To Whom It May Concern

To the doctor and nurses who delivered me and immediately wrapped me in a pink blanket to lay on my mother’s chest. From the moment I was born, I was assigned the color pink. You assigned me this color to identify me as a girl. I was destined to love pink, Barbies, and unicorns - not because of my nature or because that was what I had chosen, but because that is what girls are supposed to like. Why would we like anything else? Girls must wear cute pink dresses with pink bows in their hair.

To the boys on the playground who told me I couldn’t play with them because I’m a girl. You made me think that I wasn’t worthy enough to play with you. That you were too athletic for me to even compare. Instead, I played with girls. Instead of kickball and basketball, I went inside for recess and drew pictures. I wasn’t ready to keep up with the boys. Girls must not be as athletic as boys.

To my crush in sixth grade who didn’t like me because I had hairy arms. “Girls are not supposed to be hairy,” you told your best friend in the halls. I went home that day and shaved my arms, because that’s what girls are supposed to do. You are only attractive if you are clean and hairless. While men are deemed as rugged and attractive with hair all down their arms, I can not be. Women must be smooth and soft.

To the sorority president who taught us etiquette on how to sit and eat “like a lady”. You sat us at tables and told us to sit up straight for our “future husbands”. You said scooping my food on my fork was not “lady-like” and said I would be lucky to find a man if I didn’t change my ways. With my fingers uncomfortably gripping my utensils, I sat up straight and mimicked your words. I did not want to end up alone, and this was the only way. Women must be well-mannered and proper.

To the man who took pictures up my skirt on the subway. The people on the train who I sat next to after a spot opened up pointed you out to me and told me what they had seen. They said I ought to know, but they didn’t stop it from happening. They let you do what you wanted to do. I felt my face turn pale and the embarrassment sink in. My boyfriend at the time asked me what had happened as he sat beside me, and the anger that glowed in his face when I told him made me quiver. I made him sit down and told him to let it go. To let go of the fact that I had been exploited in broad daylight. Women must be objects for others to ogle at.

To my male supervisor at my first full time job who spoke over me at every meeting. You knew I was smart when you hired me. “You can do this”, you had told me on my very first day. It only became apparent after a few months of working when I realized the meaning of those words had been lost. You didn’t believe I could do this. My words, while I may fumble with occasionally, embarrassed you. You could do so much better as a man in power. Women must be less intelligent than men.

To the guy who bought me a drink at a bar and told me I owed him a night in bed. You told me I was beautiful. I was the only girl you had spoken to that night, and you had put so much energy into getting to know me. I told you about my past, present, and future. I told you of my goals and my education. I told you how I wanted to travel the world and how I wanted to help others who were struggling. After all of that, you looked me in the eyes and asked if you could screw me at your place. Women must pleasure men.

To the people whose beliefs of life deem more important than the right to my own body. The debate of pro-life and pro-choice is an old one. It is highly debated. The debate could dissolve this paper, so I dare not open it further. Women must succumb to the morality of man.

To the plenty of air kisses, whistles, and hollars I’ve received on the street. I remember the first few times I heard you, I thought you were endearing. I felt wanted and attractive, because gratification from men is what we’re taught to seek. But it is not cute nor charming. It is degrading. I am a person who does not need you to yell your thoughtless words at me from across the street. Women must seek validation from men.

To my past, present and future self - you are worthy. Women are not just pink dresses with pink ribbons in their hair. Women can be professional athletes and can play any game a guy can play. Women can be hairy or smooth or bumpy or anything they are or want to be. Women don’t need to be pristine and proper every hour of every day. Women are not to be objectified for men’s pleasure. Women are just as intelligent as men. Women have the right to their own bodies. Women do not need validation from men, we validate ourselves. Women are important, independent and women are powerful.