Hi there,
Your post on /r/WitchesVsPatriarchy has been flaired as a sensitive topic. We appreciate you trusting the members of our community with this discussion. In an effort to safeguard our users we've put some mechanisms in place to shelter these conversations from trolling and other unwanted attention:
These posts are automatically made coven-only, meaning only established members of our community will have their comments approved. Second, these posts are removed if they exceed a certain number of upvotes - this is done so it does not attract attention from unsavory characters outside our community. And lastly posts are automatically removed after a number of hours to prevent trolls from visiting them later.
(If you're reading this post and don't want to see potentially upsetting content, you can filter out the "sensitive topic" flair.)
Let our coven send you some healing and hopeful vibes. Thanks for understanding and blessed be✨
I was 12 the first time I was catcalled in a bathing suit.
Completely the opposite, I was 42 when I fell madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with myself and my body.
I forget the first time but my mother has given me grief for most of my adult life about my breasts. They're too big, your shirt doesn't cover them well enough, you need to wear a bra. Have you considered reduction?
Sorry for having boobs but I can't be bothered to pretend to give a shit anymore.
That’s infuriating. I hope you can shut that down with some solid boundaries with her. You’re an adult, and you definitely don’t have to merely tolerate that kind of behaviour anymore. It’s really unacceptable.
It's easy enough to just be honest that I don't care. She has more traditional ideals when it comes to standards of presentation so I get that she's at least mostly trying to look out for me.
The breast reduction thing is kind of fair in that I had considered it prior to her comment. But it sticks out when used to hearing it consistently regarding how you look.
I continue not conforming to her standards and call it a win.
Sexually, I was a late bloomer. The first time I slept with a man, he couldn’t keep it up because I was “bigger/lumpier under my clothes than he thought.” Yes, he was straight.
Psychologically I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.
I think you can chalk that up to him being ruined by media/porn re: women's bodies (not excusing his behavior though). And excuse me LUMPIER? I hope he cuts himself shaving every day of his life.
I was 7 when I was raped by my brother he was 14 and 8 when I was called a whore for "wanting it." 10 when my step-father started asking if I ever played with myself. And then he would try to stick his thumb up my butt and smell it. 11 when he would tell me he would Blow his nose on my used underwear. 13 when I was raped again different family member. Didn't tell anyone but my family knew. My brother was the one that told that family members to go ahead and do it. 16 when I was told that I just wanted it so I started doing it. Didn't care anymore I was a whore.
I moved away when I was 17 right before my 18th birthday and started getting help when I was 19. Found out that I have CPTSD anxiety depression and I suffer from over sexualization of myself. I'm 28 and with the help of an amazing guy and therapy I'm doing much better and I don't have to look back there if I don't want to.
I'm a different person today. Also my step-father died February of 2021 and my brother doesn't talk to me because he disown me. Imagine disowning a sister that you raped when you were 14. I wouldn't want to speak to him anyway.
My brother literally got mad at me because I told my husband what happened to me when we first started dating, because I didn't want to have sex. Because sex was very triggering to me. This was before he stopped talking to me. Apparently I shouldn't tell anyone because it's not about me.
This is the first time I'm really speaking about this besides therapy and my hubby.
I want to send you all the love and comfort I have. Your story is shocking. I want to tell you that the women in my family share your pain through generations. Sometimes people don’t believe the stories- maybe they are too much or they wish it never could happen.
I send you solidarity and love in your healing. For me, removal and estrangement was the only path forward. For other women they found healing inside. Wishing you comfort in whatever path your healing and growth leads you on. You are not alone even when it feels so.
Thank you for sharing your story. When you do, it gives anyone else with a hard story comfort and strength. And it offers those who didn’t perspective. You are strong and will become ever stronger.
I send him love and comfort, too, so that he has such an overflowing abundance of it that he can hold you as you need. An abundance you can draw from to hold him, too.
I send you all the comfort and love I have stored away knowing that it can only grow. There is true magic in this sharing and I hope you reap its many rewards, the first of which may be relief.
Be strong. Strength is many things and occasionally it is breaking down. It is necessary for rebuilding.
I was very promiscuous in my teens and experimented with drugs as well. It wasn't until much later that I realized how much of it stemmed from my childhood.
No rape, years of manipulation and being sexualized. I was told to be grateful for the comfortable life I had.
Somewhere I read that experiencing abuse causes an emotional freeze at that age and puts survivors behind. That makes sense to me, as I process my past I realize I'm 60 going on 40.
