I wish I’d known, from the time I was a little girl, that my worth was not defined by my relationship to boys–not whether I liked a boy, was desired by a boy, or whether or not a boy had ever stuck his dick in me.
I wish I’d known that boys would be taught to view me as an object–by society and sometimes by their own parents–and I’d have to fight that objectification tooth and nail forever.
I wish I’d known that the whole virgin/whore dichotomy is a bullshit racket designed to rain shame and guilt down on any girl who wants to control her own sexuality.
I wish I’d known that I had a right to say no. Always. No matter how I was dressed. Or how far I’d let him go. Or whether or not he’d bought me dinner.
I wish I’d known that I could own my own desirability. That I didn’t have to rely on boys to tell me whether or not I was attractive, and thereby worthy.
I wish I’d known I could tell the sixth grade boy that told me I was ugly to FUCK OFF. I wish I’d known I didn’t have to believe him.
I wish I’d known that no matter how much alcohol I consumed, no one had the right to fuck me without my consent. Even if I slept around a lot. I wish I’d known that I had inherent value simply because I exist.
I wish I’d known that boys were not superior to me in any way. They were not ever better leaders, stronger, or more resilient–unless I let them be.
I wish I’d known that I could do something other that giggle when boys hurled sexual innuendo at me.
I wish I’d know it was okay to be a girl, to set my own limits, to chart my own course. I wish I’d known that I could say NO loudly–to many, many things.
But I didn’t.
So, now I gather all the knowledge that I wish I’d had, and I pass it to my daughter. Because she deserves better than I got.