Emma

Sometimes it’s pulling one card out of the deck in the car because you got there a minute early.

Sometimes it’s sniffling on the floor, eyes damp with tears, desperately trying to find how to get through this.

Sometimes it’s sitting in the meadow, or the forest. Enjoying the sun. Listening to the birds, feeling at peace.

Sometimes it’s hiding in the bathroom, trying to be fast enough that no one will suspect anything.

Sometimes it’s laying on the floor with a friend or two, pulling cards for each other.

like, if a kid can access the internet (with some privacy still) while also sitting in the same room as their parents, honestly that’s better and more social than what I did as a teenager, which was hole up in my room at my desktop computer that I couldn’t move anywhere else in the house

mostly what I see from the teens in my family is they will sit and scroll through their phone, but if something interesting starts happening, or a new person enters the room, or they see something cool they want to share, they look up and interact again, because they’re sitting right there with everyone else.

But

Like

What do they think families have done for since ever? Talk constantly while playing educational board games every evening? No.

Also, when we move too much during an argument, or lean forward, it’s scary, and I never knew. I was even a little insulted at first, because surely she didn’t think I would hurt her. But see, that doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a sign that she mistrusted me specifically; it’s a conditioned response. (Although if you keep doing it once you realize it scares her, she SHOULDN’T trust you.)

Not every woman has been physically harmed by a man she trusted, but every woman KNOWS a woman who has.

I used to be horrible about this, because I didn’t realize how intimidating it was. I didn’t understand why the woman I was with clammed up or tried to tell me what she thought I wanted to hear, and I only got angrier, and acted even more like an asshole. It was wrong. It was abusive. It didn’t matter if I INTENDED it that way; it was still emotionally abusive. And it was inexcusable.

I get that when passions are high, and when you’re frustrated, it’s a natural tendency to let your voice get louder, to shout and gesture and lean forward. But you can train yourself to do better. You can train yourself to keep more of an even tone, to refrain from large and fast gestures, to not lean into her personal space. I did. I’m not perfect at it yet, but goddamn it, I WILL be.

History is littered with the bodies of women who believed a man “would never.” This includes women killed by men who honestly, deeply, truly believed they “would never”… right up until she said that one thing or moved in just that way and he just got so mad, just that once, and pushed her or punched her or slashed her or shot her… just once, y’know, to shut her up, or because she was flinching and didn’t she know that HE’S NOT LIKE THAT and I’LL TEACH HER TO BE AFRAID OF ME…

We are trained, from infancy, that Men With Loud Voices are a source of pain from which we cannot escape, and attempts to escape may result in more pain. And as soon as we’re old enough to comprehend a world broader than our immediate circle, a world that extends into the past and will run into the future, we realize that there is no way, no way at all, to tell which men “would never” and which men “would never… except if.”

We live or die on that “if.” And any man who doesn’t like facing that hyper-vigilance can work on fixing OTHER MEN, not women’s fear.

The reaction shouldn’t be “not all men are like that;” it should be “no woman should have to live in fear.”

Me: lmao

body dysmorphia: TRASH

Me: wait no