A few nights ago I was at dinner where a man made a crude joke demeaning women. I don’t remember the context, just that it was something about women being “open for business”. I got so angry that I just saw red and now my memory has blurred. I can’t remember whether he was actually referring to me in his joke. Surely not.
He thought he was hilarious. I felt dirty and violated. I wanted to joke about his dick in a way that would have had him feeling nervously to see if it was still there. I wanted to slap him and knock him off his seat, kick him in the groin. I wanted him to hurt the way I was hurting.
But I didn’t. I just kind of played along, retorting sarcastically but humorously. I left. I was leaving anyway. I hate myself for being so scared, but I knew that if I showed how outraged and insulted I was he would have mocked me and made me look like a prude with no sense of humor. I didn’t used to be this much of a coward. Where did my spirit go?
The “jokes” that demean women aren’t funny. The men who have to tell them aren’t men.