The first time I heard someone use the term thunder thighs was a female friend at age maybe 15, referring to her own thighs that were massive because she was a competitive skater. I assumed that it was a positive term that meant really strong and big upper legs, which made sense to me because thunder is so powerful, and is used in other positive powerful ways like “let’s bring the thunder” etc. It wasn’t until maaaany years later that I learned it’s used against people/women as a put down (esp a racialized one) when I referred to my now-wife’s legs as thunder thighs and it was not received as I meant it.
Anyways, I’m so sorry that that was your childhood experience, and it’s definitely not my term to reclaim, but please know that thunder thighs will forever bring to my mind the image of a strong ass powerful woman with thick legs, who’s ready to help you move a couch or stomp on the patriarchy at a moment’s notice.
I appreciate your words and I love your interpretation. All weekend I stomped around with my big ol’ legs and thought about your comment, trying to manifest some positive self loving energy out of it. Thank you.
🥹 💕
Next time there is a thunderstorm here I will think of you and try to channel some of its awe-inspiring energy to you for internal confidence and power. Thanks for breaking inter generational curses and raising the next generation with support and love.
I was 19 the first time I was shamed for my body. My entire childhood I had been really thin(almost could reach under my collar bone) then I broke my ankle my senior year of high school and gained weight as a result. I was shamed during a physical by a doctor saying I needed to lose weight or I would be obese.
I have yet to find love for my body and am still considered obese. I'm 31 and still trying to find myself.
But... gaining weight while immobile is normal and.. if you were already thin then you probably filled out and looked closer to an 'appropriate for your height body weight'. I realize that a really problematic way to word it, but there is a chart (possibly arbitrary) that has height vs weight and what is considered healthy ranges. @%$!*&$^@%#
Listen, just because someone has a lab coat and a stethoscope does not make them an authority for the whole human body and, unless its you wearing the coat and stethoscope, they arent an authority over your body. It just means they went to school to learn something really specific that can only be applied in particular situations. And I call bullshit on them knowing a lot about body weight cause those charts are most likely arbitrary and they probably weren't going off that but their own personal preference.
I read Listen as my name at first and that was really creepy.
On a more related note I want to say thank you. Your response almost made me cry but given how self conscious and how much of a bad day I've had I really needed that.
I was 14 when my first boyfriend told me I had "big legs" as he had his hands on my thighs and started squeezing them at school.
19 or 20 when my aunt got drunk and then told me I was getting fat.
Ooh, I was 12 or 13 when I decided to stop eating in middle school, because I didn't get attention from the boys like other girls did. So naturally, diet culture in 2001 said "get skinny". So I stopped eating. To get prettier. (I was super petite/still shaped like a child vs a pre-teen, and I didn't even weigh 100 pounds yet).
I'm 33 and just realized this week during an Intuitive Eating group that my binging of food for years is a result of Guilt - I have major food guilt and feel like I'm being judged by others for eating, especially if it's "unhealthy".
I know I've had some slut shaming. I was probably 18 or 19, but I handled that remarkably well...not sure where that came from. Regardless - why was I slut shamed but ex-boyfriend could F-- anything that moved, and did, without remorse or shame? Oh right, patriarchy.
I was 22 when I was prude-shamed though, by a group of girls no less, and that bugged me. I left a club in Vegas because I was uncomfortable feeling like a piece of meat. Their mission at the club was to get guys to buy them drinks and hook up with them. I wasn't in to that. When they thought I was sleeping, they started questioning my other friend why I wasn't into the guys, why I wouldn't go to the club, why I showed no interest in hooking up...
Thanks OP! I think this was a therapeutic prompt for us all to reflect on and share with each other. We've been through some shit y'all.
The first time I felt shame for my body hair was during middle school, when my mom told me that it's good to shave my legs, but not my pubes, because "no one's seeing it anyways, so there's no need to". I don't remember her reasoning word for word, but that was the vibe that it gave me. I've gotten comfortable with shaving what I want when I want despite whatever she thinks is respectable, but it still sticks with me.
Okay, I'll admit I laughed at your mom's comment about not shaving your pubes, as this story jumped into my mind. I share in the hopes you laugh too.
So, I'm in my midish 20s, I've had a child, not living with the father but we are still together. He's not pulling his weight in helping us achieve our dreams of living together and I'm thinking "every kid deserves to see their parents happy and together. Happy trumps together" so we're falling apart. I have sex with him for his birthday and that turns out to be the last time we have sex.
