Evidently, I’m a “nasty woman” by some people’s “standards.”
I’m a nasty woman because I stand up when others need to learn to sit down. I’m a nasty woman because I’m not a doormat, a sexual object or a toy to be played with. I’m a nasty woman because I have a voice, and I’m not afraid to use it. I’m a nasty woman for having a brain inside my head that I actually use for more than shopping and making sandwiches. I’m a nasty woman because I do not just accept things – I am seen and heard. I’m a nasty woman because I have had enough.
Perhaps I’m an “angry woman,” too.
Um, yeah. Please, look around. For even a second. There are so many things to be angry about. There are so many things that must change. Love is the answer, but anger is the result of the injustices that have and continue to take place in our world. I am an angry woman because I have an emotional range; because my eyes are not blind; because I will not simply turn a cold shoulder; because I will not put my head in the sand. And as an angry woman – that, too, makes me a nasty woman.
But what you should really know about me is that I’m a nasty woman, raising nasty women and we are getting stronger. Today may not be the day for nasty women, but there will be a day. We are here for it.
When your little boy picks on my daughter in the sandbox, I will not fill her head with nonsense about how it means that he likes her. He doesn’t – and if he did, he would treat her a heck of a lot better because that is the expectation.
When your daughter picks a fight with mine, I will not blanket an excuse about how girls can be. People can be cruel – not just girls.
When you think her shorts are too short or her neckline is too low, please consider whose actual problem it is. Everyone – yes, #youtoo – should be well-versed in sexual harassment by now.
If you should so dare to comment on my daughter’s physical appearance that means nothing about nothing and the words have no reason to exist, I will not validate your opinion based on the superficial measures that you created…for you.
When I walk into the room, I will ask her how she is doing and not make judgments about how she looks to be. When I say no, I will mean it and be unapologetic. When I speak about myself, I will be kind because I know that those will become the words she tells herself.
When she chooses blue over pink. When she chooses cleats over slippers. When she chooses care provider over caregiver. When she plays in the dirt and shares her opinion and gets loud. When she is herself – I will praise her.
And if I am a nasty woman, I’m going to make it count. I’m going to raise nasty women who are fearless and independent and bold and brave.
And let’s get one thing straight: I would rather be a nasty woman any day than be a man who can’t live for just one of them without name-calling.