly, nothing. Being the single social outcast type that I am, it's virtually impossible for me to change the views of an entire school. Personally, I wouldn't know how to take on an entire educational institution. But does that mean I should give up, succumb to the discrimination and take it in as my own? Ummm- lemme think. Never! In my subtle way, I'll toss in my two cents in my circle of friends, maybe add a few lines about my above views in an English essay or two. If I feel violated, I will take myself out of that situation. Kind of like a skewed cross between Ghost in the Graveyard and Running Bases. A confusing game to play, but unbelievably necessary to win.

Weighty stuff this week. I remember a time when there was no depth in my life- analyzing situations was just not something my friends and I did. Every day was a blah day, and every action didn't matter in the slightest. I compare my then and now girls, and I wonder which one I like better. Was I free back then, in my ignorant bliss? Or is it better now, when even I think I know too much? Does knowledge strengthen your ties to the earth, to the society you have to live in, or does it cut the chains and let you fly away? I don't know, but lately I'm feeling awfully burdened.

Quotes of the Week From Coolsigs, "People would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity." and "Don't go away mad, just go away!" From Liz Phair (Exile in Guyville, Never Said), "Don't know what they told, don't even care what about. All I know is I'm clean as a whistle, baby- I didn't let the cat out. So don't look at me sideways, don't even look me straight on. Don't look at my hands in my pocket, baby- I ain't done anything wrong!"