msimmons-writing

[msimmons-writing]

The Man with Voices in His Head

Too many voices in my head None of them will stop Some of them wishing they were dead I don’t want to be near anyone now I’m afraid just to be fed I feel like I’m losing my mind Where’s it gone I need a med I no longer want to do a thing Ill seclude myself in my bed No more mom and no more dad I shall now say goodbye to the life I once lead I’m sorry to say I’ve gone insane And now I’m the one who’s dead just your luck you selfish punk, god scoffs you weren’t insane You had a power to save lives inside your head

[msimmons-writing]

The Realization I promised myself that I would never turn into my mom. I would never marry a man resembling my father, not in look but behavior. I would never let a man force me to do what I didn’t want to. I would never become the girl who felt scared when they saw their lover. But here I am laying high on the floor- clutching the trash of my deliciously unhealthy vice- trying to drown out Scotty’s screams.

Scotty is everything I’ve ever wanted. He is sweet and thoughtful, and most importantly, he loves me. He’s the only person who could ever love someone like me. Scotty is the first boy to tell me how beautiful I am. He told me he loves me regardless of my masculine looks and permanent sun burnt face. I could never find another like him. The only part of Scotty I would dare to change is his temper. When Scotty gets angry, he’s frightening. I want to run, but I know I deserve the rage so I stay to take my punishment. I have to remind myself that Scotty loves me and wants to help me learn from my mistakes. I don’t know how I could live if I didn’t have Scotty. Scotty came home from the shop today, and told me about how awful his day was. I know it was my fault he had such a terrible day; burnt toast is no way to start the day. I let him degrade me, and I understood when he made my red cheeks even redder. Then the “what ifs” bombarded me. What if I never met Scotty? What if my parents didn’t give him their blessing? What if I left Scotty in the middle of the night or when he was at work? All of the “what ifs” dissipated as soon as Scotty got on his knees to kiss my forehead, “Jenny, you know I love you more than life. I’m so sorry, my love, that I lost my mind again. You don’t put the same effort into the house as I do at the shop, and that puts me over the edge. It won’t happen again.” Scotty knows all the right words to ease my worries.

We had a great dinner, and after I performed just as he wanted. Once we were done in the bedroom, Scotty offered an alternative to our after-love cigarette; he called it Mary Jane. After much persuasion I agreed to smoke the Mary Jane with him. The sensation was something I never felt before. My head was light, and my brain was cloudy. I thought I was looking down at my life from someone else’s view. Scotty didn’t feel nearly as good as I did, so he drank gin to help feel cloudy.

The hunger came instantly! I didn’t even think about the consequences of eating one of Scotty’s work treats as I stabbed three squares into my mouth. My mouth full of stolen chocolate. Scotty grabbed me and we danced like it was our wedding night again. As we spun Scotty’s eyes lit up, I could see all of our love looking into those chocolate eyes. Suddenly, I was being dipped and kissed. After he pulled away, I took the opportunity to have another bite before we started spinning. All of the love left Scotty’s eyes when he saw I was eating his chocolate. I was on the floor, chocolate across the kitchen, the only thing I had was the reminder of my mistakes.

Here I lay on the floor watching Scotty scream like I’ve never seen before, thinking much darker “what ifs.” What if I never get off this kitchen floor? What if I pushed Scotty too far? What if I didn’t put the carving knife from dinner away? The realization- I didn’t put the carving knife away.

[msimmons-writing]

Women's Bodily Autonomy < Men’s Comfort

Us women are done being exploited by dress codes. All women have experienced the unfair treatment of being told what they’re wearing is not appropriate. That it’s too distracting to other people, or that they’re not wearing proper attire for their body shape. Dress codes are sexist, they promote body shaming, and they sexualize women. I encourage you to fight with me to make dress codes fair to all genders.

