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I am so tired. So sick and goddamn tired of being talked at by people who think they know better than me. People who refuse to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, those things against which I rail are things that need to be railed against, things that I have the right and the voice and the ability and the knowledge to rail against. That those things towards which I direct my energy are things that are deserving of my energy because ignoring them won’t make them go away. That when I am angry I have the goddamned right to be angry and that anger is often the driving force behind change.

I am so sick and goddamn tired of pretending it’s “people” who do this on the regular when the truth is that it’s men who do this on the regular, and knowing that if I point this out, that if I dare to utter the word “men” without some kind of qualifier that paints them in the glorious light to which so many of them feel entitled by birthright, that I will be screamed at, threatened, and/or labeled a man-hater.

I am sick and tired of men who lack the empathy to understand that my experience in this world as a woman is not the same as theirs. Of men who lack the ability to understand that speaking about my experience as a woman does not, in any way shape fashion form or wildest dream, detract from their experience in this world as men. I do not want to invalidate your experience, dude. All I want to do is talk about mine. May I please have five fucking minutes to do so?

I am sick and tired of these men inserting themselves into conversations where they do not belong, were not invited, and aren’t wanted. Men who cannot help but insert themselves because they lack the introspection to comprehend the simple truth that they do not always have the knowledge or the ability or the means or the insight to teach or correct others and that sometimes what they need to do is just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

I am sick and tired of the men that I otherwise love and respect doing this to me, because the love and respect that I have for them inevitably leads me to temper my response to them when my response need not be tempered at all, towards anyone, because my anger is real, it is legitimate, and tempering that anger only lessens my resolve to change the things that need to be changed. If you, man that I love and adore, cannot respect me enough to accept the possibility that I might teach you something rather than the other way around, because it’s always the other way around in your mind, then you do not love me and you are not deserving of my respect or my love. And yet I give it to you anyway. And I temper my anger at your behest because I want your approval. What if you aren’t deserving of my approval? And if you treat me this way then you aren’t. You aren’t. You aren’t.

I am sick and tired of these men assuming that they just need to explain things to me and everyone else born with a vagina. That they know better than me because they somehow have the ownership rights to the concept of “reason”, and that all I have in my corner is emotion. As if emotion is useless, that it somehow precludes reason and renders it as impotent as the thought process that drives these assumptions.

I am so tired. So sick and goddamn tired of being talked at by men who think they know better than me. For the love of kittens, dudes. Please just shut. the. fuck. up.

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