{"id":4263,"date":"2021-03-24T12:34:24","date_gmt":"2021-03-24T16:34:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/?p=4263"},"modified":"2021-03-25T08:59:44","modified_gmt":"2021-03-25T12:59:44","slug":"learning-to-be-a-lady","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/2021\/03\/24\/learning-to-be-a-lady\/","title":{"rendered":"Learning to Be a Lady"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"FemaleAs I was scrolling through Tik Tok as one usually does, I came across a familiar page. Every day they post a new writing prompt, a question that can be about anything, whether it be about self-discovery, existential, or sometimes even comedic. But it\u2019s always meant to make you think, deeply, encouraging you to write your thoughts. Being an aspiring author myself, thinking and writing is my passion, my chosen path; I find it quite fun. Sometimes the prompt evokes happiness, asking you to think about someone you love, and how they have changed your life. Sometimes the prompt strikes a chord too close to home, and I swipe away, knowing that I can\u2019t deal with it today. But this time, as my eyes glimpsed over the prompt, I froze. No smile appeared with happy thoughts, yet no alarm went off to scroll away fast. I felt both and neither of those things, somehow felt my thoughts race and stop altogether, staring with four fingers holding the back of my phone, with my thumb hovering over the screen. I could only feel my brows furrow, as they squished in both thought, and something like confusion. <\/span><\/p>\n

The prompt read;<\/span><\/p>\n

Write about a time you felt invisible.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I got through that part. Yet it wasn\u2019t what slowed me down. As I scanned the screen, my eyes landed on the hashtags to the video, in the bottom right. One in particular.<\/span><\/p>\n

#Womenshistorymonth<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

When I was young, maybe not even ten yet, I was sitting on my front steps with my brother, who is younger than me. I\u2019m not sure why we were out there, perhaps just enjoying the sun as my mom gardened in front of us, talking about whatever kids talk about. We sat with our arms sluggishly hanging over our widespread legs, as the sun beat down on our almost-bare bodies, wearing only tanks and shorts because of the summer heat. We were happy. <\/span><\/p>\n

I remember my mom looked up from her gardening, as mom\u2019s do, to probably check out her two giggling kiddos. Her eyes landed on my brother, and then on me. The words came out of her mouth naturally, but with conviction,<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKendall, stop spreading your legs like that, close them.\u201d<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\"BoyNaturally I was both confused and a little embarrassed at the remark. I turned to my brother, whose legs dangled wide and open across the steps. My brows furrowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do I have to do that?\u201d<\/span><\/i> I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her response hasn\u2019t left me to this day.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGirls don\u2019t do that, it\u2019s not ladylike.\u201d<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I grew up in a very small, yet very conservative, town. My family, pretty much, the same. It felt like everywhere I went, my mom\u2019s words followed me. Watch what you wear. Watch how you speak. Watch how you sit. Watch how others see you. Watch what others think of you. <\/span><\/p>\n

School was especially stressful. Clothes and makeup and boys and friends. My friends pulled from class and humiliated over a spaghetti strap, boys who couldn\u2019t keep their hands to themselves, teachers who found it funny. The Greats were always men; Mathematicians, historians, and business moguls. I had one teacher who started every class with a joke, one telling me my feet were smaller than his so I could stand near the stove to cook better. There was even a time where I heard a boy yell a racial slur down the hall at the same time, and as I looked to the principal for a hopeful act of justice, I saw that he was too busy making a girl put her arms by her sides, measuring her shorts on a ninety degree spring day. <\/span><\/p>\n

I grew up in a place where I felt wrong for feeling as though these things were wrong. I was the outsider, the one who needed a reality check into the way life is. But my voice wasn\u2019t silent. I began to speak up, to ask questions; I couldn\u2019t for the life of me understand how a human being could be different, could have to act differently, based on something as arbitrary as gender. But my voice was met with a million reasons why I was wrong and the most harmful sentence to humanity;<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is just the way things are.\u201d<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

So I began to work hard. I studied and ran and learned and thought. I began living my life always in a stage of fighting, a stage of needing to defend my very existence. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"ThreeThese memories flooded my mind, as that Tik Tok looped around and around again. Because the truth was, I did feel invisible. I felt invisible when I looked around a family cookout, with the men loud in a circle, the women off to the side in chairs. I felt invisible looking into the history books. I felt invisible as the country I lived in debated the rights to my own body. But most of all, I felt invisible because I felt as though I couldn\u2019t help the other girls, the other women, who I knew felt the same. I felt anger, and powerlessness.<\/span><\/p>\n

How can the world make us feel so invisible, yet require us to be so perfect, at the same time?<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m not angry at my mom for telling me to close my legs that day. And I\u2019m not angry at her mom for probably saying the same thing to her. I\u2019m angry that women have been made to feel as though we must take up as little space as possible, be as quiet as possible, as obedient, as beautiful, as thin, as thick, as natural, as feminine, as cautious, as soft, as smooth, as patient, as sweet, as sexy, as happy, as domestic, <\/span>as invisible.<\/b><\/p>\n

It\u2019s women history month. And it\u2019s 2021. And I am proud to say that I feel as though I have finally found my voice. I don\u2019t smile at staring eyes out of fear anymore. I don\u2019t shrink myself down in a crowd anymore. I don\u2019t question my outfits anymore. I don\u2019t bite my tongue anymore. I don\u2019t feel invisible anymore<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nAnd there are women, absolute trailblazers, who are working day and night, breaking down walls and uplifting everyone around, who I always turn to as a reminder. A reminder of strength, in every meaning of the word. I thank Halsey, and Serena, and Megan. I thank Oprah, Kamala, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. I thank Naomi, Angela, Melinda. I thank the strong and courageous LGBTQ+ women and women of color. I thank every woman who made me feel seen, heard, and valued for something other than the way I look. And I thank the allies, the ones who don\u2019t cringe at the word \u201cFeminism,\u201d who look at equality as a necessity and not as a privilege. <\/span><\/p>\n

G.D Anderson said it best, \u201cFeminism isn\u2019t about making women stronger. Women are already strong. It\u2019s about changing the way the world perceives that strength.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A breath of relief. A breath, knowing that, \u201cI stand on the sacrifices of a million women before me, thinking what can I do to make this mountain taller, so the women after me can see further,\u201d just like Rupi said. And I was able to scroll away. Because I am not invisible. Not even close. And I will work until invisibility is no longer synonymous with women. <\/span><\/p>\n

Oh, and one more thing. <\/span><\/p>\n

I sit however I want to now.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"March<\/p>\n

\"HeadshotHi! My name is Kendall and I am a sophomore at the University, studying Creative Writing, Graphic Design, Business Innovation & Entrepreneurship, and Japanese! I am a Graphic Designer for Campus Rec, and although it is my first year working here, I already love it so much as it fits perfectly into my fields of study! Something interesting about me; I have been a model for about three years, being lucky enough to have even walked in New York Fashion Week! I<\/span>n my free time, I enjoy copious amounts of time spent outside, or playing with my puppy Mose.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As I was scrolling through Tik Tok as one usually does, I came across a familiar page. Every day they post a new writing prompt, a question that can be about anything, whether it be about self-discovery, existential, or sometimes even comedic. But it\u2019s always meant to make you think, deeply, encouraging you to write […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4096,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[37],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4263","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-spring-2021"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4263","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4096"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4263"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4263\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4563,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4263\/revisions\/4563"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4263"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4263"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.uri.edu\/inside-rec\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4263"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}