Today’s Feminist Friday comes from Caroline, the woman some of us know. She’s a real spitfire and all around awesome person. Enjoy!
As a graduate with a B.S. in English, words are really important to me. More than a form of communication, their nuances and intonations weave more than our accents or speech patterns; they tell a story of how we feel about ourselves and about those whom we’re relating to. In a world where the English language is becoming butchered, abbreviated and wholly bastardized on an alarming basis (Thanks YOLO!), I find though we may not be able to control the world of words around us, but we can certainly keep in check the way that we speak to or about the people we surround ourselves with.
This brings me to my biggest pet peeve and total turn off when meeting new lady-friends: Referring to each other as “bitches” (or any other derogatory term). Just typing the word spikes my blood pressure and hearing it out of someone’s mouth whom I respect, or am just meeting for the first time, is a total turn off, three strikes and you’re out offense. My only way to understand the flippant use of this totally disrespectful word when referring to someone who’s your friend, your sister, or just another lady like you trying to do her best, is that those who rely on vocabulary like this don’t hold themselves in high esteem.
This is one of my favorite times of year. NFL draft season, NHL and NBA playoff season. Yes, I am a girl. Yes, I
like LOVE sports. No, that doesn’t mean I want to look like I’m 21 going “clubbin'” when I go to a game. No, that doesn’t mean that I want to wear pink or sea foam green or any other color other than my teams ACTUAL colors on game day. Just because I have a uterus does not mean that I am not capable of sports knowledge and fashion knowledge at the same time. And I can not be the only woman like this in the world.
I have been a sports fan since I was born. Really, I had no choice in the matter. My parents thought I was going to be a boy. This was before they did ultrasounds on a daily basis, but the doctor told them that he was sure my mom was carrying a boy. So needless to say when the big day came my parents were more than shocked. My grandmother had to go to my parents house and redo the nursery while my mom and I were still in the hospital, which still ended up in navy and maroon because there is only so much you can do on short notice. My uncles had all gotten me shirts from different teams and colleges. I spent the majority of my early life in team apparel if only because it was bought with the understanding that I was to be a boy. Man I really screwed things up for them, huh?
My Dad never really let the fact that I am a girl get in the way of taking me to every sporting event under the sun. I have been to everything, from the four majors (NFL, NBA, MLB, NHL) to every college sport to minor league baseball and hockey, to arena football, to horse races and boat races. I was a well rounded little sports girl. He taught me not just about the history of all his favorite sports but how to really know the game. If that QB’s bad pass was because of his weak throwing arm, awkward throwing motion, or because the guy ran the wrong route. Continue reading