The Double Standard
There’s a double standard with me and Bri. I’m not sure if this was realized last year or this year, but it was whenever she stated, “Because having boys over can get you into dangerous situations, and you don’t need that,” after I asked why it was such a big deal to people. When she had an apartment, she’d have a boy over, or she would go to his place.
Yet, it wasn’t considered dangerous for her — “I’m careful enough to not get into that situation.”
My mom had me at seventeen. I’m twenty-two, and last year I was twenty-one, so getting pregnant at sixteen was obviously never in the cards for me. And, for the record, I read about some study about how kids of teen parents are less likely to become teen parents because they know the troubles. Thus, getting pregnant at sixteen was probably never in the cards for me to begin with. Aside from that, becoming a teen parent, or having a child out of wedlock, isn’t the worst thing that could ever happen to me, or anyone.
For a while, I shoved the conversation regarding this double standard out of my thoughts because I didn’t want to spend a lot of time thinking about it. However, it’s swam back up to shore, and it bothers me. It’s like me wearing short shorts and a tank top outside and telling me I can’t because it looks like I’m “asking” for guys’ attention, yet still letting the other girls in this side of the family wear those clothes without letting it be a big deal.
It reminds me of when I lived with my mom and lard and my sister was allowed to wear short shorts and little tank tops, but I had to change out of my Soffe shorts and longish, comfortable shirt because they were “too short”.1 Sure, she’s a little girl, but even when I was an adult, I still received the same treatment.2
Somewhere on this blog I’ve mentioned that it’s a confidence and self-esteem booster for me when I wear short shorts. It really depends on whatever makes me feel really comfortable on that day, though. I guess it’s the same way I don’t find people wearing pajamas to a community college3 to be too big of a deal; I did it a few times because on those days, I’d much rather be comfortable at school than be uncomfortable and feel stiff.
It’s like the Amanda Todd story and girl — “I can’t believe her life was that bad; people should have listened when she was depressed.” When people find out I’m depressed/have wanted to kill myself, they patronize me.
The point is that there is a double standard, and it’s annoying because it’s set under the impression and assumption that I’m going to do something they don’t want — and no matter what I say, they won’t believe me after. It’s ridiculous because I hardly ever allow people to really get to know me; even with family I have walls. Therefore, they don’t have adequate information to judge me appropriately and like they already are. When it all boils down, my family literally has no clue as to who I am.
In all honesty, only Todd knows me completely.