They Shame What They Can’t Control

Happy Father’s Day to all the real fathers out there.

I ended up calling off work and going to my dad’s dinner. Honestly, I didn’t think I would after our last falling out, but I showed up anyway. He thanked me more than once—I think he was surprised. But we had a great time, and I’m glad I went.

After dinner, I spent the rest of the night with my siblings. My little brother’s a father too, and he loves to bowl, so we went out for him. I came in third place—and of course, my brothers loved rubbing that in. It was funny though.

Later, back at my dad’s house, one of my brothers started watching Love Island. At some point, he called one of the women on the show a whore for having a “high body count.” That’s when I tensed up—because if I’m anything, I’m a woman’s woman.

He said a woman with 25 bodies is worse than a man with 50. He even called some friends to weigh in. The men agreed with him. The women? Mixed responses—but most still leaned toward blaming the woman.

Their reasoning?

“Women should have more self-control.”

“Men will sleep with anything—it’s just what they do.”

So that makes it okay? Because men “can’t help it,” they’re off the hook?

Why isn’t it just as dirty?

Then someone used the old metaphor: too many pens in the same ink contaminates the ink. But if we flipped it—if a single pen had been dipped in too many inks—suddenly that’s fine?

That logic is so deeply flawed, it hurts. And the women who co-sign it? You’re part of the problem. You’re enabling men by excusing their behavior and holding other women to a standard those men will never meet themselves.

Even the Bible leans into this imbalance. Adultery is centered around women. When women cheat, (sleep around) it’s called adultery. When men cheat, it’s a mistake. A misstep. Something to be forgiven.

Why?

Because we’re “supposed” to have self-control? Or because men have spent centuries telling us we should?

Is this biological—or conditioning?

Because if you ask most men why they have been with so many women, they can’t even tell you. Some will even admit to just being bored.

If men were truly “meant” to sleep with multiple women, then who are they sleeping with—if women aren’t supposed to do the same?

They want women in categories—“wifey material,” “a fling,” “for the streets.”

But God forbid a woman has a side piece, a husband, and a trick—suddenly she’s a hoe?

Funny, because at least her options might offer something other than STDs.

The truth is, the girls they claim are “for the streets” aren’t that different from the ones they praise as “wifey material.” The real difference? Circumstance.

Maybe she didn’t have a father around. That’s the classic excuse.

Or maybe she did—and watched him play women like a game.

And now that’s what she thinks love looks like.

Behavior rubs off—not just on sons, but daughters too.

You say you don’t want your daughter to live like that—but you still desire and pursue women who do? Make it make sense.

The truth is: you view women as objects.

You hate that another man might be capable of pleasing us even more.

Because for all your chest-beating bravado, your ego is paper-thin.

All it takes is one seed of doubt to break it. One better man. One better memory.

So you reach for what you’ve always used—shame.

You call us “whores,” “hoes,” “bops,” “thots,” and whatever new word you invent next—

Not to protect women, but to control them.

You want us silent. Modest. Ashamed.

Ashamed of the power we have.

Ashamed of the fact that we could never need you as much as you need us.

Here’s the truth:

Men have been threatened by female sexuality since the beginning of time.

They hate how much power lives between our legs. So they try to control it, take it, regulate it—because deep down, it controls them.

Let’s be real.

It’s not that women need men.

It’s that men need access to women.

Women don’t need to jump from one man to another. But a lot of men do jump from woman to woman—because they don’t know how to sit with themselves.

How many men do you know that aren’t texting, flirting with, or “talking to” at least one or a few woman?

Exactly.

They will even text girls they have zero interest in just to be surrounded by feminine energy.

We’ve forgotten our power. We’ve let them run unchecked for so long that some of us started believing we’re the ones who have to prove ourselves. To them.

When are we going to stop making excuses for them and start respecting ourselves again?

And if you’re young, if you don’t know your worth yet—listen up. These men will use you, sleep with you, and then mock you behind your back. They’ll brag to their friends about what you gave them, but never give you the love you deserve.

Stop settling for five minutes in bed when you could have a lifetime of self-worth.

You want to fix these boys who think:

“Me big. Me strong. Me have meat between legs.”

That’s your king? Really?

