Image courtesy of Eyesoreland. And Allah knows where they stole it from.

A Day in the Life
of a Bitch Whore

A reply to "A day in the feminist life"

The following text is a parody of one of the web pages of the Thinkbomb site. The text was submitted by a woman who took issue with my page and has drawn up a list of events that happened in her day, to suggest that a woman's life may also be dominated by the opposite gender's agendas, opinions and actions. As the ideas were substantial, critical and thought-provoking they have been given a page of their own.

6:00 AM: I wake up and make some breakfast. I turn on the TV for once because I am early, and the morning news is on. Another 18 year old co-ed was raped yesterday, walking home from class. Her skull is fractured and she is in the hospital. The way they describe what he did to her, it almost sounds like an advertisement for rape. I try to put it out of my mind, after wishing for her to get well. I try not think think of my own memories.

6:45 AM: Out of the door for work. I arrive to my desk a few minutes early and I check my email. There is a forward called "Jingle Bells" from one of the partners in the firm. I open it up and it is a picture of four naked women, their breast bouncing in time with the song of that name. It was sent to all 18 employees in our small "conservative" company. In this case, the word conservative means no blacks, no Jews (that they know of), and no women in leadership. The partners are men. All of the Investment Bankers are men. The clerical and research departments are all female, even though two of the four of us females have degrees in Finance, and roughly half of the Investment Bankers have degrees. I ponder this but let it go. What can I do, sue them? Lose my job? Come on, thats not a realistic option, much less palateable to me.

7:00 AM: Even though I am a research assistant, and not a secretary, a Junior Investment banker (sans degree) asks me to make a pot of coffee and serve it to the (male) executives in the meeting. As a hint I say that with no clerical experience I might not know how to purport myself in this role, perhaps Bob Rhodes could do a better job, he laughs and walks away. I do the job and get back to work thinking that the four years I spent maintaining a 4.0 at the University mean very little if I don't have a penis.

8:00 AM: As I walk into the break room two of the Bankers are talking about a "chick" one of them "screwed" last night. I keep my mouth shut but I feel dirty. One of the partners walks in and sees me, hears them. He immediately tells them that their conversation is a liability to him in this day in age. Not a word to me, I don't exist.

11:00 AM: I take the elevator downstairs for lunch. On the 15th floor a grungy man gets on and tells me that I have nice legs. I move away from him thinking of the girl on the news this morning. The nameless fear comes over me, the fear I can't push away no matter how big my gun is, no matter how much karate I take. The fear I have known since I was kidnapped, beaten and then raped by a father and his teenaged son and left for dead in a field 30 miles away from my home at the age of 15.

11:25 AM: My cell phone rings, it is my sister. She is pregnant again. She had stopped taking the pill since her husband started screwing the babysitter, she hasn't had sex with him in 6 months, until a month ago when he was drunk and forced her. They don't call it rape when she is "his wife". Sex slave is implied. She doesn't want another child, with three she won't be able to leave him again for a while. She is finishing her degree in Chemistry, she has been going to school part time for 7 years since her first daughter was born, and working. I tell her to get an abortion, I will pay for it. She says she will think about it, but she is crying. Why don't men have to deal with the consequences of their actions, namely pregnancy? It must be nice to be able to send a check every month to fulfill their legal obligations. Another thing to put out of my mind.

12:00 AM: I return to the office and find a memo in my email inbox. We have hired a new Banker, a young man. After 6 years at this company, a degree in finance, and night school for my MBA, I have gotten no more than a 5% raise each year. No promotions, only more responsibilty. I handle all the work for the so called "System Administrator" while he and I both know he is computer illiterate for the most part. I keep his secret and do his work while I pull in 1/3 of his income.

3:00 PM: Jim calls my office phone to ask me out for Friday. I decline politely. After the first date when he shared with me that "no woman of his will work outside the home" and then asked me how many lovers I have had, I didn't want to waste another evening in his company. He asks me why and I am honest with him. He calls me a bitch and hangs up. I think of Chris and wish that our years together hadn't been so short. If only that bastard in the other car hadn't driven drunk, I would be going home to him in an hour. I feel tears coming to my eyes and I chide myself for thinking of Chris at work.

5:10 PM: I have left the office and walk to the train. I stop at a newsstand to buy a paper. On the front page is a picture of a woman in a veil. The article is about women in Afghanistan. I mourn for the religious tyranny they have lived under for so many years. Don't they circumsize women over there? They steal the sexual pleasure of innocents before they even begin to discover it. How awful. How much better to make non-human procreating sex slaves out of them. But I wonder what degree separates that from my own existance?

5:30 PM: I arrive home and make some dinner, when the phone rings. It is a college friend, Lars. He and Richard, his partner, have invited me out for drinks tonight.

7:00 PM: I take a cab to meet Lars and Richard at the club. We have a few drinks when I leave the table and go to the ladies room. A cocktail waitress is touching up her puffy red eyes with makeup. I can see that she has been crying and I ask her what is wrong. She turns and explains to me that a drunk customer pushed her up against a wall and fingered her under her short uniform. Some guys at a nearby table cheered for him and laughed. She told her boss but he didn't want to make a scene. He kicked the man out quietly, but did not call the police. She wants to quit but she has a small boy at home to support, and all waitressing jobs are the same anyway. I hug her, a complete stranger, and do my duty and then go back to my table. Put it out of my mind.

10:00 PM: We had a great time. I flag down a cab and get in. He takes me on an unfamiliar route and I complain. He says this is the fastest way, but I argue that I have lived on the same street for 6 years, and that it know my way home. When I arrive home, 10 minutes later than I expected, the fare is considerably more than the fare to the club. I pay it, but then I spend another 45 minutes on the phone reporting him to the transportation authorities.

11:00 PM: I can't sleep so I get on the internet to find reviews for book that was just published by a colleague of my mother's, a cancer survivor. I type the title of the book, "Bound and Determined" into a search engine. Great, there is a website by that name. I click on the link and I see four different pictures of women tied up with looks of terror on their faces. In one, a man holds a knife to a girl's throat. In another her breasts are black and blue and she is being raped by a dildo as she turns her face from the camera. In a third picture the nameless women hangs her pale face limply to her chest as she is strung up from the rafters. I shudder and wonder if she is dead. Do they regulate this stuff? Can this be legal? In a fourth the woman has lost control and urinated on herself. She is tied to the wall on what looks like a street, and she can't be eighteen. Her mouth is open in a scream. I have seen all I need to see, and I have been once again reminded that I am of the weaker sex. Sickened, I crawl into bed, but cannot sleep. Finally I fall asleep to nightmares of when I was raped at fifteen.

This day was brought to you by Astrid east_village_nyc@yahoo.com

Got something to say!? Contact Thinkbomb and leave a message. I no longer post messages but I do reply.

Don't forget, there is also a wealth of material on the page links below. Includes facts, opinions, satire, news and references.

Go to top