Alright alright alright, step the fuck up cause I'm about to lay it all down.

Being labeled a girl in this society (whether you identify as such or not) is honestly fucked up. You tell us it is made up, you say that we are privileged, and you throw away our problems as if they are nothing.

Shall we share what's its like? Even in the land of the free, where dreams come true? Your sister, does she tell you how she doesn't feel safe walking home alone? And your mother, does she share horror stories, nonfiction stories, her stories, with you? Does she tell you how the boys used to use canes to pull up students skirts? Did she tell you about the time she was cornered on the basketball court, and how the only reason she got away was because she threw herself down a hill? Mine did.

Did you hear about the girl down the street, and how her uncle really enjoyed her puberty? Did you hear about your teacher, how in college she went drinking with friends, not realizing Rob from next door would slip a little extra into her drink? How she dropped out and almost didn't make it through the year?

Well, I'll share my own stories. The fact that as a young teenager, I couldn't walk anywhere without getting men in cars honking at me, without getting inappropriate stares, the foul words, the disrespectful comments about my tight body, my fat body, my body. It is mine, not yours.

At 16, getting my first real job, and being so happy and excited, until my boss began to say things. Things like "lipstick makes you look so grown up, keep it like that," "I should date girls your age," "I should bring you to parties and say you're my girlfriend," "All my school friends would be jealous if they knew I hung out with you." How I began to fear working from then on, how I couldn't tell anyone, because who would believe? And who could do anything? After all, he didn't take action, so it's harmless, right?
Wrong.

How boys will speak openly of how they want to fuck you, and how nonsexual fantasies, but fantasies nonetheless, are acceptable in their eyes. How you shouldn't be uncomfortable because "it's not about sex." But it always seems to be.

We are not objects of your fantasy. We are not here for your sexual satisfaction. We are humans, and we are deserving of respect. Respect us. Let us be who we are. Leave us be, or help us. But do not mess with us.