If I Should Have A Daughter - Sarah Kay

If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. "Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

The Epidemic of Being Whipped

Let’s take a little quiz

Do you have a girlfriend?

○ Yes

○ No

Is she annoying?

○ Yes

○ No

 Does she call you when you’re with the boys?

○ Yes

○ No

Are these calls persistent?

○ Yes

○ No

Does she insist that you talk to her/be with her instead?

○ Yes

○ No

Does she go berserk when you’re in the company of another girl? (even when you’re other guy and girl friends are there with you)

○ Yes

○ No

Does she do this all the time?

○ Yes

○ No

Were most of your answers, yes?

○ Yes

○ No

Does that mean she keeps your balls in a jar next to her bedside table? 

○ Highly Likely                                                                          

○ *Sudden realization of great truth*

○ Oh shit, yes!                                                                            

○ Oh no! My balls!

As a journalist, there are a few skills that one is required to master.  Observation, a keen and ever-vigilant eye for anything out of the ordinary. We can spot trouble from a mile away; we will then run towards it. The Art of Eavesdropping, the ability to listen to and process another person’s conversations while pretending not to do so.  And finally an eager interest in everyone else’s business. Over the last two months I've been mastering these skills required for my job when I happened upon a rather shocking development.

One out of every five men is ‘whipped’.

Whipped

wɪpt/

adjective

When a man is controlled by his girlfriend, almost entirely. To the point of embarrassment when his friends tell him that he is her 'little bitch'.

 “Man, John is totally whipped.”

                                                                                         (Taken from the Urban Dictionary)

“Being whipped is turning into an epidemic of sorts (no, I’m not making an Ebola joke, that shit is serious)

I’m a woman. I have a boyfriend too and I know that I am capable of nagging and very annoying behavior.  From the very long shopping trips, the sudden need to eat whatever I’m craving for, the PMS… oh the PMS… the crying spells, the neediness, the possessiveness… Oh Lord, the possessiveness... Yes, I get all of that, but what I don’t understand is why some women have to be so damn controlling. Would you like it if you were out on a nice lunch date with your girlfriends and your boyfriend calls you incessantly going:

                

                               “Hi baby… what you doing?... yeah I know I called you only 5 minutes ago, but I was wondering if you were done eating your French Toast with apples and walnuts.. Who’s with you? Is Cynthia there? Why isn’t she there? Oh Jennifer is there, is it? I told you not to hang out with her... why do you do that? It’s so annoying when you don’t listen to me… do I need a reason not to like her?? I JUST DON’T OK!!!  *insert emotional blackmail* … If you don’t come see me now I’ll never talk to you again! Am I more important or are they….” (Half an hour monologue ensues, by the time he’s done your friends have a mild feeling of hatred towards your oh-so-beloved one)

Do you see how frickin’ annoying it is to just read that? So why do you do it? What do you get out of it? Tell me, I am dying to know.  But don’t even think about selling me the feminist angle. When I told my best friend/soul mate/attached to the hip person, Samah Mariam, that I wanted to write a post on ‘Being Whipped’ we were talking about it from the perspective of being a feminist and we instantly agreed that we wouldn't consider this as a feminist approach. Feminism is about EQUAL rights and EQUAL power, this is Femdom.

I’ve tried to rationalize this every way possible and I’ve come up with a few relatively reasonable theories. Firstly, you don’t trust the man and your insecurities get the better of your forcing you to breathe down the poor guy’s throat; that’s just sad. Secondly, you’ve got no friends or social life of your own. If that’s the case why don’t you just join him? Meet his friends, get to know them, chill with them, but give the man his own space too, or even better, get your OWN damn friends! (I wonder if your lack of friends must have something to do with that attitude of yours?!) Third-ly, you’re a bitch. Let’s admit it, you take pleasure from this sadistic act of hanging on your man’s balls and making him dance to your tune like a little wound up monkey. I get being a bitch as an ‘No I don’t take shit’ kind of thing, but being a bitch to someone else, just because you can, now that’s a situation there’s no cure for. And finally, the ‘I care about what he does and who he does it with?’ let me start by saying, don’t even try to sell me that. It’s called ‘Deja Moo’ because I’ve heard that BULL before. Just let the man BE a man.

And speaking of men, I honestly I feel so sad the men who are at the mercy of their dominatrix. According to my boyfriend, being with a woman like that is similar to being neutered. And I agree. So why do you put up with it? Because you’re trying to be a gentleman? Sometimes even I, a woman with very strong feminist views think some women really do deserve a tight smack across the head. You know, just to put things into the right place.

Dear Gentleman, if you’re with one of these women then trust me when I tell you this: If you know what’s good of you, RUN. Leave her a nice little note, like one of those “It’s not you, it’s me” thingys, take your bags and flee the country, because unlike what you think, women like that aren't the missing piece of the puzzle you keep searching for. Marry her and you’re literally finished.