Come With Me

"What do we tell our daughters?"

"What do we tell our girls?"

Your daughter has known since the first time she felt wandering eyes on her body, which was before her first period.

She has known the discomfort and fear of a something's-not-quite-right man wading a little too long in her presence since elementary school.

She's been sent home and called out for tempting men since before she could drive a car.

It's not your daughters who need to have the world explained to them, their sexuality expressed to them, boundaries enforced on them.

What are you telling your sons?

In the past 24 hours, I've had these phrases uttered at me by men who I truly feel were trying to be lighten the mood (though with crass attempts), or relate, or just reach out:

"You would've made me beautiful babies."

"You're being a pussy."

"I know how you feel."

This is not the time to attempt humor, or use language intended to demean (but more than happy to provide an educational conversation about the strength of a uterus any day of the week), or tell me that your heart aches and pulse races like mine.

Tell me. What are you telling your boys?

Your brothers?

Your friends?

Because if you don't come for them --

I will.

And not in that way you like.