An Open Letter to the Various Men Who Shout at Me

Photo by Ryan Franco on Unsplash

Dear Angry Man,

Did you accomplish what you set out to do? Was it worth it? What exactly were you trying to do in the first place? Was destroying any relationship we had your goal because from my perspective that’s all and everything you managed.

Maybe you’re a close relative or maybe you’re just some random jerk on the street but when your face got all twitchy and enraged and you tried to do that remarkably stupid hulk mad thing men do when they’re trying to scare people they think are physically weaker than them, I stopped respecting you. At that moment in my eyes you were reduced to an animal. And not even a cool animal. You could have been a cat. I like cats. Instead you chose mangey rabid coyote.

Grrr. I’m mad. Actually, I take it back. Coyotes are way cooler than angry men. (Photo by Levi Saunders on Unsplash)

I’m still puzzled as to why exactly you chose to yell at me rather than actually confront your problems in a meaningful way. It’s rather difficult to understand you when you raise your voice and get that sort of red tinge to your face that makes me wonder if I can pop you like a balloon, but perhaps if you tried to articulate your issues. From what I understand my involvement in this is *checks notes* existing.

Perhaps there are times when a woman or multiple women have actually cramped your style, but unless I’ve missed a rather important memo I do not represent all women. And to be entirely honest I’m not sure that women are the problem anyways. I think the problem is you.

Let’s look at this logically, shall we? You’re good at that. At least, you never miss an opportunity to tell me you’re definitely the pinnacle of rational thought. I mean, we don’t really have any empirical evidence to back that up, but let’s pretend for a moment that you are actually in control of your mental faculties to a degree that you, angry man, can understand basic logical statements.

Oh nooooo, not LOGIC!! (Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash)

If you’re mad, then your expectations have not been met. With me so far?

If you’re expressing your anger at me then you believe I am somehow responsible for this failure in meeting your expectations.

So, what exactly did you expect and how do you think I’m involved?

In some cases it is literally just my existence that you’re angry about. And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak to my parents about that and also depending on where you stand religiously, possibly God.

In some cases you’re mad because you feel I’ve failed to serve you. But okay, was I working as a waitress at the time? No, I wasn’t. Pour your own goddamn water. (Also, unless you want a loogie in your soda just as a general rule of thumb, you may want to avoid yelling at waitresses.)

In a few cases you’re mad because I did not immediately make myself sexually available to you. Fair enough, but have you looked in a mirror lately? No one wants that.

Your expectations are absurd as is your reaction to them not being met.

So, my dear apoplectic men now we come to the part where you answer for your poor behaviour. And yes, it’s you who will answer, not your mom. You’re an adult and I don’t believe for a second that your mother raised you to be entirely without a sense of social responsibility.

I know, it’s terrible, but eventually you’ll have to grow tf up and start taking responsibility for your actions. (Photo by Zheka Boychenko on Unsplash)

Here’s the thing you overlooked: I have personhood. And as a human I also have emotions. Now yes, I am actually rational and intelligent and all the things you want to be but just are not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get angry myself.

So let’s talk about my expectations.

I expect to be able to walk down a street in my hometown without some creep bothering me. I expect to be able to sit in a public space alone without being harassed. I expect to be able to go to school or work without some guy claiming that I somehow stole his spot and I expect to be credited for the work I do and heard when I speak.

My expectations are NOT unreasonable.

And you, random angry man who’s having a tantrum because I have a ring on my finger or something something that skirt are directly interfering with my reasonable expectations. What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish here? Do you think your failure to control your emotions is impressive? Do you genuinely believe you deserve so much out of life that you can just impose your will on other people? And why on earth would you think that? I mean, you’re having a tantrum here in the middle of the street over my hair. How is this remarkable in a good way?

Kindly move so I can get to my job on time where I am underpaid for the sin of being female. I do not have time for your bullshit and neither should you.

In summary, you’re dumb and I hate you.

Love,

Ari

Doctor of Palaeopathology, rage-prone optimist, stealth berserker, opera enthusiast, and insatiable consumer of academic journals.

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