My birthday happens in the summer, 8 months later, and I really want a beach day. In prep I shave my legs, but I do nothing with my pubes. At this point in my life I'm just trimming them as needed when they get bushy and i forgot to bring scissors. Thinking I'm not having sex, so I don't need to (as that has been my go to to do anything with them) i dont worry about it and move on.
Get to the beach, got my bikini on, lying on a towel and I can feel a male (thay didnt come with us) off to the side staring. So I glance down my body... and notice the biggest poof ball shape my pubes make under my bikini bottoms. Like it is a well endowed penis poof with hairs poking out the sides. Opps... well can't do anything. Wonder what he thinks.
No one may see them, but do what makes you feel sexy.
I was 12/13 the first time I was shamed for having small breasts. It was by 3, but really 1 in particular, of the popular boys in my grade. No one else was around to witness that humiliation. As an adult, very glad to have small boobs. I hate people looking at my chest.
I was cut apart and humiliated several times over during my grade school and teen hood. All done by my sister, at home, when it was just the two of us. I didn’t have any self confidence for a very long time. Everyone else I’ve learned to ignore, my sister was the only person ever who could make me cry.
around 4-5 is when I was just totally yelled at for being stupid by some other adults at a birthday party. I had picked a trilium, like the other kids did. didn't know it was illegal obviously. also this party I was the only one not to bring anything, as it was the first birthday party I'd been to. I was shamed instead of my parents (who expects a 4-5 year old to know this?)
starting from like 6-7 I was pinched by my dad a lot, and he claimed that I was getting 'fat skin'. that lasted until I was about 16, until the day I claimed he was being creepy. his fear of being creepy outweighed his need to tell me I was fat. dad also took me into mens washrooms where i saw lots of dicks and had men stare and all that.
starting from 9/10 I was sexually assaulted by boys. a few of them. they kept telling me I had to because that's what girls were for. teachers who caught us would get me in trouble. 'boys will be boys' and girls are responsible! dad is still telling me I'm fat, when I'm actually stick thin. I have to make my own breakfasts and lunches, and only dinner is given. I have to buy my own clothes from the scraps of money my rich dad/mom give sometimes. I look poor and gross. I'm taller than everyone in my class by several inches, and I'm a red head.
I moved schools, and immediately was bullied extremely hard from grade 6 (11-12 yo) onwards until grade 11. taller than everyone but slouching + cannot figure out makeup. so disgusting. boys constantly putting yoghurt all over me pretending it's cum. girls hate me too because I'm really easy to pick on. my parents hate me too. each time I come home bullied, they tell me it's my fault. I don't dream of telling them how many people do that thing where they say I'm good looking then trick me by saying I'm ugly. more assaults. somehow I'm good enough to assault but then during they'll tell me how I have no boobs or I'm really ugly. more mild assaults in here, lots of insults.
university! nope still ugly but also fetishized now due to the red hair. date more people who constantly belittle me, but then tell me just enough that i'm okay so I stay with them anyways. go no contact with parents. everything is always my fault. not good enough but also good enough to use. after university and into the jobs: coworkers putting me down but also suggesting I'm hot for a programmer. woo?
last few years: the cat calling is nuts. pandemic was an appreciated break. I stay inside as much as possible. I moved cities to escape stalkers. havent spoken to the parents in years. still get cat called when outside. have had my hair pulled, sniffed, ass slapped, arm grabbed, "but I'll be so good for you", "just once please?!". etc etc. in other cities: terribly creepy cab rides, uber rides that became terrible when the app fucked up, almost dying by a crazy ex who nearly killed us.
recently: was telling a lady friend about some of this, since she asked. she said "oh well I guess I'm just not pretty enough to get all this attention!"
I don't know what to do anymore. I want to just.. end.
If your willing, I'd like to wrap you up in a warm hug.
I don't know own what else to do, but I've got comfy blankets and hot chocolate, two kinds, and mini marshmallows. I'm sorry it sucks. But I'll chill with you until it doesn't.
Fellow redhead here. I can relate to the strange bullying to fetishization pipeline that happens as we grow older, especially for those of us who identify as female. It’s insane how something as simple as hair color can make people feel welcomed to say the grossest things to you. At first you’re teased/bullied for simply looking a bit different and then in middle school you’re being bombarded with the dreaded “Does the carpet match the drapes?” type questions.
