A BITTER FEMINIST'S CALL OUT

It's hard to think back to the day I was forced to wade through a swamp just because I was fleeing from some good-for-nothing men who were leering at me without getting triggered.

And isn't it cute how the society overlooks the offence of the abusers and places the responsibility of decorum on the people addressing the issues? 

I mean, people can openly hold retarded opinions about women, religious leaders can unabashedly wave the misogynist flag, friends, family, everyone can go on overtly endorsing the prejudice against women, but it is you at receiving end of the unfairness who has to sweat over your posts, straining out harsh words just so you don't come off as being surly. 

Every time I've tried to write about this incidence since it happened 4 months ago, I've always felt an overwhelming surge of bitterness and sadness at my own vulnerability. Honestly, it's not every day you have the strength to overcome the enervating realization of the fact that your basic rights are mostly curtailed just because you happened to be born with a vagina.

I enjoy walking— a lot. It's probably why I could never get fat no matter how much junk food I ate. On this particular morning, I slipped out of the house to take a stroll around the estate. After I had exhausted myself rounding all the streets and corners, I was finally heading back home.

Now, I was at that part of the estate that wasn't so developed and had more uncompleted structures than occupied buildings. Most of the buildings were also partially obscured by tall bushes as it was rainy season. 

I passed some construction workers at a site and they began to catcall. I ignored them and doubled my pace, knowing full well that if any one of them decided to take his mischief a step further, it'd take a while for me to get help at that part of the estate. The only house in sight had no signs of life in it. This was in the morning, around 10 a.m.. They all had probably left for work. 

To make matters worse, I had a swamp right ahead of me, but with the persistent catcalling at that quiet part of the estate, without thinking twice, I made straight for it. I could easily have made a detour for a better route, but some randy goats had taken away my power of choice. I was too busy trying to NOT get sexually assaulted.

PC: Unsplash.com

I'm taught to be petrified about moving at night because if I get raped, then I called for it ("wetin she dey find?").

I have to keep away from strolling through my estate during the day just because some men are working there and if anything goes wrong, it would be my fault.

I have to fuss over my outfits because a psychopath may latch onto that as an excuse to take sexual advantage of me, and it would be my fault for turning him on with my dressing.

But when women turn on their abusers with knives, then their actions become condemnable NO MATTER WHAT the other party (often their spouses these days) has done.

Clearly, most men don't understand these issues and are not even ready to empathise with them until they are dished a bowl of their own broth.

I often see some of them blab, some of them cocksure that women doll up because of them, for instance, and wonder if they even understand the totally undignified state of their existence. That a lone female pedestrian would notice a man around her and the first thing that will register in her mind is fear; not one borne out of reverence or awe, but paranoia, a deep-seated consciousness of his brutish tendencies leaves much to be desired.

I shake my head when I see them prance about feeling like trophies and convulsing each time a feminist so much as coughs. They have several canopies under which they hide. Religion and culture are the most obvious two. Oh, but there's humanism, too (ndi humanist-not-feminist). Fine-faced and bearded weaklings with overbloated egos stroked for too long by a prejudiced society, feeling entitled to women's bodies and women's deference. (I hope I find enough motivation to write about my experience with some silly IT students—all male—at my training someday soon)

Sometimes you are not even interested in a gender war, but the society forces you to pick a side and stand for something. And when I walk during the day or at night, I'm never afraid that my fellow sister will maim me or rape me. 

So I'm not going to bury my head in the sand and pretend that this is a love-and-light post asking men and women to do better. I'm speaking out as a WOMAN, calling MEN out on their misdemeanours and demanding better from them.