I dgaf if you think I’m scary, you deserve it

“You shouldn’t be so angry and aggressive. Girls should be delicate, like little flowers,” this sickening line is a part of the spiel I received from my father every time I became visibly upset about anything.

I heard this daily during the trip around the nine levels of hell that was middle school, a time when I was much less mature then than I am now. Sometimes a situation did not warrant my explosive reaction, but as we all know, 13 year-olds are volatile, evil little things.

I reached a point where I began to conceal myself, coming off as a WWE wrestler with a chair ready to break over someone’s back. Hiding, even altering my personality entirely, equated to delicateness and delicateness equated to acceptance. I made sure not to rock the boat.

Then, there came a day when I realized I do not give a fuck if someone saw me as scary. The people who see the person I am are still in my life and I would not trade any of them for anyone.

Of course, anyone who has any understanding of being a woman knows I am not a special case. So many girls are left silent. The notion that it’s unladylike to speak up and call people out is antiquated and, quite frankly, fucking stupid.

So many times I’ve seen situations where a girl walks away saying something along the lines of “Can you believe that? I should’ve said [insert comeback] to them.” Why have they not been taught otherwise?

It’s ridiculous to make anyone feel alienated for showing emotion. We’ve established emotions are just a particular series of chemical reactions that occur in everyone’s brain, so why are some allowed by one gender and not the other?

Sure, there’s the argument that you choose what you let affect you, but when someone is acting like they’re trying to win a gold medal at the Asshole Olympics, sometimes its not worth holding back.

One Saturday during a crowded tailgate for a football game, I stumbled into a girl and her friend. I apologized and kept walking. I felt someone grab my arm to turn me around. Angrily, the girl said, “You just stepped on me.” I apologized, explaining I didn’t realize I had.

Then, she stopped me from walking away a second time and said I needed to say sorry. I responded, “Sorry, I thought you heard me, I really didn’t mean to step on you, it was a total accident.” Her exact response was, “Well, I didn’t fucking hear it the first time, apologize to me.”

The last thing I planned on doing was rolling over for this girl. Her surly remark was combatted with, “Well, in that case, why don’t you go fuck yourself.” I wasn’t stopped from leaving.

Did she assume I was some hostile psycho? Probably. Did her friend think the same? It’s likely. Do I care? Nah.

Later that same year, I went out with a friend to celebrate school finally ending. Some guy approached me and introduced himself. Five seconds after asking my name, he tried, “So, Maya, are you going home with me or not?” Please. I told him “no,” and he said, “You know what, you’re a bitch.” He received a front row seat to a showing of my middle finger.

Did he think I was some heinous? There’s a chance. Do I regret them? Nope.

My point is that if you’re ever made to feel small, or someone is overstepping their boundaries, there is no time for manners. I’m an avid supporter of common decency, but if someone denies you that, don’t hold back because you’re afraid of being misjudged or incorrectly labeled.

If you get called a name for biting back, keep your chin up like they just called you “Your Highness,” because you are a queen.