I Gotta Own Some Stuff

A story from my archives — that is sadly still true

Photo by Darina Neyret

I am working on a new post that has proven to be difficult to complete. At the same time, I have agreed to post consistently at 8am on Saturdays. I am leaning into that agreement and posting an edited version of a piece that I wrote on August 11, 2023. This still resonates. It’s a good reminder of how little that needle has moved in two years. Something to think about…

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Men — I’m angry with you. I’m scared of you.

And it’s likely not YOU — the man that I just got pissed off at — the man that I lashed out at — the man that I tried to shame — the man that I ignored.

I’m just mad. And hurt. And scared.

And it’s probably not YOU.

But I don’t know how else to behave, because my personal history has shown me that you male-bodied humans are dangerous. I have experienced it.

I get it that it’s not YOUR fault. My brain does. My body doesn’t.

When you show up like the men that have tried to control me, when you tell me that things need to be XYZ way, I will push back. When your physical body encroaches on my space, even with a smile, I’m scared. I don’t have another option because I know that I am in danger. You are going to take over and I will lose myself.

My body “knows” this. My brain can’t communicate here.

I get that it is subtle, but that subtly is big. Please pay attention because this is years of abuse that I am trying to dissolve. It doesn’t come easy.

To the men in my life — that still want to be in my life — please don’t show up with solutions. Please don’t tell me how it “should” be…how I “should” behave. Or give apologies or try and reassure me that you’re not like that. Please don’t give me platitudes. It doesn’t help. I can’t viscerally believe you. My body can’t.

Please just sit and listen like I’m a magical unicorn and you have no idea what I am about to say or what I have experienced. Please just sit with me. And hear me.

I don’t want this anger with you anymore. I don’t want this fear or distrust.

I need some proof — some REAL PROOF — that space with you is safe. That I can be however I am and still be valued and loved and wanted and seen without being some object to fill a space for you. I need to know that me — just me as I am — is enough. And I don’t need to do anything for you in order to be valued.

I gotta own some stuff — I have anger towards you. I don’t trust you.

I don’t because you are a male-bodied human being. That’s awful and that’s not fair and I am so sorry that it is true. I really want to fix it — and I think I have to start by admitting to you that’s how how I feel in your presence.

And you need to know that this is collectively on your plate. You have some stuff to own too. Even if you didn’t individually do a thing.

Mostly, I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Mostly, I want to feel safe.