âFirst youâre taught to fear a phantom, a man in black, a man with a knife, a man whoâll pounce in dark alleys. Well-intentioned womenâmothers, aunts, teachersâwill train you to protect yourself: Donât wear your hair in a ponytail; itâs easier to grab. Hold your keys in one hand; hold your pepper spray in the other. Avoid dark alleys. When you reach young adulthood, the lessons change. They acquire an undertone of disgust: Donât drink so much. Donât wear such short skirts. Youâre sending mixed signals; youâre putting yourself at risk. If you follow the advice and it never happensâif you end up one of the three out of fourâyou can convince yourself that safety is a product of your own making, a reflection of inherent goodness. But if youâre paying attention, you realize something doesnât add up. Because it keeps happening: to your sisters; to your friends; to little girls and grown women youâll never meet, in places like Cleveland, Texas; Steubenville, Ohio; New Delhi. Good people, bad people, neutral. It keeps happening in TV shows and novels and moviesâthey open on the missing girl, the dead girl, the raped girl. If youâre paying attention, you begin to realize that it isnât happening. It is being done. And you are not safe. You have never been safe. You were born with a bulls-eye on your back. All you have ever been is lucky.â
â The Female Gaze: SO MUCH PRETTY by Cara Hoffman via Unpacking the F Word (via im-a-kittycat)