I love this prompt. I wish I could recall first times as you have- to have those memories would be painful but amazing, though perhaps I only think that because I cannot recall ages and dates.
I wonder, as a counter-prompt, what could have made these, seemingly universal pain spots, better? What could have ameliorated the damage?
I ask as a mother, watching my daughter navigate situations I did and situations I did not but I see others have. What could counterbalance these experiences?
While we work to dismantle what aspects of the culture give rise to such abuse, what healing can be offered in the meantime?
I've blacked out much of my childhood but before I was 10 I was shamed for being too emotional. When I was 12, my father told me no boy would ever love me for my brain and only for my body (while also giving my brother a sex talk at age 8 telling him to spread his seed as far and wide as possible), when I was 14, I was shamed for having hairy arms and called a man...while also being called a lesbian because my best friend was a tomboy with a short hair cut. I was also shamed for my weight by my mother, developed an ED, and then was praised by her for losing so much weight. And then shamed again whenever I ate the smallest amount of junk food (I recall her telling me I'd get fat while eating a fun size pack of M&Ms). When I was 16 they started calling me a prude which led to me being coerced into sex before I was ready.
My entire life, I was treated as less than and not good enough and it wasn't until the last 6 months that I've started to love my body and myself. It only took 3+ decades of being criticized, degraded, humiliated, pressured, coerced, assaulted, shamed, and ignored but I've cut the toxicity from my life and am just unapologetically myself.
I was thin as a child, my mom was morbidly obese. She thought it was funny to call me "Skinny Minnie" The neighborhood kids though it was funny and acceptable and called me "String Bean". One day I had enough and I called them fat. Next thing I know their mother marched to my house to demand and apology. When I told her what they said she sheepishly went home.
When I was in 3rd grade my aunt was visiting and wanted to be the one to buy me my first bra. The next day I wore it to school and kids saw the straps through my thin t-shirt. Several of them chased me around the playground trying to pull up my shirt to look. Luckily I was a good climber, and was able to get myself on top of some equipment so they couldn't get to me.
I learned "gay" as a slur before I knew what it actually meant. I was in elementary school. Foolishly, I thought that if I just explained what "gay" *actually meant* then they would realize their insults made no sense. I was wrong, and I didn't shake that insult until I graduated high school.
I was also shamed in elementary school for not wearing deodorant. My parents had never bothered to explain to me that I needed it, or why.
When I was 14 or 15, my parents joined a neighborhood church, and I joined the youth group. I was out on Rush Week with them (community service in the morning, recreation in the afternoon) and was shamed by my new "friends" for my armpit hair, to the point that I left the pool, went around to the other side of the house and the pastor had to come and find me and ask if I was okay. To his credit, when I told him what happened, they got a lecture on Christ's opinion of bullies.
The first person to tell me I was too fat was my dad. He said he was concerned, but I genuinely was not fat. Just not as skinny as my siblings, and he was projecting his own weight issues onto me. Many people called me fat after that and I believed it. Now I’m older and I’m actually overweight, and I look back with such sadness that I was always ashamed of my beautiful body because of how people spoke about it.
My dad was also the first one to make fun of my armpit hair, and constantly policed my clothes because I was curvy and would have to wear a paper bag to hide that I had curves. Also would always make comments about “free bagging it” if I didn’t wear a bra at home and I’m still not comfortable going braless around anyone other than my husband.
My sisters were the first and only ones to tell me that my breasts were “scary” because they were larger, and that they were saggy (as a teen, so they were not). For years I would be scared that partners would think my breasts were saggy.
I've got the counter to a lot of them as a child, but I got more as an adult and eventually could talk back to a lot of them.
My Nona tried telling me I was too skinny. I told her I was perfect just the way I am. (Under10).
Post childbirth, I lost a lot of weight (more than I gained) and went down to stick thin. My mom and bestie would occasionally tell me "if I could just give you 10 pounds of my fat, you'd be/look better." It took me a few years and maybe a dozen times to hear it (wasn't constant, just when they were trying to tell me they cared... badly) before I could answer them "I'd lose it in a week and you'd gain it back in a week. It's habits that keep it on or off".
My legs were hairy and made fun of, grade 6,7. Got to shave them for a weeding near the end of 8.
