The amazing, sinister power of the vagina.

Courtesy of the wonderful xkcd.

Those who know me well know that I have lived my life trying to defy what those two small boxes perfectly encapsulate above. As a kid, it meant wrasslin’ tough guys, then doing football stats (a mini-job perfect for being non-girly, while still having eye candy for my inner boy-lover). From there, it’s grown into debunking any physical, emotional, and intellectual stereotypes that I face.

These days, I don’t want to debunk them. I just want them to stop:

I don’t want to hear that a woman is crazy, bitchy, or difficult if she speaks her mind.

I don’t want to hear that a woman is a whore if she has sex with someone in her field.

I don’t want to hear someone say “it’s better than marrying a feminist.”

I am sick of the men who immediately discount my opinion based on my sex, then agree with the man who says the same exact thing right after me.

I am sick of the assumptions that I will be difficult, needy, or fragile because I’m a woman.

I am sick of the double standard in media: When men write about women’s looks it is considered relevant, while a woman writing about a men’s looks is considered flighty and gossipy.

Most of all, I’m sick of the attitude that immediately pops up when you say any of these things. Amongst men and women, there is little tolerance for any dialog that focuses on sex and gender imbalance — no matter how true it is.

Adding insult to injury — in the last few years I’ve witnessed a lot of shocking vehemence and anger towards women. It’s ridiculous that in this day and age, if a relationship sours, it’s all blamed on the “irrational, difficult, typical woman.” These ranters look at me like I’m insane when I suggest that maybe, just maybe, they are attracting a certain type of women, and that it is unfair and wrong to lump everyone together. (Not to mention how they might be mis-reading the situation.)

A vagina is not a catch-all excuse for bigotry.

It. Is. Just. A. Body. Part.