This one is dedicated to @Brixtonite. You rock sister.
It's ten to nine and I'm on a train. I have hash browns and a large latte for breakfast. The sun is shining, people are smiling and all is good. Twitter has been making me roar laughing at UKIP and I have a whole table to myself in this carriage.
Why then do I have this underlying feeling of irritation?
Language. Specifically language used to describe my gender.
It's been brewing for a while, but was brought to a head by seeing yesterday that the problem with feminism is that 'they deny slags exist'.
Notwithstanding the idea that a woman should be able to have as many sexual partners as she likes, leaving aside the woman hating rhetoric, it was the casual acceptance of the language that got to me.
I work in an office where I am the only woman. All my colleagues are men. My manager is a man. His manager is a man. I am the only woman. In a professional setting.
Yet when I objected to being referred to as a girl or a lady in that context, me, who has to work twice as hard for half the recognition, me, who still earns less than my male counterparts, when I object I get eye rolls. I get 'she's hard work isn't she?'. I get 'what am I going to do with you?'.
Here's an idea. Treat me with the same respect as you do the men.
I am a woman. There, that wasn't difficult was it?
I am not a girl. I do not throw like a girl, I am not a big girls blouse. I am not a girl and will never accept you calling me one while girl is taken to mean lesser.
I am not a lady. I do not buy into your purity culture. Nor do I need protecting from machismo. Machismo is more likely to need protection from me! I am not and refuse to be referred to as lady while it ever has the tag 'little' attached to it.
I am not a cunt. I have one, but am not one. I have now spent 4 months not using it as a pejorative and I haven't missed it. I'm far more inventive now.
I'm not a bitch either. Even it's common usage. I don't see a male gendered version anywhere. It's misogynist and I refute it.
I'm not a split arse, a bit of tail. I'm not a thing to hit. I'm not a spunk receptacle. I'm not yours to protect, use or abuse.
And I'm certainly not a slag. What I do with my body is my business, not yours and I reject your notion of keeping my purity safe for the right man. Fuck off.
I was asked by a co worker what he should call me, being as I objected to 'young lady'.
'How about Deeva?' I replied. 'You call the men by their names, why strip me of mine?'
So, if you want to get my attention, greet me or refer to me, why not use my name. That is what it is there for.
If you really must refer to my gender then woman will do.