Men who’ll humiliate you just to make their friends laugh? Men who are only loyal to their ego?

Wake up.

They need us. But they’ll keep making you believe you need them.

Journal Entry #13

I haven’t been blogging as much. I’ve been busy with school and life. I’m going through a situation right now that I shouldn’t have to be stressing about and being accused of something I didn’t do. Now it’s not as extreme as I’m making it out to be but it’s a pretty dramatic situation.

My dad kicked me out.

He kicked me out because he disrespected my cousin and when she had the voice to speak up for herself he called her disrespectful. He’s been getting away with bullying us for far too long and I was proud to call her my cousin at that moment.

He kicked her out first and she was just so quick with her responses. Everything he said she matched. Once she left he turned his attention on me. My dad has a misogynistic mentality so he doesn’t believe WOMEN should ever fix their mouth to talk to him like that. And if any men ever read this and thought the same thing let me be the first to say FUCK YOU you insecure little bitch.

Anyways once attention was focused on me he asked me why I let her talk to him that way. HUH? I didn’t LET her do anything. I can’t control another woman’s mouth. Shit I agree with her. But I didn’t say that out of respect for him.

In retaliation, he tried to, in his words, “confiscate my bottle” that I paid for. I bought the bottle for the house and keep in mind my dad is a stingy man who never shares his. Normally I wouldn’t buy a bottle big enough for everyone but I was feeling generous. But once he tried to take my possessions I immediately intervened by telling him no. He didn’t like it one bit and kicked me out and told me I couldn’t come back until I apologized. For what? Not letting you run over me? I didn’t even disrespect him. If anyone deserves an apology it’s me.

He shot me a text today saying he couldn’t allow chaos in his house and that when I’m ready we need to talk. Like hold on, why are you still trying to little girl me? I get I’m your child but that doesn’t mean I’m not deserving of respect for the woman that I am. It felt like a condescending, lukewarm apology without him taking any accountability.

On top of that, my job has still managed to overlap scheduling with the man who violated my privacy. After telling me it was my fault that he did so.

Surrounded by a world full of toxic men, but women will always persevere. I will not let them silence and demean me. I will persevere and make them all suffer.

When doing the right thing gets you punished

You know what’s crazy?

How you can do the right thing—and still get punished for it.

Yesterday, I had to work with the guy I reported to HR. He watched me walk in like nothing happened. I kept my head up, walked right past him like he didn’t exist. But I felt sick to my stomach the whole time.

What blows my mind is that another girl once said we didn’t get along, and they changed her entire schedule. But me? I report someone for crossing a boundary—and I’m still scheduled to work with him.

Make it make sense.

HR told me it was my fault because I gave him my phone. Mind you, he offered to help me. I thought he was being kind. But now I’m being told I should’ve known he was trying to go through my gallery?

So let me get this straight: if I leave work at 2AM and get attacked, that’s my fault too? Because I should’ve prepared for it?

Is it ever the attacker’s fault—or always the victim’s?

I’m not trying to play victim here. I’m trying to handle this like an adult. But this whole situation is absurd. I’m losing work hours now because they’re trying to schedule me around him—the one who violated my trust.

And just to flex, he removed me from the bartender group chat. No explanation. Just a silent reminder that he still has power over me.

This is exactly why women don’t speak up.

Because when we do, we’re met with silence, side-eyes, or worse—retaliation. This story is older than time. Women speak up, and the system tells us to be quiet, to move on, to “watch who we trust.”

But if I was someone’s daughter—his daughter—would this be okay?

Or is it only “my fault” because I’m just another outsider, another “girl who should’ve known better”?

Let’s talk about what “should’ve known better” really means.

Should I have known that a man offering help had ulterior motives? Should I have known that handing over my phone meant he’d invade my privacy? Should I have known that by trusting someone, I was “asking for it”?

Using their logic, would it be my fault if I got raped? Because my shirt was too short? Because I bent over to pick something up? Because I have a vagina?

This is what it looks like when a company protects its image instead of its people.

I spoke up. And REGAL CINEMAS retaliated.

Not the man who violated my boundaries. Me.

The same company that constantly brags about “valuing employees,” “supporting safety,” and “fostering community.” The same company that now wants to focus on me having my phone out—a rule no one enforces.

