Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: Women’s day

Rude Awakening – Women’s Day

My father was that incredible being; a true example of how a man should bring up a daughter. Of course he had his faults, some of them big, and some of them strange, but the one thing he did with magnificence was bring me up as a person, and not as a girl.

He was only mildly interested in girly stuff, and tolerated those phases that I went through with kindness and bemusement. But mostly he was interested in developing my brain and thoughts, my talents and skills, and I didn’t feel like foremost a girl when I was with him. I felt seen and heard and understood, and I was criticised and encouraged and scolded and guided as a person.

The main result of the way my father treated me was that I expected all boys and men to treat me that way. I was shocked and angered when they didn’t and was lucky enough to be confident in my confrontation of them and their inappropriate behaviour. I was also lucky enough that nothing really bad happened to me when I was growing up.

When I was about 15 a friend’s father tried to kiss me before I entered his house. I remember laughing in his face. As a school girl, when I was catcalled at I remember swearing like a trooper (my father swore creatively and colourfully in a few languages) and it working beautifully to embarrass the catcaller. When I felt the unwanted physical attention of boys it seemed like the most natural thing to tell them to stop and to expect them to.

My father was also my confidant. I told him about my first sexual encounter and his response was perfect; concerned, practical (protection was a big deal) and terribly adult. I can only now imagine the restraint he had to have to pull off that conversation.

My father never ever made me feel the disadvantages of being a woman. And, in a weird way, maybe he should have. Because it has come upon me over the years with such force, and such distaste and even disbelief, that his way is not the way of the world. And this makes me deeply, achingly sad. Because it damn well should be.

(This musing is written for Sara Shaarawi, playwright of Niqabi Ninja, actresses Bianca Flanders and Loren Loubser, and the 4 silent Khwezi protesters)

Women’s day whine

So today is the public holiday dedicated to women, where men get the day off and the open stores are full to the brim with, yep, female shop assistants. WTF? Actually, yesterday was Women’s day, but today is the day that everyone (except the women who have to work, which includes me) gets off. Bamboozling.

We are off to a latish start; it’s raining and we need to walk the dogs. Then I’m coming home to try and finish writing my script for a deadline at the end of the week. We are supposed to be performing TheatreSports tonight (did anyone see our fab review in the Sunday Times by Marianne Thamm?) but the weather and the public hol might keep people away. I propose all women and men come tonight. Some of us players are women. Some are men. Etc.

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