During acts of violence in the United States, we tend to racialize the perpetrator and stereotype their motives. However, a white active shooter’s race is never part of the headline. Their motives are humanized as we lament on the poor mental health services of the US. Of course, anyone who commits mass murder suffers from mental health issues, yet white shooters’ racial or ethnic group isn’t part of the dominant conversation.
While waiting for weeks to find out if my unborn child would be declared a son or daughter, I scoured the internet for insider information. Pouring over potty shots on various baby websites, I learned from other genital-obsessed, with-child women that sonogram technology has advanced in recent years; identifying a fetus as female no longer rests on the absence of a penis, but now includes the detection of definitive labia. This is nothing short of a victory.
I like to point out to my I’m not a feminist, but acquaintances that until relatively recently men could legally rape their wives in the United States and that workplace sexual harassment was made unlawful in my lifetime. Earlier this year, a sexually assaulted student at one of our country’s most prestigious universities gave up her fight to have her attacker relocated out of her residence hall. After months of pleading, the university told her that she, the victim, was free to move if she wished and washed their hands of any responsibility.
Even in utero females have historically found their identity in absence, they are categorized as not male, the second half of an if/then statement, the other. They are marked as lacking before they take their first breath. We tell ourselves things have changed, that women are no longer second class. Women, we say, are out-performing men in schools. They are capable, respected, and present in every possible industry. They say we have come so far.
But in darkened rooms we still look at screens with images that tell us when there is something damaged, something suspect, something missing; the result is often girl.
Shannon J. Curtin is a displaced Yankee currently residing in Portsmouth, Virginia with her husband and dog. Her poetry has been featured in various publications including Short, Fast, and Deadly, Vox Poetica, y’all’d’ve, and The Camel Saloon. Her first chapbook, File Cabinet Heart, is forthcoming from Emerge Literary Publications. She holds an MBA, competitive shooting records, and her liquor. She would probably like you.
I will never forget the day my dad told me I couldn’t play soccer with him anymore. I was getting older and there were no other girls on the field. As an 8-year old, I didn’t understand why my brothers … Continue reading