Non classé, prose

Another day

“I don’t need your approval. Nor do I care about what you think.” she said, her voice slightly going up.
The girl was putting her things together, cramming everything in her bag, while everyone was staring at her. The room was packed with men – teacher included – who were unequivocally animals. She knew what she got herself into when she signed on, but she would never have thought it would come to that. It is always a matter of crawling, climbing, and clawing your way up without exposing yourself too much in front of them. And exposing, she thought, in the most litteral sense possible.
“Look, there’s no need to make a scene here …” one of the men said.
“Yes, please. Calm down, sit down. It’s all a big misunderstanding.” the teacher added.
“We meant no harm” another one claimed.
She remained deaf to the words, she had heard enough. To go through machist jokes everyday is one thing, but to be made fun of like that is another. The girl knew she was no Rosa Parks, for she was not black to begin with, and instead of getting a seat she was going to leave hers, but her fight was the same. And in a definitive hope that her story would make the rounds and maybe inspire other women that could feel the same way, she knew she had to make a bigger scene out of it.
“I come here everyday, to work. And I work. I work better than each and every one of you. Not because I am a woman or because my brain functions faster or whatever reasons scientists might be trying to find. Not because I am a feminist or I don’t know what. But simply because I want it. You are just ridiculously pathetic butt-hurt males who cannot cope with the idea that a woman can do better. Duh! She has no penis, it’s inconceivable ! And on top of that, you are mad at yourself for finding me highly attractive, for none of you can resist his urges, and everytime you see me wearing a cleavage or a skirt, you stare, you drool, you have boners. And you get pissed at that too. It’s about time you realise you’re the problem and not the other way around. As I said, I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you, and I’m going to do better than each and everyone of you put together.”
Everyone had fallen silent. Most of the men were looking down, some were still staring at her in disbelief. As she rose and turned around, they all looked at her curves and immediately closed their eyes in a sort of general convulsion. She had touched a nerve, the teacher knew it, she knew it, and the rest of them didn’t even understand half of what just happened. She was not sure whether or not she should slam the door after her, so she just left it open. Everyone kept looking at her until she was out of sight, and nobody spoke for a while. To get your ass handed to you like that, the teacher thought, is never fun. But boy, I didn’t see that coming.
“Bitch,” someone said.
“Feminist,” another added.
“All the same” they all concluded.
There were nods everywhere, and the class restarted.

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