Bouncer Jieve vs. Slut Shaming
She’s dying.
She’s my age.
We went to high school together.
She has a brain tumor and she won’t be here next year.
She’s twenty-two years old and she’s friendly and gorgeous and talks to everyone and is always willing to help out a friend. She has trouble remembering what she’s said or exactly what happened when - all side effects of the drugs she’s been on throughout her life to cope with the many ailments she’s had, and the side effect of having a brain tumor.
One of the first things she did when she saw me working in this bar was apologize to being a bitch to me in high school. The thing is though - she never was a bitch to me in high school. I don’t remember her doing a single mean thing to anyone.
People assumed she was a bitch because she was pretty and missed a lot of classes because she’s seriously ill. I think she just apologizes for what other people thought of her because maybe she finds it easier than trying to explain the real situation.
She doesn’t always look ill. I think that’s the big problem. People don’t realize how sick she is because she’s out dancing.
She’s made peace.
That’s what’s really affected me about her - she knows it’s all going to end too soon so she is honestly making the best of what she has.
She confided in me that she was dying. It’s not something everyone knows.
Everyone in the bar knows her - all the bouncers, bartenders, DJ’s, the bands that come through, the regulars. I mean - everyone.
She dates guys she thinks are cute and sweet and down to earth but doesn’t want anything serious. She’s always honest and upfront about this.
She’s very beautiful and, quite frankly - often wears revealing clothing. But, you know what? it’s her body and her business and she’s lovely inside and out, so who cares?
Everyone, apparently.
People say rude things about her behind her back and I find myself defending her every time someone says - “She’s a bar skank.” Or, “A walking STD.”
I just want to punch people when they say this shit.
I was at a coworkers house a few days ago and like ten people were collectively bashing her and no one would listen to me and all I could think was
She’s dying.
She will be dead within the next year and none of them know it and they all think they have the right to judge her.
For what?
For being friendly? For dressing how she likes? For being honest with men and having a good time?
Seriously?
She hasn’t hurt anyone. I’ve never seen her do anything remotely unkind to another living soul.
And they think they know a damn thing about her because of how she dresses.
She told me in confidence - so I can’t just tell them, “Hey guys, that young woman you are saying terrible things about is dying and just trying to make the best out of what she has left, so maybe, you could cut her some slack and you know, respect what women want to do with their own bodies?”
So, I left. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand them. I couldn’t stand the way they were treating her and I couldn’t stand that they wouldn’t let me defend her and I can’t tell them she’s dying because that’s not my place.
When I was first introduced to “slut shaming” I will admit I had mixed feelings on it. Having personally made a vow to remain a virgin till marriage, it can be hard for me to not judge other people’s decisions to, you know, not remain virgin till marriage. But, at the end of the day, what other people do with their own bodies is none of my business and my decision to be abstinent has no effect on anyone else.
It’s this experience that made me realize how horrible and dehumanizing slut shaming really is. I have heard things said about this woman that are not remotely true and are horrible in nature and it makes my blood boil and my skin crawl.
As terrible as it is to say this - I hope everyone single one of them feels shitty for the rest of their lives over the things they said about her when she does pass on.
Because she should be remembered for the kind, friendly and loving woman she was.
And not as the community bike.
So, every time you want to judge a woman for what she wears or doesn’t wear or who she fucks or who you think she’s fucking.
Stop and ask yourself why it matters to you, because it shouldn’t.
Keep in mind that you have no idea why that woman has made the decisions she’s made.
And maybe - she’s dying and trying to make the best of what time she has.
