“These girls are a dime a dozen”. This from a large, womanizing, homophobic, egotistical Hispanic man. This from an idiot who doesn’t care to see the damage that is dealt when you group multiple human beings under the same, simple words.
“But at least Hispanic girls’ll try things other girls won’t”. These words come from a short, fat, blundering and stupid white man. His stomach hangs out over work pants that settle too far down on his hips and I want to spit on him.
I am not a dime a dozen. I am a living, breathing Woman and you will not degrade me by telling me that I am the same as every other human being with two X chromosomes. You will not make me feel as though my thoughts and hobbies and quirks don’t matter.
I wish them both years of work trying to win over a single female, only to be left at the altar. I wish them both pain and frustration as Fathers whose baby’s Mothers won’t let them see their child. I wish for neither of them to find happiness (alone or with another) unless they somehow learn an inherent respect for all human beings.
I wish them my pain. I wish on them the generalization and the whistles and the jokes and the catcalls. I wish the threats and demeaning questions and the assumption that “you can’t function under that much stress. You’re just a girl”.
I wish these things so they may begin to understand.
I am more than “just a girl”. I am fire and brimstone; I will burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. I am an ocean with waves that crash onto your shore, destroying your most labor-intensive sand castles—you cannot own me. I take up space – More and MORE AND MORE until there is no room left for you and your words that cut into my skin even though I do not want to let them.
What I am not is one single, intelligible thought, and you cannot define me by the unintelligible thoughts that makes up anyone else.