I Write Letters

[Content Note: Rape culture.]

Dear Men Who Are Incessantly Whining That Holding Men Accountable for Sexual Harassment and Assault Is Making Life Too Difficult and Scary for Men:

I will make a deal with you.

I will start giving a single tiny fuck about your trembling fear of being falsely accused at any moment by a hysterical lying woman, who inexplicably wants to shove herself into the meat grinder of making a rape allegation, when you start caring, even a little, that women spend our lives vacillatingly suspended somewhere between conscious and subterranean terror by the ever-present threat of actually being sexually assaulted — and, further, that we are tasked with the aggressively unfair and genuinely impossible role of preventing said threat by obsessively following ever-changing and often contradictory rules we have no input in conceiving or enforcing, which are structured to govern and control every aspect of our existence, including what we wear; how we wear it; how we carry ourselves; where we walk; when we walk there; with whom we walk; whom we trust; what we do; where we do it; with whom we do it; what we drink; how much we drink; if we take drugs; what kind of drugs we take; making sure to monitor our drinks so no one can slip us drugs; whether we make eye contact; whether we smile; whether we respond to overtures; whether we rebuff overtures; the tone in which we reject advances; the facial expressions we use; being alone; being with a stranger; being in a group; being in a group of strangers; being out after dark; being in unfamiliar areas; whether we're carrying something; how we carry it; what kind of shoes we're wearing in case we have to run; what kind of purse we carry; what we carry in that purse; what jewelry we wear; what time it is; what street it is; what environment it is; whether we cross the street when we are being followed by a man we don't know; making sure we cross the street without suggesting we're "profiling" him and thus grievously insulting him with our inability to magically discern whether he's a danger to us; not taking any shit from our teachers, bosses, boyfriends, husbands, upstairs neighbors, mail carriers, police we called for help, judges determining our future, senators, president, random dudes on the bus, but also not doing anything that threatens the manhood of our teachers, bosses, boyfriends, husbands, upstairs neighbors, mail carriers, police we called for help, judges determining our future, senators, president, random dudes on the bus; how many people we sleep with; what kind of people we sleep with; who our friends are; to whom we give our number; what we post on social media; to whom we send private images; who's around when the delivery guy comes; getting an apartment where we can see who's at the door before they can see us; checking before we open the door to the delivery guy; owning a dog or a dog-sound-making machine; getting a roommate; taking self-defense; always being alert always paying attention always watching our back always being aware of our surroundings and never letting our guards down for a moment lest we be sexually assaulted and if we are and didn't follow all the rules it's our own fault.

And, on top of all of that (which is, regrettably, hardly a comprehensive compendium), we are meant to understand that it's an immense and unreasonable imposition on men to ask them to engage in sexual assault prevention by not sexually assaulting people.

Once you start caring about all that, then I'll care about your fee-fees.

J/k. I won't. I will never give an infinitesimal fuck that you feel squirmy because men who have done terrible things to women are being publicly exposed as the abusive sadists that they are, even in the event that you profess to care about the oppressive lives women are obliged to lead because of shitwheels like you.

I guess I'm the cunt you always said I was after all.

I'm good with that.

Contemptuously,
Liss