Here at the NSRCG Project we aim to bring you real stories faced by real women.
Today we have privilege of featuring the amazing blogger & YA author K.R. Conway! And she's going to talk to us about killing unicorns, glass ceilings, and the meaning of true feminism.
Kill the Unicorn
~ A guest post by K.R. Conway ~
My street was the place of flickering street lights, spaced far enough apart that the houses in between could fall into pockets of shadows as dense and dark as the licorice sold by the candy shop on Main Street. Fords would race Hondas, bumper to bumper down our long stretch of asphalt, while drugs were whispered about behind pulled curtains. Interracial couples were seen as normal, and slang was its own unique language.
My neighborhood was a bullseye for all the isms that society could cast our way. racism, classism, and yes – sexism. The kicker was, I don’t think we realized our strip of road fell into the categories that branded us. We were proud that we were a mixed race neighborhood and that our aching, blue-collared fingers brought in paychecks. And as for sexism? The girls could kick your ass just as well as the boys.
In my neighborhood, I had more guy friends than girl friends. It could have been luck of the draw, for the guys did out number the gals. Or it could’ve been the way I was raised – in a house that demanded I work hard, play hard, and never become pinned by society’s vision of what a “girl” should be.
My parents (especially my wild, free spirited mother) never told me to break the glass ceiling, rather they demanded that I ignore it all together. They told me the infamous ceiling was a unicorn, a myth designed to excuse the “isms” of society and aimed at keeping people in their “designated” roles.
On the Cape, I met other friends – male and female – who also didn’t believe in the glass ceiling. Maybe it was because the Cape attracted a weird lot of creative souls, or that we had a large and welcome diversity of people (both in race and sexual identity). Whenever I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a girl. I just saw me; a person, as strong as anyone else, as smart and determined as anyone else.
So when I chose to go to an all women’s college, I didn’t do it so I could “thrive” as a female – I figured I was already thriving as a female. I did it because the people were friendly, the academics outstanding, and the campus spectacular. Plus, I figured that the women who went to the school MUST be like me and not buy into the glass unicorn-ceiling thing either.
So I was shocked when a few of my classes focused (with a vengeance) on that infamous glass ceiling. They focused on the struggles of females, of the pervasive use of derogatory slang for women, and the general acceptance of rape as a cultural norm. Honestly, some of the classes plain pissed me off initially, because the professor (who taught both classes) definitely had a bone to pick with the entire male species (basically, she was isming everyone with a wiener, just the way she said we boob-people were bashed by the wiener people).
Many of the women in the classes agreed with her, however, and that was when I realized that I WAS THE FREAKIN UNICORN! I was a woman who lived with a rebel heart, not because I was naïve, but because I believed I was brave. I believed I was strong, defiant – a crusader, not just for my fellow females, but for all those who found themselves at the honed and brutal end of society’s labels.
It didn’t take me long to realize my school was full of women like me (though, uh, not in those classes) – both bred and raised to kick ass, and those who would be ready to throw down by the time they graduated.
Eventually, I realized that I owed my glass-ceiling-ignoring freedom to those who came before me – those women who also found themselves at the business end of an unforgiving ism and didn’t want to play by society’s labels or rules. Some were thrown in prison, some were murdered, raped, and even burned at the stake. For their sacrifices, I had to acknowledge that there probably was a glass ceiling for some. I needed to acknowledge the unicorn because to some people it wasn’t a myth . . . and breaking it had dire consequences.
I want her to be fearless, bold, daring, creative, and free. I want her to be a warrior, even if she’s a wallflower. I need her to know, that though she is raised to never acknowledge the glass ceiling in her own life, others may, and it’s her job to help them break through it and never look back. She needs to also know that she may come against someone who believes SHE should be under the glass ceiling, and she needs to set them straight (and kick their ass if necessary). She needs to be vigilant – never allowing the myth of the ceiling to become a reality for her and to fight back against injustice, in all its hateful forms.
I want her to be a true feminist, and not some papered shell of the word. I want her to understand that to be a feminist, is not to just safeguard the rights of women, but to safeguard all HUMAN rights, male and female. Feminists do not put others down or shame the male species to make themselves look righteous or martyred. True feminists pull themselves and others up to stand along with them and fight against all isms and ignorance-fueled hate.
If I leave her with nothing else, I want her to remember that I believe in her bravery to slay the unicorn, and not just for herself, but for everyone, boobs or not. I believe in her beautiful, female rebel heart.
What do you think makes someone a true feminist? Have you killed the unicorn in your life, or is the battle still ongoing?
Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences with us in the comments section.
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About the Guest Blogger
Young Adult Novelist, Graphic Artist & general maniac.
Learn more about K.R. Conway here
Links
Cape Cod Scribe - Blog site of author K.R. Conway: http://capecodscribe.com/
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