Monthly Archives: September, 2016

An Open Letter from a Jane, to the Assholes She’s Dated Who Say Stupid Things When They Find Out She Knows Self-Defense

Most women who have taken a self-defense course, and then had the audacity to talk about it, have probably had the experience of being subjected another person’s perspective on why women’s self-defense is problematic/stupid/pointless/cute/sexy/offensive/etc.    Those comments are offered in a variety of contexts:  family dinners, office events, on-line chats, happy hour, gym workouts, dates.

So has Jane.  Who is Jane?  Jane is the middle student down the street who’s taking martial arts.  She is your great-aunt who went to the self-defense program at the local community center.  She is the young girl who stands her ground in the playground,  the college student who takes a self-defense class on campus, the women who organize against harassment on the street or in the workplace, the woman who had yet another date with someone who said, with a smile on his face, “Oh, you know self-defense?  I’d better watch myself…I guess you can kick my ass”, and then waited for you to laugh.

And so below, is one Jane’s response, after a date:

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Dear Assholes,

If we’ve gotten this far and are on a date, then you have had at least a few conversations with me and therefore allegedly have been listening when we’ve exchanged the usual pleasantries, including, but not limited to, “So…what do you do?”

And if you were listening, you would know I do a lot of things – I’m a feminist, I write fiction and snarky non-fiction commentary, and yes, I teach self-defense.  Now that combination should tell you a number of things, including:

  1. I teach self-defense (I know I’ve already said that, but you clearly are not listening, so I feel the need to say it AGAIN);
  2. As a feminist, I’m not likely to find your stupid, misogynistic comments about self-defense remotely witty, smart, sexy, or compelling;
  3. As a writer, anything stupid you say is likely to end up in a blog post or open letter somewhere.

And yet, you persist – why?  Did you think that I would find your belittling of my chosen profession charming?  It was, admittedly, more charming, relatively speaking, than your complimenting my ass, but again I’m speaking here in relative terms only.  And sure, I can appreciate that you took the high road by not calling me a feminazi, a sinner doomed to spend the afterlife in Hell, or such a strange contradiction because, despite my physical power, you also find me physically attractive.  Did you expect me to simper, to blush, to bat my eyelashes, when you chuckle condescendingly as you say something like, “Oh…I guess I better watch myself, or you’re going to kick my ass, right?”

Yes, Assholes.  Spot-on.  Okay, not literally spot-on, because I would not actually kick your ass just for saying something stupid; furthermore, as any self-defense instructor would tell you, it is best to go for the areas where you can achieve the most pain, such as the testicles.  But you get the idea.

In my other profession as a college professor, however, I do get to deconstruct your ass (-inine statement), and here’s my analysis:  your tone is mocking as you indicate you’d better watch yourself, which suggests to me that you actually do not think you need to watch yourself, because if you wanted to step over some line and try to rape or assault me, you believe, in fact, that there is nothing I could do to stop you.  That’s what you mean, yes?  Yes.  That’s what I thought.

So two points on that, Assholes.  First, there are decades of data suggesting that women are extremely capable of fighting back against sexual assault, and capable of doing so successfully; if this were going beyond a first date, I could bring you a reading list, but since it’s not, I won’t bother. In fact, you might be the final-straw Asshole who made that comment and drove me dashing to the bathroom to compose this letter on my smart phone, and if that’s the case, I’m not even coming back to finish the first date.

Second, in some totally fucked-up way, I am guessing you’re attempting to be charming and trying to get into bed with me, which I assume is all you want, since you are saying stupid offensive things about me and my line of work on a first date, and therefore this can only mean that a) you have no fucking idea who I am, and b) you actually don’t care who I am, because all you want is to do is get laid, and I happen to be the unfortunate woman closest in physical proximity.  And so your strategy to get laid is to say, “Hey, you know I could rape you if I wanted to”, all the while expecting me to giggle like a school girl, relieved that I have found a real man who could withstand my attempts to fight back?

No.  Not happening.  So here’s what you need to know in parting, Assholes, and yes, I mean parting literally.  Because I’m never going to see you again.  Why you would want to see me again is beyond me, given that I neither simpered nor blushed nor batted my eyelashes in response to your stupid comment, and yet you do, which only provides additional data for both points a) and b) above.  It’s bad enough that I just spent an hour/a meal/an evening with you that I can never reclaim, and no, I will not go out with you again, ever.

So know this instead:  it is neither charming, nor witty, nor appealing, to suggest to a woman that you can overpower her, to imply that if you want to have sex with her there is nothing she can do to stop it.  Nor is it accurate And she doesn’t even have to have taken a self-defense course to prove that to you.  And so, to address the literal content of your comment:  Yes, you better watch yourself, or I am – or some other woman is – going to kick your ass.

In closing, then, the answer to your question is “Yes.”  Yes, I can, and yes, she can, and she can, and she can.  And we will, if you put your money where your mouth is.  So shut the fuck up already, go take a women’s and gender studies course, and stop being such Assholes.

Sincerely yours,

Jane

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Open Letter to Mr. Splashy Pants

Dear Mr. Splashy Pants,

Congratulations on being an amazing Internet meme. How’d you do it? You stand for a great cause–GreenPeace wanted to make people more aware of the whales that were threatened in Japan–and you emerged as the people’s choice for icons in this movement.mister-splashy-pants

But you were the underdog (underwhale?  underwear?).  Most of the names for the representative whale were serious, symbolic, ethereal names like Anahi and Kaimana.  And yet you prevailed, because GreenPeace left it up to a vote over social media.  When you won, GreenPeace pulled the old “we’re going to keep the contest open a while longer” trick, at which point your supporters only became more emboldened, determined to see their beloved Mr. Splashy Pants the name of the GreenPeace whale.

That’s why we’re writing you for advice, Mr. Pants, in hopes that we could make the kind of splash on social media that you have.  We’ve blogged serious stuff. We’ve blogged silly stuff.  We’ve submitted a video in response to the one that the CDC did.  We just don’t have your supporters or your success.  But we know, Splashy, that you understand the importance of self-preservation, and fighting back against those who would perpetrate violence.  We know you get it, Splashy.

Please write with any suggestions as to contests &etc.  Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jill & Martha

 

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