To the Women Like Me

International Women's Day 2022

Oooh fellas, thanks for the card and flowers. I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother to stop at the roadside at the last minute.

I observe conduct over words. 364 days of conduct.

Here’s your cookie, sweetie. Ugh.

And women who fawn over them for it, all whilst ignoring/scolding the Horrible Women Like Me.

Women Like Me who say pound sand, risking our reputations, safety and livelihoods.

Women Like Me who do impolite, socially isolating and difficult work.

Women Like Me who do what *costs us* because it *matters*.

Women Like Me, who believe in the goodness of everyday men, have sons, and think that fawning praise for zero-effort veiled misogyny is an insult to men that are doing more than zero.

Women Like Me, who make shit awkward and lose friends, because we are committed to the noisy signals, not virtue-signalling noise, only to go without acknowledgement, make no money and get none of the respect, praise or “support” you supposedly reserve for “other women”.

To the Women Like Me who get scorn, gaslighting, punishment and condescension. And, increasingly, censorship and suppression on social media for merely getting *to the root*, all cause you’re trying to get one and the dudes harassing us can’t.

I thought we were fighting for the right to read, write, vote, be paid fairly, and participate FREELY in public life as equal citizens (yes, online too) without being harassed (and “no” often escalating to threats, violence and death).

My mistake. It’s LinkedIn. We’re fighting for the right for rich white ladies to complain about men sitting in a way that it doesn’t hurt their nuts.

So, on #iwd2022, I am not dedicating it to “all women, except actual women I don’t like but including men”.

I am dedicating this to the Impolite, the Rude, the Honest, the Brave Women Like Me.

The Invisible and Silent Women, who wish they could speak up, but push back in big and small ways, every day. The office managers who won’t take shit. The Women who say no without emoji. The Karens. The difficult. The rude. The vulgar. The crass. The hairy legged harpies and the Bull Dykes and the Whores and the Bar Hags and the Working Mums and the Stay at Home Mums and the Carers and yes, especially the young women who see all of this shit and feel that it is too much to bear and fuck the labels altogether.

Believe me, I *get* that.

To the Women who agree with me but are so afraid of harassment or being fired that they can’t say so publicly. I see you, I understand, and …don’t worry, I got this.

The Women who’ve earned stripes, and had enough.

And, to all the Women who gave up *their* lives to give us ours.

The Women who, every day, are silenced, lectured, threatened, attacked, wolf-whistled, flashed and receive unsolicited comment essays from dudes who can’t seem to comprehend that a women might be out, in public, doing her job, and not want you to bother her.

Here’s to the Women Like Me.

The Women with Balls.

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