I Hate Being Pretty…

TW - Objectification

I love being pretty. I really do. I’m confident, sure of myself, sharp in wit and intelligence and critical thinking. I’m fun to be around, a jokester, a class clown, the one who includes everyone and makes friends all the time. I walk into work and there’s a joyful chorus of “Kiara!!!” (but with my real name, of course).

But there’s a dark side.

Being pretty, thin, and vivacious makes men think of me as an object.

I’ve been (essentially) catcalled, ogled, called beautiful by old men, and… worse.

I wear baggy, ugly clothes for two reasons: My sensory issues due to autism, and… the disgusting ways that men look at my body.

I am NOT a plaything.

I’m insecure and fearful physically because of the way men have mistreated and disrespected me. I’ve been cornered. Had old men want to date me. Even had one guy act like he wanted to fight me.

And people wonder why I despise men.

I’m not the only one. I’ve heard others say similar things. Our lives read like a #metoo hashtag.

Say it loud for the people in the back…

~~~KINDNESS IS NOT AN INVITATION!~~~

I am so thankful to my male friends and coworkers who treat me as human, respect me, even treat me like one of the boys. I feel so much more comfortable that way… I’d rather be one of the boys than feel scared and threatened.

The guys my age treat me so respectfully, kindly, inclusively… Even when they’re into me.

The older men… They’re the ones I fear the most.

Older men stare at me, size me up, make unwanted comments.

Why can’t guys just respect me? And other women?? Why do we women have to stand up for each other and protect each other from unwanted advances?

I thank God for those amazing men in my life who protect me, intervene, walk me out so I feel safe.

Those men make it so I don’t lose faith in men completely.

But… it happens all the time. We fear because we remember.

We know. “Not all men…”

But we don’t know which men.