Words by Kaila Lariviere
I punched him.
Right in the stomach.
Not just once, but twice.
My friend and I went to a local club for a girl’s night out. What started out as a great night of dancing and belting out Kelly Clarkson lyrics managed to turn into a mess within five minutes. As we were dancing, we noticed an obviously drunk boy stumbling through the crowd towards us. We moved apart to let him pass, and he parked his happy drunk ass near us. Dismissing this odd person, we continued to have fun. Suddenly, I felt someone grab my ass and pull me into their groin region. I turned around and managed to see a smug look on that drunk boy’s face quickly turn into one of confusion as I punched him in the gut. As if punching him the first time was not enough, I quickly felt another hand on my ass. Without thinking twice I immediately threw a second jab to his stomach, doubling him over. Meanwhile, my knight in shining armor, a tattooed, good looking, and wholesome man called the attention of security to remove this imbecile. He then proceeded to tell me to forget about that asshole and have a great night. He honestly restored my faith in men. So thank you if you ever manage to see this.
Children are constantly force fed the bland phrase, “violence is not the answer.” But sometimes, it is.
More than I would like to fathom.
God has graced me with a curvy figure. I have my grandmother’s breasts and my mom’s ass. Did I choose to obtain these physical features? No. But I love and embrace them because they help my perception of myself take form. I love my curves. They are for me…not you or some asshole who chooses to say “hey baby why don’t you come over later” as he licks his lips and proceeds to give me the full up-down look as if he’s analyzing my physical value.
I’m not your dog.
Nor would I wish those comments, stares, or inappropriate touches on any animal. Quite frankly I am sickened by men who feel that they can “score” with me by telling me how “sexy” I look in my leggings.
Touch me, and I will punch you.
Try me, and I will make you regret you ever tried me in the first place.
If I had a nickel for every time I was hit on, whistled at, or even touched, I would have been able to purchase a bodyguard to fend off the disgusting boys who don’t even deserve the title of a “man.”
There are multiple allegations that claim that women are the reason for men’s behavior in these situations.
My favorite example: “your outfit shows too much skin and leaves slim to none for his imagination. Maybe you should cover up more and bad things won’t happen to you.”
To be told that my outfit caused a man to touch me enrages me. My shorts and my tank top do not warrant unwelcomed feel-ups. Fashion is a huge hobby of mine. I choose to wear what I want to wear, because I simply want to wear it. My high-waisted shorts and crop top ensemble or tight dress for going out are not meant for the eyes of horny men. They are for myself. Me. I wear them because I feel like my body does not need to be confined to turtlenecks and pants. If I want to wear a shirt that shows my cleavage, then I am going to. It is for the benefit of myself, not some degenerate. Having the liberty of choosing what I wear makes me feel good I am the biggest advocate on loving one’s self, so why should I bother to cover up what God graced me with? My breasts and ass are natural to my body; turtlenecks and skirts that cover my ankles are not. Let me also point out that I live in Florida where on any given day the temperature can reach 100 degrees. So, sorry for choosing not to gross you out with pit stains. The idea that my clothes cause perverted thoughts within a despicable human being who chooses to act on them is ridiculous. If he had learned to treat women properly, then he would not lower himself to the title of a handsy asshole.
I am not calling for some long-hall reformation of 20th century chivalry. I am not claiming that all men are pigs. My knight-in-shining armor proved that to me. However, I do recommend that women learn to love their bodies and learn how to protect them. I do not believe that we will ever be able to wipe away deplorable degenerates from this planet; but, with safe measures, perhaps we can prevent them from winning. Learn, fight, punch, and scream, because sometimes, violence is okay.