I’m brand new

Mostly to London. 

It was a big move. I hadn’t realised it would be, I felt so prepared and ready to flip open a new chapter and continue existing in my own bubble. It wasn’t the hardest move, but it wasn’t the easiest. It has certainly made me feel brand new after a very long time. Everything is fascinating. Everything is too new for me to handle. I realised how numb I had become. I realised how enclosed I was within my Hong Kong bubble. I didn’t have a set schedule, it was different, constantly, but it was the same. I realised how far I had come from wearing the skin of a closed off person. My thoughts are still mostly my own, but not much else. 

Do you ever feel like your thoughts aren’t your own? It’s a constant, nagging feeling, isn’t it? I’m essentially a product of everything I read, see and hear. I could be as critical as I want, and yet I’d still be harbouring thoughts of someone else. Someone who was definitely a lot smarter. On the bright side, I’ve never felt my feminist side be more alive. More than anything, I just want people to realise how much their actions effect others, especially women. Young women – teenagers, twentysomethings. We certainly don’t make it easy for them. As a society, we just can’t be happy for women, can we? If you’re a feminist, you’re obviously crazy and your mission in life is to castrate every man alive. If you’re women, you’re obviously going to get worked up over stupid things men have decided for you since before you were born. If you write anything even remotely supportive of women or men who support feminism, you’re obviously wrong and all of the internet will let you know that through inhumane, hateful comments which you’ll never shake off, despite what you say. How dare these critical women and men write about feminism? How dare they make you reflect on yourself for a minute or two so that you realise how all this time you’ve simply not been helping. 

Have you read this article about how we can’t tell the difference between remarks from a rape criminals and men’s magazines? Have you heard of the ridiculous arguments politicians are making over the birth control debate in the USA? Birth control. REALLY? Should I even begin on abortion? Are we really going to sit here and tell women not to have abortions? We seem to have this portrayal of women who get abortions to be that they go around looking for abortion, wanting abortion. 

I was numb to the sexist remarks I’d constantly hear in Hong Kong. I simply stopped listening. They went in one ear and out the other like there were no consequences, no problems. But now I feel all brand new, which means every remarks produces a little sting in my heart. Men casually wolf whistling. Women casually telling me they need to work out because their male lover thinks they have gained weight. Conversations about how Robin Thicke is a badass but Miley Cyrus needs to shut the fuck up and go home. It’s obviously completely okay that women are constantly barely clothed on television, but we can’t get a decent look at a barely clothed man.

How many more women and men do we need speaking out against these ridiculous ideals and stereotypes before we can all just call bullshit, go home and enjoy a non-sexist night? That’s what I really would like to research. Malcolm Gladwell famous suggestion of spending ten thousand hours on perfecting a skill is certainly not applicable to this one, is it? Slowest perfection in history. 

I will end this by saying: This is going to be labeled a “feminist rant” by most who will stumble across it. But it isn’t. It’s a rant. About everyday life. Things that matter to me. Things that effect me. And so, this is a rant. Because these things bother me. Like London’s incessant rain is starting to bother me. 




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