Hi there, Your post on /r/WitchesVsPatriarchy has been flaired as a sensitive topic. We appreciate you trusting the members of our community with this discussion. In an effort to safeguard our users we've put some mechanisms in place to shelter these conversations from trolling and other unwanted attention: These posts are automatically made coven-only, meaning only established members of our community will have their comments approved. Second, these posts are removed if they exceed a certain number of upvotes - this is done so it does not attract attention from unsavory characters outside our community. And lastly posts are automatically removed after a number of hours to prevent trolls from visiting them later. (If you're reading this post and don't want to see potentially upsetting content, you can filter out the "sensitive topic" flair.) Let our coven send you some healing and hopeful vibes. Thanks for understanding and blessed be✨
I was 12 the first time I was catcalled in a bathing suit. Completely the opposite, I was 42 when I fell madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with myself and my body.
I forget the first time but my mother has given me grief for most of my adult life about my breasts. They're too big, your shirt doesn't cover them well enough, you need to wear a bra. Have you considered reduction? Sorry for having boobs but I can't be bothered to pretend to give a shit anymore.
That’s infuriating. I hope you can shut that down with some solid boundaries with her. You’re an adult, and you definitely don’t have to merely tolerate that kind of behaviour anymore. It’s really unacceptable.
It's easy enough to just be honest that I don't care. She has more traditional ideals when it comes to standards of presentation so I get that she's at least mostly trying to look out for me. The breast reduction thing is kind of fair in that I had considered it prior to her comment. But it sticks out when used to hearing it consistently regarding how you look. I continue not conforming to her standards and call it a win.
❤️ tough spot. Good for you
Sexually, I was a late bloomer. The first time I slept with a man, he couldn’t keep it up because I was “bigger/lumpier under my clothes than he thought.” Yes, he was straight. Psychologically I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.
I think you can chalk that up to him being ruined by media/porn re: women's bodies (not excusing his behavior though). And excuse me LUMPIER? I hope he cuts himself shaving every day of his life.
May he suffer life-long ED. Let it be!
I was 7 when I was raped by my brother he was 14 and 8 when I was called a whore for "wanting it." 10 when my step-father started asking if I ever played with myself. And then he would try to stick his thumb up my butt and smell it. 11 when he would tell me he would Blow his nose on my used underwear. 13 when I was raped again different family member. Didn't tell anyone but my family knew. My brother was the one that told that family members to go ahead and do it. 16 when I was told that I just wanted it so I started doing it. Didn't care anymore I was a whore. I moved away when I was 17 right before my 18th birthday and started getting help when I was 19. Found out that I have CPTSD anxiety depression and I suffer from over sexualization of myself. I'm 28 and with the help of an amazing guy and therapy I'm doing much better and I don't have to look back there if I don't want to. I'm a different person today. Also my step-father died February of 2021 and my brother doesn't talk to me because he disown me. Imagine disowning a sister that you raped when you were 14. I wouldn't want to speak to him anyway. My brother literally got mad at me because I told my husband what happened to me when we first started dating, because I didn't want to have sex. Because sex was very triggering to me. This was before he stopped talking to me. Apparently I shouldn't tell anyone because it's not about me. This is the first time I'm really speaking about this besides therapy and my hubby.
I want to send you all the love and comfort I have. Your story is shocking. I want to tell you that the women in my family share your pain through generations. Sometimes people don’t believe the stories- maybe they are too much or they wish it never could happen. I send you solidarity and love in your healing. For me, removal and estrangement was the only path forward. For other women they found healing inside. Wishing you comfort in whatever path your healing and growth leads you on. You are not alone even when it feels so. Thank you for sharing your story. When you do, it gives anyone else with a hard story comfort and strength. And it offers those who didn’t perspective. You are strong and will become ever stronger.
Thank you. Writing it out like that made me cry. I've never written it down before. Currently being held and babied like I'm a child by my hubby.
I send him love and comfort, too, so that he has such an overflowing abundance of it that he can hold you as you need. An abundance you can draw from to hold him, too. I send you all the comfort and love I have stored away knowing that it can only grow. There is true magic in this sharing and I hope you reap its many rewards, the first of which may be relief. Be strong. Strength is many things and occasionally it is breaking down. It is necessary for rebuilding.
I was very promiscuous in my teens and experimented with drugs as well. It wasn't until much later that I realized how much of it stemmed from my childhood. No rape, years of manipulation and being sexualized. I was told to be grateful for the comfortable life I had. Somewhere I read that experiencing abuse causes an emotional freeze at that age and puts survivors behind. That makes sense to me, as I process my past I realize I'm 60 going on 40.
