Our brothers were bossy know-it-alls, and they did cruel things to us and to animals.
The boys in our class taunted us and always got into fights with each other. They were rude and forever demanding to be the center of attention.
In high school, they became socially awkward, struggled with the material, and became fascinated with sports.
In university, they used pick-up lines (i.e., lies) to impregnate us, seemingly unaware of the immensity of the consequence. In the lecture hall, they were always so full of self-importance, so full of themselves.
So how is it that they become our supervisors, our MPs, our CEOs? How is it they get to be in charge of things? How is it they come to have power?
Why do we think they magically become competent, mature, responsible— When they graduate? When they put on a suit?
Because apparently we do think that. I saw that magic with my own eyes happen with my brother. He graduated, put on a suit, bought an attaché case, and suddenly the world was his. His entitlement.
When did that metamorphosis happen? When did he become so qualified? So worthy?
We commonly joke that ‘B students’ become our bosses, because they’re the ones that go in to business, whereas the ‘A students’ go into the humanities and the sciences.
We’ve got it wrong. The ‘C students’ go into business. The ‘B students’ go into the humanities and the sciences. The ‘A students’ were girls. And they’re nowhere to be seen now.
[Hell Yeah, I’m a Feminist is a feminist blog, often radical feminist (radfem), always anti-gender and anti-sexism.]
