October 12, 2016

Last night was pretty rough.  I received an email that was useless and abuse-full.  I read it late last night and the emotions it stirred up spilled over into today.  After my morning class, I thought maybe I'd just skip the afternoon class and take some time to recharge (probably cuddling my cat on this cold rainy day).  But I was reluctant to miss and after a bit of time and a decent meal, I headed back to campus for Social Problems.

Before I started the semester, I predicted, I think fairly accurately, that Sociology of Gender would be really interesting, and Social Problems would be pretty depressing.  Today's Social Problems class, we looked at global gender inequality.  The first power point slide: Acid Throwing (complete with photos).  I hung my head and covered my face with my hands.  I thought: I just can't do this today.  I can't look at this stuff, hear about this stuff, think about this stuff, absorb these realities into my head and heart and soul.  I debated leaving the class, but stuck around as slide after slide, we covered the greater horrors of being a woman in the world today (today--2016!): dowry deaths, femicide, rape, honor killings, sex slavery, etc.  Not an uplifting afternoon, especially layered on a rough night.

At one point, a man in the class told us how, when he was deployed to Afghanistan, his unit came upon someone being stoned (seriously?  2016!).  They tried to intervene, but their leader had to order them to move on.  It wasn't something they could stop, and they needed to continue their mission.  The student spoke about it soberly, and it was clear he had a hard time reconciling the fact that he had to walk away from that.  He said he signed on to protect life--granted, the life of Americans--but seeing that, he felt the same call to protect life regardless of nationality, and ultimately, couldn't.  The class was silent.  It was, literally, a moment of silence.  I felt horrified by his experience, but honored that he shared it with us.

On the way home after class, I cranked up some Lady Gaga.  I just needed a female power anthem, and I hadn't listened to Born This Way in a few months.  Driving down East Wash in my new-to-me red Prius, base thumping...I felt strong, proud, secure.  But towards the end of the song, everything hit me: my privilege.  And then: tears of gratitude.

I am so lucky.  To live in a country where I can work full time.  Go to school.  Live on my own.  Buy my own car.  Listen to female power anthems.  Meet guys of my choosing.  Tell a guy I'd like to see him again.  Tell a guy I don't want to see him again.  Marry a guy I love, divorce a guy I don't, and have legal rights and social acceptance either way.  Hell, I can change 'guy' to 'girl' in those sentences if I'd like.  I can have a baby as a single woman (sperm donor, adoption) or I can marry and use birth control.  I have these and hundreds of other choices. 

I can ride a bike--we learned in class that women in Saudi Arabia were just granted permission to ride bikes in 2013, and then: only fully covered and with a male guardian.  It was after midnight when I left work last night; I biked home, alone, from my full-time job to my apartment where I live alone (not lonely!).  I wore pants and a top and didn't give my clothes a second thought beyond wishing I had worn something a bit warmer.

I don't often realize the ways I have the privilege of choice.  I'm sure there are hundreds of freedoms and rights I have--and take for granted--that other women, if they attempted to do those things I don't even think about--would risk death.

It was an awful and awesome class, and I am so grateful.