is it really because i'm a bitch?
by Wynters Leigh GeimerI can remember it well: Summer Con in July 2004. We, the Joseph Priestley District Youth Steering Committee (JP DYSC), had officially named our conference Camp Con-a-we-go (my idea, I used to go to a Girl Scout camp named Camp Conowingo) and we held it in the Middleofnowhere, PA. It was my first conference ever as a DYSC member and as the Youth Council Representative (I'd been elected in April). So naturally, I still possessed the unnatural optimism of someone who'd never been burned.
In the JPD we have a tradition Saturday night clean-up—that way we don't have to do too much on Sunday morning when we're groggy. Saturday night clean-up is always, always before the "Super Secret Activity” and Worship. Well, lo and behold the appointed hour for clean-up was upon us. Surprise, surprise, no one moved to clean. To me this was shocking, shocking! How could people not want to pitch in? So I turned to our lovely female youth co-chair "Eleni" and asked her what we should do about it. Her answer: "You want to try? Go ahead, and see what happens." I, of course, did.
On our schedule, we'd allotted an hour for cleaning. Confidently, I strode forth to rally the troops. What did Eleni mean anyway? It's just cleaning and, anyway, I'm on DYSC. They'll listen, I mean, it's sooo simple. Room to room I went with my cry of, "Guess what?! It's time to clean up! Make sure all your stuff is out of the hallways!!!" Much to my surprise, dismay, and horror very few people moved to clean and some who did returned to their prone positions upon realizing the lack of activity among their friends and fellow Con-goers. Even DYSC members were sprawled on the floor doing nothing. As the hour wore on I grew more and more irritated, to the point of becoming what some called “bitchy.” Eventually I ran into “Jean”, our male youth co-chair and complained to him. He said, "I'll take care of it."
I followed as he traveled from door to door, his battle cry an echo of my own. To my surprise, everyone aroused from their stupor and cleaned. It was done in ten minutes. I didn't understand. Eleni told me it was quite simple. They didn't do what I'd asked because of the way I was born. All I was to them was another woman.
I knew at this point all the Helen Keller jokes, the misogynistic jokes, the "playful" snapping of bras, the derogatory names assigned to females during Silent Football, weren’t a joke. It's disrespect towards all females. Sexism, like racism, still exists. “Who cares? It's just a downer.” That's what they tell me.
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Last updated on Friday, April 18, 2008.
