Commodified Females and The Boss

by Elouise

It’s out there.  I published it.  Why am I feeling so much more exposed now than I did when I wrote about my father?  Or even the Shopkeeper?

Not sure.  Except that it’s getting closer to where I’ve lived all my life—in the company of men.  Not just my father, but all men who feel contempt for women.

I’m feeling contempt-worthy.  I’m not sure what to make of it.  My life has uncountable contradictions and betrayals small and large.  Yet this is different.  It’s the feeling of being unclean.  Disgusting.  Loathsome.

Is this what women have to say and do and go through when they tell the truth about what’s happened and is still happening to them?

Maybe that’s it.  Telling the truth is more than a cleansing.  It’s a ritual of impurity.  Pulling back the curtain on what’s really happening in situations that seem normal, happy, good, positive, smiling role-model type situations.

Is nothing as it is?

If not, the only thing to do is pull back the curtain on what’s really happening.  Not just on the outside, but on the inside.  Not just on victims, but on perpetrators.

This isn’t a peep show.  It’s life as it is.  Not written for voyeurs, but for those who want to become part of the solution.  Men and women who want truth for themselves, and a change of heart and life.

The  difference between Us and Them is a myth.

Commodified* females
Play toys
At our beck and call
Something to dull the pain
A-muse me!
Put out the fire!
Scratch the itch!
Toy doesn’t work?
Throw it out.

* Commodify – to treat something that cannot be owned like a product that can be bought and sold

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 December 2014