I have been dress-coded more times than I can count. My body developed at a very early age, and I’ve been chastised for it ever since. I was berated for distracting the male students and teachers. Apparently, I didn’t dress properly for my body type. Some of my teachers went as far as telling me that I looked like a slut. Shirts made for girls my age didn’t typically accommodate breasts of my size. Shorts, skirts, and dresses weren’t made for a girl like me with six inches of extra leg. Despite the eating disorder that my teacher’s criticism caused, I couldn’t change my body type to their liking. I also couldn’t fix the fact that clothing didn’t fit me like it did the other girls. Regardless, I was still punished for looking the way I did. I can say with certainty that my story isn’t just my own, and many other women share it.

                Women are constantly getting into trouble for dress code violations that men would never have to face. Growing up in sunny California I frequently saw my male classmates wearing bro tanks which sometimes showed off their nipples. Us women gravitated towards spaghetti straps and other thin-strapped tank tops. I can’t remember a single instance in which a male student was dress-coded for this, but you bet us women were dress-coded every time. If our straps weren’t two fingers wide, we were forced to wear an ugly and stinky P.E. shirt. To reiterate: all to keep the men distraction-free! Women are being told that their bodies are a distraction for men. Essentially, we’re being told that men’s comfort is more important than our own. Dress codes enforce that a woman’s education and career are less important than those of a man. We are being taught that we need to change our comfort because some men can’t control their impulses. If that isn’t sexism, then I don’t know what is.

                In middle school, I was dubbed the dress code queen, which is a fancy way of saying I had the most dress code violations. There were days I would wear the exact same thing as another student, but I was the only one dress-coded. I had a teacher tell me, “This is my first dress code in my 20 years of teaching.” Wow, glad to know my body is so outrageously offensive to you that you would break such an impressive streak. I still wonder what she was trying to accomplish with that statement because if it was to make me feel ashamed of myself, you go girl, you did it! The dress code violations have followed me into adult life as well. A year ago, I wore a pair of shorts to work that went well past my butt, and I was told I was too inappropriate for work. My ex-employers dress code said that shorts have to cover three-fourths of the thigh; on the average woman that’s where those shorts sit. I was not allowed to wear the same shorts as the average woman, because my legs are longer. I was being told my legs were different, and therefore too inappropriate to show.

                In my school days, I was often told I looked too sexual to continue to wear my own clothes. Teachers were saying this to me, adult teachers saying this to a 12-year-old! The repulsive act of a teacher trying to determine if a child looks too sexual for school turns that learner into a sexual object. Let’s not forget the obligatory, “you’re distracting the male students, and male teachers” which teaches girls it’s their fault they’re being sexualized. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been told that I was asking for something because of the way I dress; even by other women. A female friend of mine told me that my choice in clothing reflected how little self-respect I had and if I didn’t respect myself, then no man ever would. I was taught to believe that it was my fault that men made unwanted advances. It was my fault that adult men would be attracted to me, as a teenager, and I was to blame for them disobeying their moral code of not hooking up with minors.

                School districts and human resource departments can help us make a lasting change in dress codes. Schools and workplaces need to institute a dress code that will prevent sexism, the promotion of body shaming, and the sexualization of women. I believe the right dress code to adopt is the one that the Oregon National Organization for Women (NOW) created. Oregon NOW Model Student Dress Code (2016) holds the basic principle that “Clothes must be worn in a way such that genitals, buttocks, nipples are covered with opaque material. Cleavage should not have coverage.”

                Some people won’t want to change the dress code rules, because they don’t like to see a certain body type. A year ago, I was talking to a faculty member of my old high school about this issue, and they corroborated that many teachers in our district felt this way. Through their daily supervision of the student body, they observed that only girls who were overweight or deemed unattractive were given dress code violations.

                Together we can fight to change what dress codes say about us. The first step to change is understanding that sexist dress codes body shame and sexualize women. I urge you to lobby your school and work to adopt Oregon NOW’s dress code model. Protesting is a great tool for us, as it shows that we’re serious and won’t back down until we get what we want. The most important thing we can do is stand up for the women who are unjustly dress coded. The only way we win is if we fight together. With the ratification of a new dress code standard, we will be empowering women for years to come.

Oregon National Organization for Women. Model Student Dress Code. Oregon, Feb. 2016 http://noworegon.org/issues/model-student-dress-code/ PDF of dress code is at the bottom of the page and is the first link under “Additional Readings”