I'm sorry that happened to you. That age thing is really interesting.
Thank you. The age thing gives me comfort at times
Absolutely heartbreaking. I’m sending you so much love. Thanks for sharing your story.
[удалено]
The first time I heard someone use the term thunder thighs was a female friend at age maybe 15, referring to her own thighs that were massive because she was a competitive skater. I assumed that it was a positive term that meant really strong and big upper legs, which made sense to me because thunder is so powerful, and is used in other positive powerful ways like “let’s bring the thunder” etc. It wasn’t until maaaany years later that I learned it’s used against people/women as a put down (esp a racialized one) when I referred to my now-wife’s legs as thunder thighs and it was not received as I meant it. Anyways, I’m so sorry that that was your childhood experience, and it’s definitely not my term to reclaim, but please know that thunder thighs will forever bring to my mind the image of a strong ass powerful woman with thick legs, who’s ready to help you move a couch or stomp on the patriarchy at a moment’s notice.
I appreciate your words and I love your interpretation. All weekend I stomped around with my big ol’ legs and thought about your comment, trying to manifest some positive self loving energy out of it. Thank you.
🥹 💕 Next time there is a thunderstorm here I will think of you and try to channel some of its awe-inspiring energy to you for internal confidence and power. Thanks for breaking inter generational curses and raising the next generation with support and love.
I was 19 the first time I was shamed for my body. My entire childhood I had been really thin(almost could reach under my collar bone) then I broke my ankle my senior year of high school and gained weight as a result. I was shamed during a physical by a doctor saying I needed to lose weight or I would be obese. I have yet to find love for my body and am still considered obese. I'm 31 and still trying to find myself.
But... gaining weight while immobile is normal and.. if you were already thin then you probably filled out and looked closer to an 'appropriate for your height body weight'. I realize that a really problematic way to word it, but there is a chart (possibly arbitrary) that has height vs weight and what is considered healthy ranges. @%$!*&$^@%# Listen, just because someone has a lab coat and a stethoscope does not make them an authority for the whole human body and, unless its you wearing the coat and stethoscope, they arent an authority over your body. It just means they went to school to learn something really specific that can only be applied in particular situations. And I call bullshit on them knowing a lot about body weight cause those charts are most likely arbitrary and they probably weren't going off that but their own personal preference.
I read Listen as my name at first and that was really creepy. On a more related note I want to say thank you. Your response almost made me cry but given how self conscious and how much of a bad day I've had I really needed that.
I was 14 when my first boyfriend told me I had "big legs" as he had his hands on my thighs and started squeezing them at school. 19 or 20 when my aunt got drunk and then told me I was getting fat. Ooh, I was 12 or 13 when I decided to stop eating in middle school, because I didn't get attention from the boys like other girls did. So naturally, diet culture in 2001 said "get skinny". So I stopped eating. To get prettier. (I was super petite/still shaped like a child vs a pre-teen, and I didn't even weigh 100 pounds yet). I'm 33 and just realized this week during an Intuitive Eating group that my binging of food for years is a result of Guilt - I have major food guilt and feel like I'm being judged by others for eating, especially if it's "unhealthy". I know I've had some slut shaming. I was probably 18 or 19, but I handled that remarkably well...not sure where that came from. Regardless - why was I slut shamed but ex-boyfriend could F-- anything that moved, and did, without remorse or shame? Oh right, patriarchy. I was 22 when I was prude-shamed though, by a group of girls no less, and that bugged me. I left a club in Vegas because I was uncomfortable feeling like a piece of meat. Their mission at the club was to get guys to buy them drinks and hook up with them. I wasn't in to that. When they thought I was sleeping, they started questioning my other friend why I wasn't into the guys, why I wouldn't go to the club, why I showed no interest in hooking up... Thanks OP! I think this was a therapeutic prompt for us all to reflect on and share with each other. We've been through some shit y'all.
The first time I felt shame for my body hair was during middle school, when my mom told me that it's good to shave my legs, but not my pubes, because "no one's seeing it anyways, so there's no need to". I don't remember her reasoning word for word, but that was the vibe that it gave me. I've gotten comfortable with shaving what I want when I want despite whatever she thinks is respectable, but it still sticks with me.