Even my boss said, “I don’t know why they’re focusing on that. Everyone is on their phone from time to time.” Then he turned around and called me “sista.” Like we’re good.

No. We’re not good.

You didn’t have my back. And now I’ve lost hours I need to survive. I have bills. I have responsibilities. I have a right to feel safe at work.

Instead, I feel exposed. Violated. Silenced.

All because I told the truth.

Now what am I supposed to do?

Continue working there? For men who don’t give a damn about me?

I don’t start my new job until the end of next month.

So do I stay?

Do I keep showing up to a place that’s shown me I don’t matter?

Do I endure the ache of uncertainty, the discomfort of being unseen, unheard, unsafe?

Crazy world we’re living in.

I didn’t think this happened in the real world.

All those trainings we took I thought it was for entertainment purposes. Oh how naive I was.

I can see why women stay quiet. But silence never was my calling.

Decisions decisions…

I’m torn. My brother is graduating tomorrow—yayyy, but I have a class. I’ve been waiting a week to talk to this teacher about my grade on a test. It’s stressing me out because I know I did better than the grade I was given. And there’s been nothing more pressing on my mind.

I know it should be a no-brainer, he’s my family I should be there for him. He, for the most part, has always been there for me. There may have been petty instances where I felt like he wasn’t but he kind of always is. My siblings and I were all we had growing up.

I want them to know that I’m their rock, their cheerleader, someone they can always count on. But I also want nothing more than to get straight A’s this semester. I want to be the best. I don’t want to be “just another student”, I want to be valedictorian.

I have high hopes and dreams. I want to set an example for all of my siblings and be there for support in all of their journeys. I want to do it all.

I feel a pull to put myself first. My family would. So why is this such a hard decision for me to make?

What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t go? Would they look at me with hurt expressions? Would they be indifferent? Would they understand? Or would they feel unloved?

But tell me a time the best has put anyone else before themselves? Especially for siblings who are disrespectful and don’t value the time you try to spend with them outside of formal events.

The ambitious side of me has taken over, and while I do feel undervalued by them, I get it. I’m the oldest, so I can’t complain. I’ve been a teenager before and was raised by the same individuals they were. They have the right to be selfish, but why can’t I be?

I don’t know exactly what college I want to go to after I graduate from VCC. I slacked around a lot during my first few years of school. I went to a major university (out of state) ended up in a crazy amount of debt came back to my home state slacked off more, took time off and reenrolled again. Coming in at a 1.4 GPA. And yet my dream is to attend an ivy league school. Not because people will know I’m the best, but I’ll know I’m the best. There’s no room to slack off now.

If chasing your dream meant disappointing your family, would you still do it?

Journal Entry #12

Started Off Great… Ended With Me Snatching My Damn Phone Back

Today started off like a really good day. One of those rare mornings where the sun hits just right and you’re almost fooled into thinking the good energy will last. I got up early for class—bright and early, which is already an accomplishment because I am not a morning person. I was running a little late, but I made it, sat down next to my usual partner, and was feeling okay… until the teacher decided to mix up the groups. Of course.

So I say goodbye to the person I’m most comfortable with and get placed with two people I’ve barely spoken to. Great. Side note: I used to think me and that original partner were aligned somehow, like something kept pulling us together for a reason—but now it feels like we’re being forced apart. Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe I’m not. Who knows.

Anyway, the new group? One person was younger and hard to understand. The other constantly veered off topic like a damn podcast with no editing. And all I could think was, why couldn’t I just stay with my old partner? We actually had a rhythm.

But then the teacher assigns us a group activity—acting out different conflict styles. And suddenly, I’m back in my zone. I immediately knew I wanted to act out the competing style—you know, the one where it’s all about getting your point across with zero concern for anyone else’s feelings. Maybe it came to mind so quickly because I’ve seen that type up close and personal more times than I can count.

The teacher gives me the backstory, and I go in—I create a full script. The girl in my group, the one who gets off topic, is nervous, so I write her lines too. And guess what? The script kills. Everyone’s laughing, including me and my group, and I feel this surge of warmth. Like maybe today is gonna be one of those days where everything just aligns. Even if nobody else noticed that moment, I did.

