It’s my birthday. Well, it’s not really my birthday, my birthday was tuesday, it’s saturday now. I had some people over to my house to have a tea-party. I’ve always struggled with birthdays, since I get overstimulated so easily. I’ve ended a lot of birthdays crying, but I was determined not to this time. As people dripped into my living room, I suddenly noticed I was the only woman there. I didn’t mind, but it’s the kind of thing that pops into my head sometimes. Ima showed up later, but it struck me as odd at that moment, being the only woman at my own birthday party.
It was an astonishing success, by which I mean I had some fun conversations and drank a lot of tea. I had said I would portier at Koorbeurs afterwards, which I was nervous but excited about. I like portiering, but I was flirting with getting overwhelmed by planning two things in a row. I debated cancelling, but I felt good. I felt really good. Even during my shift, I never felt that itch in my brain that said it was too much.
I was still riding that high when I was smoking outside afterwards. It had been a pretty long time since I’d actually enjoyed my birthday. I felt like I had beaten the system somehow, like I had finally figured out a sum that was bothering me.
A man sat down next to us.
We were talking about voting, and he told us to not vote PVV. We laughed and said that we weren’t planning to. He told us he was muslim, and how if he was in charge, all of the Netherlands would be muslim too. It started being less funny. He then made a comment about how women should not be allowed to speak in public. I tried arguing (it’s what we’re told to do, ‘keep opening the discussion’) but I noticed he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking at Patrik, who was right next to me. Suddenly it was like I was not there anymore. I heard ‘But I like what she has to say!’ next to me. It was meant as a defense of me, but I hated that the conversation was suddenly about me instead of with me. Like I was some hypothetical talking point.
The man said ‘In my country gay people get thrown off the roof!’, we left.
People checked in on me, let me rant. I was more shaken than I thought I was initially. I ended my birthday trying not to cry.
I always walk home from Koornbeurs, I like being able to clear my head after a busy night. When I said this to my mom, she asked if it was safe, I replied that I wasn’t sure. I get catcalled sometimes, but it usually doesn’t bother me. Maybe it’s my fault for liking red lipstick. My grandma said she used to get offended when people didn’t catcall her, she doesn’t get that I don’t feel the same.
I try not to think about statistics when I’m walking. I read somewhere that only 2% of rape cases end with a conviction, and that’s people willing to fill in a survey. When I was a teen I used to get shocked how many women experienced sexual harassment, now I’m not so shocked anymore. I think about my friend from theater who had a man stalk her, how casual she was about it, how she was 14.
I think about my other friend from theater who is dead now.
I have a bad habit of listening in on conversations. I like how it makes me feel included in a world that is usually both very different and very similar to mine. I like listening to people talk about their family drama, or political opinions, or who they fucked recently.
I was getting coffee in the Fellowship (chocolate milk, I’m not allowed to have coffee, but I hate saying I’m getting chocolate milk). Two guys in front of me were talking about how the faculty wanted to install a minimum amount of women. I personally think this would be a good (temporary) measure, but I know it’s controversial. One of the guys was making some interesting points about how the entrance exam is based on previous ‘model students’, which are mostly men. The other was not as interesting to listen to, mostly kept repeating the same thing about ‘equality’ and ‘fair chances’. I could tell he wasn’t going to be convinced, and so could his friend, because the tone of the conversation shifted to something more joking.
‘Well, at least with more women, there would be more to fuck around here!’
I got my hot chocolate, and continued working. This wasn’t the first time I heard that sentiment.
I’m in the Koornbeurs. I’ve been ranting about feminism again. I wonder if I’m boring the person across from me. I notice I’m telling a story I’ve told before. I realise it happened almost a year ago. Sometimes I wonder if I’m being dramatic about these things. Is it really so bad that men look at me weird sometimes? (I think of the man who stared at me for 2 full minutes on the dancefloor, I tried to move my hips less afterwards). Attempting to wrap up the conversation, I say something like ‘Ugh, I just really hate men haha’.
Now he perks up, ‘Why do women say that?? It’s not like we’re all creeps or something! Generalizing like that does no one any good!’ I guess he has a point, and I’m too tired to argue right now. So we change the subject to something less heavy (for me at least). But it sticks in my mind. Why do I say that?
I’m terrible at hating people, even when I want to. I just don’t have the disposition or the energy for it. I don’t hate any of the men in my life, I don’t even hate their masculinity. I only ever really hate concepts, like ‘littering’ and ‘fascism’. It just happens that sometimes, that concept is a type of people.
I like it when feelings have a use. When I feel like they make sense in the context and help me with handling it. ‘Hate’ for me is more a type of expressing my discontent with a situation than anything else. ‘I hate men’ is both a vulnerability and a shield. I acknowledge that this system has hurt me, and I resent it. I could say ‘I hate the patriarchy’ or ‘I hate sexism’. It’s technically more true. I just can’t shake the feeling that I don’t feel threatened by ‘the patriarchy’ when I walk home alone at night, it’s not the one walking behind me.
I’m walking home with Ima. Some kid on a fatbike goes past and yells ‘Homos!’. This is the second time this has happened, we must make a cute couple. I turn to Ima and say ‘God, I hate men so much.’ She looks me in the eye and says ‘So true bestie, same’.