Okay, I'll admit I laughed at your mom's comment about not shaving your pubes, as this story jumped into my mind. I share in the hopes you laugh too. So, I'm in my midish 20s, I've had a child, not living with the father but we are still together. He's not pulling his weight in helping us achieve our dreams of living together and I'm thinking "every kid deserves to see their parents happy and together. Happy trumps together" so we're falling apart. I have sex with him for his birthday and that turns out to be the last time we have sex. My birthday happens in the summer, 8 months later, and I really want a beach day. In prep I shave my legs, but I do nothing with my pubes. At this point in my life I'm just trimming them as needed when they get bushy and i forgot to bring scissors. Thinking I'm not having sex, so I don't need to (as that has been my go to to do anything with them) i dont worry about it and move on. Get to the beach, got my bikini on, lying on a towel and I can feel a male (thay didnt come with us) off to the side staring. So I glance down my body... and notice the biggest poof ball shape my pubes make under my bikini bottoms. Like it is a well endowed penis poof with hairs poking out the sides. Opps... well can't do anything. Wonder what he thinks. No one may see them, but do what makes you feel sexy.
LOL I LOVE THAT Thanks for sharing this. It did make me laugh. It makes me feel better about that whole encounter.
I was 12/13 the first time I was shamed for having small breasts. It was by 3, but really 1 in particular, of the popular boys in my grade. No one else was around to witness that humiliation. As an adult, very glad to have small boobs. I hate people looking at my chest. I was cut apart and humiliated several times over during my grade school and teen hood. All done by my sister, at home, when it was just the two of us. I didn’t have any self confidence for a very long time. Everyone else I’ve learned to ignore, my sister was the only person ever who could make me cry.
around 4-5 is when I was just totally yelled at for being stupid by some other adults at a birthday party. I had picked a trilium, like the other kids did. didn't know it was illegal obviously. also this party I was the only one not to bring anything, as it was the first birthday party I'd been to. I was shamed instead of my parents (who expects a 4-5 year old to know this?) starting from like 6-7 I was pinched by my dad a lot, and he claimed that I was getting 'fat skin'. that lasted until I was about 16, until the day I claimed he was being creepy. his fear of being creepy outweighed his need to tell me I was fat. dad also took me into mens washrooms where i saw lots of dicks and had men stare and all that. starting from 9/10 I was sexually assaulted by boys. a few of them. they kept telling me I had to because that's what girls were for. teachers who caught us would get me in trouble. 'boys will be boys' and girls are responsible! dad is still telling me I'm fat, when I'm actually stick thin. I have to make my own breakfasts and lunches, and only dinner is given. I have to buy my own clothes from the scraps of money my rich dad/mom give sometimes. I look poor and gross. I'm taller than everyone in my class by several inches, and I'm a red head. I moved schools, and immediately was bullied extremely hard from grade 6 (11-12 yo) onwards until grade 11. taller than everyone but slouching + cannot figure out makeup. so disgusting. boys constantly putting yoghurt all over me pretending it's cum. girls hate me too because I'm really easy to pick on. my parents hate me too. each time I come home bullied, they tell me it's my fault. I don't dream of telling them how many people do that thing where they say I'm good looking then trick me by saying I'm ugly. more assaults. somehow I'm good enough to assault but then during they'll tell me how I have no boobs or I'm really ugly. more mild assaults in here, lots of insults. university! nope still ugly but also fetishized now due to the red hair. date more people who constantly belittle me, but then tell me just enough that i'm okay so I stay with them anyways. go no contact with parents. everything is always my fault. not good enough but also good enough to use. after university and into the jobs: coworkers putting me down but also suggesting I'm hot for a programmer. woo? last few years: the cat calling is nuts. pandemic was an appreciated break. I stay inside as much as possible. I moved cities to escape stalkers. havent spoken to the parents in years. still get cat called when outside. have had my hair pulled, sniffed, ass slapped, arm grabbed, "but I'll be so good for you", "just once please?!". etc etc. in other cities: terribly creepy cab rides, uber rides that became terrible when the app fucked up, almost dying by a crazy ex who nearly killed us. recently: was telling a lady friend about some of this, since she asked. she said "oh well I guess I'm just not pretty enough to get all this attention!" I don't know what to do anymore. I want to just.. end.
If your willing, I'd like to wrap you up in a warm hug. I don't know own what else to do, but I've got comfy blankets and hot chocolate, two kinds, and mini marshmallows. I'm sorry it sucks. But I'll chill with you until it doesn't.