I think there’s a guy in class who’s interested in me. I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining it—but it feels like we keep being placed near each other on accident… or not. He steals glances, speaks to me more than anyone else, and even walked me out after class. Told me about a great opportunity at a real estate office, which was actually dope.

But the thing is, he’s not really my type. He’s older, which is a plus. He was in the army—which I like. But physically? Not doing it for me. Shallow? Maybe. Honest? Definitely.

What really rubbed me wrong was when we were in class discussing the negative connotations of words in society, and this man—this man—blurts out “black.” I said excuse me?? He tried to backpedal with “oh I don’t know, I just heard that it is.” I shut that down quick. I told him that wasn’t going on the list and to forget about it.

Then he starts telling me about his culture—he’s Cuban—and for some reason assumed I could just look at him and tell. Like, no. When I asked, he literally said, “Come on, you can look at me and guess.” Nah. Then he tells me in his culture, they’re very discriminating—as if that’s something to be proud of. What even made him think that was okay to say?

Anyway. That’s the man who (unfortunately) has a crush on me.

Fast forward to later in the day—I head to work. I just had a great morning, but work always manages to humble me. First off, I applied to another job to get more hours and benefits. They finally called me back, and I went to orientation yesterday. But tell me why the next session isn’t until the end of next month. What kind of operation is that?

Still, I go into work in a good mood. But the customers? Slick. And my coworkers? Discouraging. I tell one I’m taking psychology because I’ve always been in love with the subject, and he hits me with, “You don’t need school for that. You can learn everything through experience.” Okay, philosopher. If he actually understood psychology, he’d know better.

They act like psychology only applies to counseling. Like I’m wasting my time if I’m not trying to be a therapist. But psychology is everywhere—it’s in journalism, marketing, politics, writing, society. It helps you understand what resonates with people, how behavior shifts, what people crave versus what they ignore. You learn how to read people, how to analyze. Even how to tell stories that stick.

Words matter. Words outlive us. And if mine can help even one person feel seen or understood, how is that not rooted in psychology?

But I wasn’t quick-witted today. I wasn’t expecting to have to defend myself after such a good start. And honestly? I wasn’t as assertive as I would’ve liked to be. I couldn’t think of anything clever in the moment. They planted this little seed of doubt in me—and I hate that I let it settle, even for a second.

And just when I thought the day couldn’t get more annoying, this guy from work is helping me set up my portal for the new job—because he works there too. I hand him my phone and this man says, “I saw your nudes, thanks for that.” I said give me my fucking phone, and snatched it back. Then he has the audacity to say, “Watch your mouth.”

Excuse me?

What I should’ve said was: “You bald-headed, broke, dusty, stank old man—don’t you ever in your life speak to me like I’m some little girl. Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

I locked my gallery. I checked that. You weren’t supposed to be browsing through my shit. You were supposed to be helping me sign up for my damn schedule. That crossed a line. Hard.

He jokes like we have this love-hate dynamic, but honestly? A lot of the guys at work sexualize me. And while, sure, it sometimes gets me free stuff, it also makes me sick. They visualize me naked, they objectify me, and I hate it.

This is the same dude that calls me a gold digger, which—boy, relax. You don’t even have gold for me to dig. He stays on my ass about not cleaning up every single night, like he doesn’t disappear from his post for hours while guests are waiting on him. And I don’t say a word.

He and his little crew talk behind my back like middle schoolers. Never about what I do right, just knitpicking the flaws. Never to my face. I had to hear I was doing something “wrong” from another manager, like they didn’t even have the guts to tell me themselves.

And don’t even get me started on the managers. Hiding in closets, on their phones, earbuds in. But I’m the problem because I didn’t mop one night? I’ve been there over two years. I know when I leave, they’ll talk about me like I didn’t do anything. Like I didn’t carry weight. Like I didn’t show up.

I’m just so over it.

I wish I could start this new job sooner and leave every one of them behind—let them rot in their little cliques, talking about everyone else, pretending like they’re better than they are. Miserable, insecure people who can’t see past their own limitations.

Let them talk.

I’ve got a vision—and they’ll never see it, because it wasn’t given to them. God gave it to me.