Is this diary about sex? You bet it is.
The first time is something we don’t ever forget. We may not talk about it with anyone, but it changes us---there’s a loss of innocence, they say, and we carry that with us forever. So let’s talk about it, explore it, reminisce, and put it out there for everyone to discuss. Let’s take it out of the dark, and shed some light on it. I want to hear all about it, all the little details, all the dirt you care to tell---about that first time.
The first time you tasted sexism.
Here’s how the American Heritage Dictionary defines sexism:
American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This
sex·ism (sěk'sĭz'əm) Pronunciation Key
n.
- Discrimination based on gender, especially discrimination against women.
- Attitudes, conditions, or behaviors that promote stereotyping of social roles based on gender.
I heard a lot of comments about females growing up as a little girl. They were bad drivers, scatter-brained, gossipers, irrational, overly-emotional, and they only were interested in spending their husband’s money. With a gender description such as this, it’s amazing that I ever wanted to grow up to be a woman at all. Was it sexism? You bet it was. But did I know it at the time, or feel it to the depth of who I am as a human being? Not really. If you hear the same music all the time, you get used to it. Like elevator music---pretty soon you just tune it out. But there was one time in my life I couldn’t tune out. A moment in my life when something was said that made me hear in a new way, made me feel something deep inside, and changed me forever. It was the first time I understood sexism.
I was pregnant with my first child, and there are no words to describe the joy I felt as I carried a new life inside of me. With every movement within my womb, I felt a newfound pride at being a woman, and being able to give life. My husband’s uncle called us one night to congratulate us---I was seven months pregnant, and nervous as hell. He was a dear man, this uncle, generous and charming, and I loved him. He was thrilled to hear we were going to be parents and offered this bit of wisdom, “You know it’s going to be a boy. Our family only has boys,” he told me. “And if it’s a girl?” I asked in all innocence. He laughed at that thought, and then added, “Well, you know what they do in China? They kill girls.” He laughed again and I felt ill. The conversation went on, and I just listened. Sickened. Not just by his cruel comment, but by my sudden silence. I did not have a voice to answer him. Or to confront him for what he had said. I spent most of the night quietly thinking about what this favorite uncle had said to me. How could I speak up to this when I did not fully understand the pain I was experiencing? This wasn’t the first time I had heard something bad said about being female in this world. Why couldn’t I just forget it, and move on? This man was a loving person, and someone I had always respected. He didn’t really mean the comment, I was sure. So why not just forgive him? But by morning I could not find it in my heart to let this moment go by. I spoke to my husband about it, and he laughed and said, “Oh, he was just kidding.” Somehow that wasn’t enough. “You’re Jewish,” I reminded him. “What if we replaced the word “girl” with “Jew.” How would YOU feel?” It is the only time in my life I have seen my husband speechless. He understood. He felt the pain that I had felt for being treated as less, as inferior, as something without value. This was the first time sexism became more than just a word in my dictionary. I felt it for the first time.
But not for the last.
I have a theory about all those nasty, hateful terms with “ism” in them. When we don’t talk about them, they linger. If we just let them happen, or ignore them, they don’t go away. How can we find an answer, if we’re unwilling to talk about it with each other? I just started the conversation, but it’s up to all of you to keep it going.
So when was YOUR first time?