I Still Need Feminism Because

At age 8 when all the boys would pick on me and my friends at school we were told that if they were mean to us it meant they liked us.

And at age 10 when I was in the GATE program at school, I was told by my peers that I was “pretty smart for a girl.”

And at age 11 when I joined the coed school soccer team, the yearbook only took photos of the boys. It had looked as though the other five girls and I hadn’t even played.

And at age 12 when an acquaintance of mine had a pregnancy scare, she was called “slut” while he was called “the man.” And the sick part is that he was the one who pressured her into sex.

And at age 13, when a different classmate actually did get pregnant, she had to leave school because of the rumors while he got high fives and fist bumps.

And at age 15 when I was sitting in math class and the boy behind me kept trying to hit on me even though I said “no,” he didn’t like that. And when I told him to leave me alone he resorted to touching himself IN CLASS while moaning in my ear. And I was too afraid to do anything.

And at age 17 when I lost my virginity, I had been programmed to think that girls who like sex are lower than dirt and I cried when I got home.

And at age 18 my friends and I should have been excited about becoming “adults” but when we talked we swapped self-defense tips and what kinds of pepper spray we carried on us. We were not excited because we already knew what growing up felt like.

And at age 19 when I was raped I was told it was okay because we were dating. That his callousness were signs of affection and protection. That if he is mean to me, it means he likes me.

Am I making myself clear?