Paris Match uses the same formula to tell Yves Montand’s daughter to shut her face, and some other cretinous bitch praises Marilyn Monroe, now there was a woman who knew how to be a victim. Meaning: kittenish, sexy, silent. Knowing how to keep her trap shut when she was forced to crawl around on all fours at sleazy orgies. Advice by women, for women. Priceless. Put concealer on your wounds, ladies, otherwise you might embarrass your torturer. Be a dignified victim. One who knows how to hold her tongue. Our words are taken from us. They’re dangerous, everyone knows that. But whose sleep do they trouble?
What exactly do we gain by being so actively complicit? Why do mothers teach their little boys to make noise while telling their daughters to keep quiet? Why do we still praise a boy for standing out, but shame a girl for drawing attention to herself? Why do we teach little girls to be meek, to be flirty, to be sly, when we tell boys that their role is to make demands, that the world belongs to them, that they get to make the decisions, the choices? What great benefit do women derive from the way the world works that justifies our meekly rolling with the punches?
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