This Is Not “Female Privilege” — This Is Misogyny

January 15, 2015 / Blythe Baird

From the moment we are born, girls — and children who are told they are girls — are socialized to embrace misogyny as normal.

We learn to recognize our worth in how attractive men find us, to say thank you to street harassment, to protect ourselves with flirtation and niceties, to find power in masculinity, and to be complacent with invisibility.

We are taught that every act of violence we experience is a result of how short our skirt is or how deep our shirt line plunges.

Because society does not want to empower us to have self-efficacy and actualize our goals, we are encouraged to do the bare minimal. Consequently, some male chauvinists have claimed that women have it easy. Other times, we are critiqued for exploiting this sexist system that objectifies our bodies for class mobility and other resources.

However, as this poet states, “This is not female privilege. This is survival of the prettiest.”

Misogyny created this problematic dynamic and ending misogyny is the only way we’re gonna end it.

Click for the Transcript

BLYTHE BAIRD: Girl Code 101. We are the finaglers. The exceptions. The girls who have not run the mile in four years, who layer deep v-necks with excuses, eyelashes bat wiffle balls at the male gym teachers.

We are the girls taught to survive by using our bodies as Swiss army knives.

Calculated scrunched notes, giggles, and friendly forearm lingers. “You’re so funny. Please don’t touch me.”

We convince ourselves there is protection in being polite. “No, you can go first. Girls, we have to be nice.” Male kindness is so alien to us, we assume it is seduction every time.

We remember aged nine the first time we are cat-called. Twelve, fraudulent bodies calling us women before we have the chance to.

Thirteen, the year dad says wearing short skirts in the city is like driving without a seat belt. Fifteen, we are the unmarked tardies, waved attentions, honorable mentions, and lush floral dresses.

Sixteen, we are the public school mannequins. Seventeen, we know the answer, but do not raise our hands.

Instead, we are answering to guidance counselors who ask us “Well, what were you wearing?” Their voices clink-less toasts, we are led off the hook from hall monitors, retired football coaches who blow kisses and whisper “Little Miss Lipstick” into our ears in the high school cafeteria.

We shiver, but hey, at least we still get away without wearing our student IDs.

This is not female privilege. This is survival of the prettiest. We are playing the first game we learned how to. We are the asses smacked by boys who made welcome mats of our yoga pants.

We are easily startled. Who wouldn’t be? We are barked at from the street, we are the girls petrified of the business school boys, who learn to manifest success by refusing to take “no” for an answer.

And I wonder what it says about me that I feel pretty in a dress, but powerful in a suit.

If misogyny has been coiled inside of me for so long, I forget I will not stand before an impatient judge with an Adam’s apple, hand grasping gavel, ready to pound a wooden mark.

Give me a god I can relate to. Commandments from a voice both soft and powerful. Give me one accomplishment of Mary’s that did not involve her vagina.

Give me decisions, a wordless wardrobe, and opinion list dress, give me a city where my body is not public property. Once my friend and I got cat-called on Michigan Avenue, and she said “Fuck you” while I said “Thank you,” like I was trained to.

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Blythe Baird is an 18-year-old poet, actress, and feminist. In 2014, she represented Chicago as one of the youngest competitors to ever compete at the National Poetry Slam. Her work has been published or featured by The Huffington Post, Write Bloody, Chicago Literati, and Banango Street, among others. She is currently studying creative writing and women’s studies at Hamline University in St. Paul, MN. Her first full length book of poems is coming out soon through Where Are You Press in 2015. You can follow her on Twitter @blythe_baird.

Video courtesy of Button Poetry. For more amazing spoken word performances, check them out on YouTube and Facebook.