How to be a Person (When Men Don’t See You That Way)
by Meg Richards
Tips for self improvement to learn how to channel that female rage into sustainable lifestyle changes to ensure you feel like a real person - which you are.
1. Be alone
In the month that followed this emotional betrayal, I withdrew. I burned my bridges, vowing to never be treated this way again. I no longer let this man have access to me, and I realized that men’s access to me is a privilege, not a right. I went on day trips alone, ate alone, and spent 70% of my time by myself. I realized I am such a joy and a pleasure to hang out with. I decided to get to know myself better, which is easier said than done. The more I focused on my schoolwork, writing, and hobbies, the more I valued my self-validation. I sought to figure out what makes people tick, what compels a person to do something like what he did to me. I focused on this in the hopes that if I could trace the exact way the men around me were coded, I could prevent myself from getting hurt again. In the process, I realized this pursuit was useless, and instead learned more about myself and what makes me tick. This pursuit felt isolating and lonesome at times, but the things I learned about myself in this time made it worth it. Even just sitting on the train and listening to music taught me more than any conversation with the men I used to surround myself with— who often can’t list three non-appearance things that they liked about me.
2. Set boundaries
It doesn’t take much to shut a man down. A simple “that was inappropriate” in response to any comment ranging from misogynistic to objectifying sends a very clear message. When women unlearn being nice all the time, we regain that personhood that we might have been robbed of. Stop catering to men’s feelings. It is incredibly empowering to drop the nice act, especially when it comes to men you genuinely don’t like talking to. Next time that guy in class who oggles at your chest talks to you, try not smiling or fake laughing at his lame jokes. It might be awkward and uncomfortable for all participating parties, but you’ll walk away feeling unstoppable. While this may be a given, it needs to be reiterated in our age of likeability politics, and how women’s worth is measured by how likable she is. Accept the fact that some people might think you’re a bitch for being selective about who is in your life and the boundaries you set. It’s better than being constantly walked over by entitled men.
3. Be nitpicky
Start being nitpicky with the men you allow in your life. Raise your standards and never accept anyone who doesn’t meet those standards. If it helps, write it out in a list. Doll it up with stickers and doodles. Burn it or tape it to your mirror. Stop accepting covertly sexist comments from men you work with. Stop accepting objectifying comments masqueraded as “compliments'' from your too-touchy-feely male acquaintances. Stop seeing that guy who doesn’t value your comfort, safety, and enjoyment as much as his own. Unmatch with that Tinder hookup who won’t bother to learn your name. Call them out, cut them off, do whatever you need to do. But stop being easy going, malleable, adaptable, and approachable. When you lose, you learn.
It’s exhausting to constantly defend your value outside of sex, and often it results in us accepting less than we deserve in our interactions with men, no matter what form they come in. This is meant to serve as a reminder that your body is the least interesting thing about you. Every time you lose a man because you remind them of that, you’re one step closer to filling that void in yourself and becoming the person that exists deep down inside you.
There was one October night where, for the first time in my life, I had no thoughts. When I closed my eyes or tried to think of words to say, I couldn’t identify the vague heartbreak or rage I felt. Instead, I saw a highlight reel of every male encounter that ultimately led to this moment. The man who stood in front of me admitted that he liked me in spite of my personality, not because of it. Sex was the best thing I could offer him. And even though I already knew that, I accepted his treatment because at least a man was paying attention to me.
I saw a montage of every time I relied on a man’s validation as a source of self-worth. I finally realized this exercise would only leave me feeling more empty, and would never fulfill me long-term. It was the culmination of dozens of moments where, at my lowest, I let a man reduce me to less than a person. And it’d just happened again.
It’s a laundry list of incidents ranging from peculiar to creepy to violating. It’s men who are strangers, men who you date, men who you regard as your best friends. Men who you regard as your soulmate. Men who see you as the idea they have of you in their heads, not the real person you are. Men who look at you and see a hook-up, not a person. Men who you entrust with your friendship, who you show your character to, yet it’s never enough to convince them to see you as more than something for them to spritz their load into.
It’s grating to constantly fend off men who see you as a prize to be won, a sexual conquest, or a challenge. They constantly have their eyes out for a girl, like me, who needs their validation and attention to feel good about herself. But these men aren’t monsters. They are all around us and they’re not crazy or insidious or even malicious. They grew up in the legacy of patriarchy the same way we all did. They too, were taught that male sex drive is biologically wired for innate desire–needs that are always entitled to be fulfilled. They were also taught that men think with what’s in between their legs and women think with their hearts—which not only just absolves them of their objectification of women, but dismisses the sexual volition of anyone who isn’t a man.
This October, everything broke in me. I don’t mean “everything broke in me” in the way that needs fixing. Everything broke in me the way everything breaks in a firecracker… or a lightbulb going off is what you’re saying, and suddenly, sparks fly. Fireworks dance across the sky in a mosaic of awakening. A paralyzing, overwhelming wave of realization washed over me. For the millionth time, someone I saw as my friend, someone who I thought saw me for my personhood and intellect and character, in fact did not see me as those things. Rather, I was a sexual conquest. A number in a body count.
The reason that this time was the last straw was because initially, I thought he really did like me for me. In the green stages of us getting to know each other, he thought my “idiosyncrasies”, as he called them, were charming and quirky. Eventually though, it became annoying and overwhelming to him. He tried to settle for it so he could still hit it. I tried to settle for it because I needed the validation.
After this, I realized that maybe I can’t trust men who claim to be my best friends, or men who claim to be in love with me; maybe I can’t trust anyone but myself. . Vulnerability is still a lovely thing (perhaps one that should be used sparingly, but nonetheless lovely). This is meant to be a manifesto and guidebook on how to be your own best friend, and how to reclaim your narrative and find personhood when men have reduced you to less than that.