SEX(ism) and the City

“What are you talking about? There’s no inequality anymore. Come on, tell me - what rights do men have that women don’t?”

Unfortunately, there are still idiots giving me this answer whenever I complain, call out or criticize their sexist behaviour.
As if that were the whole issue. As if sexism and patriarchy had ceased to exist just because of that.
That comment is as ridiculous and shameful as the fact that I’m sitting here writing this- again.

This morning, a coworker of mine - who broke up with his girlfriend less than a month ago, is still living with her because finding a new apartment in Amsterdam is incredibly difficult, and who had been sleeping with another colleague for the last six months of that relationship - came into my office to have a little chat.
I was writing something in my planner, looked up, greeted him, and he asked what I was doing. I told him I was noting down that my period had started that morning, smiled, and went back to looking at my planner. He left.

About two hours later, he came back, clearly unsatisfied with the previous interaction and trying to start a conversation - any conversation. And while I’ll never know for sure what he wanted to talk about, I could pretty much guess, based on the countless one-topic chats we’d had for weeks: “him”.
But this time, I was tired. Tired of consoling him. Tired of giving him emotional tools to understand what he’s going through. Tired of offering him strategies to deal with the pain and rage he feels (and not because of the breakup, mind you, but because his mistress no longer wants to be with him).

So I was shorter than usual in my replies. I made it clear I wasn’t up for talking. I didn’t ask how “that whole thing” was going like I normally would. But I wasn’t rude or abrupt, there was no need for that. I simply didn’t let the conversation revolve around him or make his issue the center of everything. A bold move on my part, apparently.

In response to my demeanor my coworker reacted like this:
Him: “You’re meaner than usual.”

I laughed and hid my surprise. If this is what you think of me normally while I’m actively listening to your problems (which are rooted in very questionable moral behavior) and trying to help you move forward, then I can’t imagine how “mean” I must seem now.

Him: “You can really tell you’re on your period.”

At that, I looked up from the keyboard and shot him a look, the look - that sharp gaze with the seriousness no description would could fully capture. Calmly, I replied:
Me: “And you’re more stupid than usual.”
And I went back to work.

Moments later, he returned with a bowl of mixed nuts and apologized for his earlier comment. I thanked him and he left.

He came back a third time, pondering whether I was going out for lunch. I told him no, I’d be eating at my desk. 
He asked if I was still mad. I said yes. But this time, I asked him:
“Do you know why what you said was wrong?”

I hate having to play the role of educator - nobody assigned it to me- but I feel compelled to take it on, given the bleakness of the situation.

He said yes, that he understood. Unsatisfied by this mere confirmation, I asked him to explain.

Here’s the exchange:
Him: “I crossed a line.”
Me: “What line?”
Him: “I talked about your body.”
Me: “Do you really think that’s the issue? Do you think I’m upset because you mentioned my period- a fact I myself shared with you? The problem is that you came in, interrupted what I was doing, and because I didn’t give you what you were looking for, you blamed it on my period. You didn’t stop to consider that maybe you’re a self-centered, emotionally immature man who can’t handle his own problems. You didn’t think that perhaps you were interrupting something more important – or not. No- the issue, according to you, is that I have my period.”
Him: “It was just a bad joke.”
Me: “It wasn’t a joke.”

And no - I’m not going to sugarcoat a sexist remark disguised as a joke, not to excuse men, and not to let men excuse themselves either. Humor not only has limits, it also exposes ideology, opinion, and thought.
And that someone’s idea of funny is that, is simply and plainly disgusting, just as joking about Israel and Palestine.

Certain situations simply aren’t laughable. To believe they are, is a sign of misunderstanding of the issue at hand. As the man, you don’t get to understand the problem because you don’t have to. Because there is an entire system backing you, protecting you, and raising infantile adults incapable of recognizing that such comments aren’t “unfortunate”- your whole thinking system is vile and corrupt. And even if you understand – which I doubt -, you don’t care.

To me, this is a clear sign of sexism- because it invalidates me and makes me the source of the problem, when I’m not. You are. And I’m not going to absolve a man and let him walk away unscathed from his own social ineptitude, not anymore.

Physical violence against women is just the top of the iceberg- beneath it lies a multitude of silent abuses that always go in the same direction. 

To help some of the men in the room understand, let me deploy a football analogy:
Mainstream football is, basically, first division. But there’s also second and third division football (and probably more). These divisions are less prestigious, but they’re still football, right?

Well, the same goes for sexism.
Physical violence by men against women is first-division sexism.
But don’t forget - there are lower divisions too. And they’re still sexism.

Put this way, who knows, maybe Marca (1) will publish this. And maybe even Pedrerol (2) could talk about it on El Chiringuito (3).



1) Spanish sports newspaper
2) Host of El Chiringuito
3) Spanish TV show where men discuss football.