Dear Society…

Dear Society,

I am writing this letter to you because naming specific people is time consuming and pointless. You love to generalise, so let me extend to you the same courtesy. Let me plant questions that make you ponder, resulting in minds that wander.

You suck. No, you really do. Of course I am aware that I am one millipede among the sea of centipedes who belong to the privileged few in this country. Of course I am aware that right now, in the large scheme of things my problems are puny and insignificant. Of course compared to the backdrop of prejudice, hatred and fear this will melt and wither away. But who cares, right? You certainly don’t.

You are a hypocrite. You are horrid. Hating you is something I loathe doing because hatred takes up too much energy, and I can’t be bothered. But it’s hard. It’s hard not to hate you.

At 32, I am relearning many many lessons. I am learning that being who I am is not cool. I have learned that I am intimidating and scary. I now know that I am also foolish and naive. I have been dropped into an ice-cold bucket of rejection and am learning humility once more. But here’s where you come in Society, it’s because you tricked me. You fooled me into thinking that I was someone. You lulled me into this false sense of security; making me feel safe, making me feel loved. You allowed me to have Hope, and that Hope is a horrid woman. She’s a tease. You, who once killed Hope within me, gave birth to her again. And I loathe you for that.

Yes I understand, these are my shortcomings and I need to be ‘adult’ about it and stop whining like a little girl. But that’s the thing. You make me feel like shit, because I am a girl. No, this isn’t some feminist rant. There’s no need for me to bring feminism into it because you lack comprehension of the fundamental values of feminism. What’s worse is you have twisted and contorted feminism, morphed it into something it is not and allowed that misrepresentation to bloom among a field of ignorant imbeciles – this irritates me too.

I loathe you because you make me feel like a little girl; a hopeless, helpless child who only wants to wallow. You tell me that I can fight like a girl, but you put rock-hard mountains in my way which make being me, being what I am and who I am, so friggin’ hard – and it’s so hard to keep getting up every time I fall.

There are larger problems you can throw my way. Problems where loss is permanent and leaves voids. Of course, thanks for pointing that out to me. Thanks for making me appreciate the insignificance of my issues in the larger scheme of things. But let me whine and complain a little, because that’s what you make me think I do best.

I don’t like that you hit me where it hurts. I don’t like that you take the voices of people I value and love, and spew crap out of them that make me question why I allowed these people in my life. I don’t like it that you make pettiness and small mindedness a big deal. I don’t like that sometimes I have to pretend in order to get what I want. I don’t like that you’ve made people pessimistic and cynical. I don’t like that you’ve opened my mind, and then shackled it and made me aware of these shackles. I don’t like that you are selfish and embody the worst traits of society. I don’t like that you get away with anything and everything because you are so vast and nameless. I don’t like that you are referred to as a pronoun (‘they say’, ‘they think’, ‘they will talk’). I don’t like how you allow women to be mistreated. I don’t like how you permit children to be neglected and ignored. I don’t like a lot of things and I don’t have the power, control or agency to do a damn thing about it.

Then there’s the whole motherhood thing. Your control over my uterus and reproductive system is so far-reaching that it is truly a miracle. 6 years after having my last child I am still told about decisions that have been made for me (by another man) which are in the best interests of my children. Do you know me as a mother? Do you know my children? Do you have any idea how my household functions? No. Because you don’t live with me. You cannot look at facets of my personality and my behaviour and assume it is a whole, because it isn’t. I am more than what you see. I am more than what you hear. You presume to gauge my personality by looking at me through your lens. But here’s the thing Society, your lens cannot encompass the multitudinous nature of my being. Your outdated and misogynist values can’t fathom me. It’s useless to try. All I ask, all I have ever asked is to let me be. But that is the hardest thing for you to do. Let me, and others like me, who fail to fit snugly into your ice-cube-moulds, just exist. We’ve gone through the mill. We’ve hated the mill. We have struggled to be snug as a bug in that box you have handed to us – but it hasn’t worked. Just let us be on the periphery. We are going through enough on our own, we don’t need problems that are intangible to tangle with – it is futile and really not worth our effort or time.

I am not an angry person. I am generally a happy person who likes her life. You make it really hard for me to be happy. If you have any regard for me, I’d really appreciate you noting the above and allowing me to continue to be my own personal sunshine.

On that note, making it a general habit to leave most women alone (though a stretch for you) might also be in your best interests.

Who am I kidding? There is no resolution. There can only be change. There can only be me, fighting and fighting until I give up. I don’t know if there’s a point anymore. I don’t know if I’ll even post this. But FYI, you really really suck.

Love

Shannon