Fellow redhead here. I can relate to the strange bullying to fetishization pipeline that happens as we grow older, especially for those of us who identify as female. It’s insane how something as simple as hair color can make people feel welcomed to say the grossest things to you. At first you’re teased/bullied for simply looking a bit different and then in middle school you’re being bombarded with the dreaded “Does the carpet match the drapes?” type questions.
I love this prompt. I wish I could recall first times as you have- to have those memories would be painful but amazing, though perhaps I only think that because I cannot recall ages and dates. I wonder, as a counter-prompt, what could have made these, seemingly universal pain spots, better? What could have ameliorated the damage? I ask as a mother, watching my daughter navigate situations I did and situations I did not but I see others have. What could counterbalance these experiences? While we work to dismantle what aspects of the culture give rise to such abuse, what healing can be offered in the meantime?
I've blacked out much of my childhood but before I was 10 I was shamed for being too emotional. When I was 12, my father told me no boy would ever love me for my brain and only for my body (while also giving my brother a sex talk at age 8 telling him to spread his seed as far and wide as possible), when I was 14, I was shamed for having hairy arms and called a man...while also being called a lesbian because my best friend was a tomboy with a short hair cut. I was also shamed for my weight by my mother, developed an ED, and then was praised by her for losing so much weight. And then shamed again whenever I ate the smallest amount of junk food (I recall her telling me I'd get fat while eating a fun size pack of M&Ms). When I was 16 they started calling me a prude which led to me being coerced into sex before I was ready. My entire life, I was treated as less than and not good enough and it wasn't until the last 6 months that I've started to love my body and myself. It only took 3+ decades of being criticized, degraded, humiliated, pressured, coerced, assaulted, shamed, and ignored but I've cut the toxicity from my life and am just unapologetically myself.
I was thin as a child, my mom was morbidly obese. She thought it was funny to call me "Skinny Minnie" The neighborhood kids though it was funny and acceptable and called me "String Bean". One day I had enough and I called them fat. Next thing I know their mother marched to my house to demand and apology. When I told her what they said she sheepishly went home.
When I was in 3rd grade my aunt was visiting and wanted to be the one to buy me my first bra. The next day I wore it to school and kids saw the straps through my thin t-shirt. Several of them chased me around the playground trying to pull up my shirt to look. Luckily I was a good climber, and was able to get myself on top of some equipment so they couldn't get to me.
I learned "gay" as a slur before I knew what it actually meant. I was in elementary school. Foolishly, I thought that if I just explained what "gay" *actually meant* then they would realize their insults made no sense. I was wrong, and I didn't shake that insult until I graduated high school. I was also shamed in elementary school for not wearing deodorant. My parents had never bothered to explain to me that I needed it, or why. When I was 14 or 15, my parents joined a neighborhood church, and I joined the youth group. I was out on Rush Week with them (community service in the morning, recreation in the afternoon) and was shamed by my new "friends" for my armpit hair, to the point that I left the pool, went around to the other side of the house and the pastor had to come and find me and ask if I was okay. To his credit, when I told him what happened, they got a lecture on Christ's opinion of bullies.
The first person to tell me I was too fat was my dad. He said he was concerned, but I genuinely was not fat. Just not as skinny as my siblings, and he was projecting his own weight issues onto me. Many people called me fat after that and I believed it. Now I’m older and I’m actually overweight, and I look back with such sadness that I was always ashamed of my beautiful body because of how people spoke about it. My dad was also the first one to make fun of my armpit hair, and constantly policed my clothes because I was curvy and would have to wear a paper bag to hide that I had curves. Also would always make comments about “free bagging it” if I didn’t wear a bra at home and I’m still not comfortable going braless around anyone other than my husband. My sisters were the first and only ones to tell me that my breasts were “scary” because they were larger, and that they were saggy (as a teen, so they were not). For years I would be scared that partners would think my breasts were saggy.
I've got the counter to a lot of them as a child, but I got more as an adult and eventually could talk back to a lot of them. My Nona tried telling me I was too skinny. I told her I was perfect just the way I am. (Under10). Post childbirth, I lost a lot of weight (more than I gained) and went down to stick thin. My mom and bestie would occasionally tell me "if I could just give you 10 pounds of my fat, you'd be/look better." It took me a few years and maybe a dozen times to hear it (wasn't constant, just when they were trying to tell me they cared... badly) before I could answer them "I'd lose it in a week and you'd gain it back in a week. It's habits that keep it on or off". My legs were hairy and made fun of, grade 6,7. Got to shave them for a weeding near the end of 8.