I'm Angry at All the Women Who Told Me I Shouldn't Be a Whore

Turns out, it is very easy to become one

Ever since I was a little girl, I learned I was not supposed to be a whore. I was told that would be very, very bad.

Such status would mean I was indecent, unworthy, unreliable, and, above all, not a nice girl. After all, whores destroy everything and anything in their path. Therefore, it was in my best interest to do everything in my power to avoid becoming one.

As it turns out, the problem is that it is very easy to lose your way and land in immoral territories.

I should have known better.

It all begins with your body. Is it indecent? Back when I was still a child, my body betrayed me with all of those pesky changes. My breasts and my ass grew, causing temptation. After all, how could a grown man resist staring at a 13-year old's breasts when they happily offer themselves to every passerby? Yes, I was wearing my school uniform, but I was told I should have known better.

I was informed it was all my fault and that, to keep this from happening, I had to learn to cover up. Otherwise, the whole wide world would know I wanted to be seen. What kind of indecent girl was I that I wanted all eyes on me?

All of this knowledge was relied on me by a woman. To be more specific, the first woman in my life. I know, I know. My mother was just trying to protect me.

Don't pretend we didn't warn you.

Then came many more women, all of them with a piece of my education in the delicate art of being decent. From the Sunday school teacher who told me my reputation would never recover if people knew my boyfriend and I used to kiss, to the classmate who called me an attention-seeker-whore because my skirt was too short to her taste.

See? Maybe I have always been a whore, and I have just been trying to delay the inevitable.

Then there was my sister, who told me it was dirty that I used to touch my own breasts. And the coworker, who thinks the pictures I take of myself are indecent. And all of the women I have heard say to other young girls, "Aren't you going to cover yourself up?"

The message is all the same: do your best not to look like a whore. It won't be good for you. You won't be safe. Don't pretend we didn't warn you.

The Saddest Part

Of course, I have also been called a whore by a few men. However, somehow, when it comes from a woman, it stings more.

It is as if the whole idea of a sisterhood suddenly fades away the second your decency comes under scrutiny.

Suddenly, you are less than…, and some women feel the need to really let you know and, if possible, cause you harm.

Now, these women didn't magically appear. They were created by other women. Generation after generation, we have passed judgment onto each other.

This is the saddest part: most of them don't even know why they say those words. They are merely repeating what they heard before, a toxic conditioning that was drilled into the depths of their minds.

Even worse, in a way, this comes from a dose of love. Some mothers try to murder their daughters' passion because they fear what the world will do to them. They have seen it — they have felt it.

However, passion will never be the problem. In fact, it is the antidote.

The Illusion of Indecency

So, yes, I am a bit angry at those women. So many times, I kept myself from doing what I wanted because I feared what it would look like. It was important I did not cause controversy or called attention to myself in any way, shape, or form. After all, even just the illusion of indecency could cause the world to realize just how big of a whore I really was.

But then I noticed how, in being sinless, I was also invisible.

Decent women tend to make no noise and take up no space. They are rewarded by being called nice, even if their soul dies a little bit every time they keep their passion under wraps.

I don't know what happened. Was it because I got tired? Because every day, more and more, I saw no difference between being alive or vanishing away from existence?

Somehow, I noticed this whole decency thing was nothing but a means of control to keep us quiet and smiling.

The Right To Become a Whore

So now, I find myself with two tasks at hand. The first one, the most urgent one, is to become the biggest whore I possibly can be. I am to be indecent, nasty, vulgar, and as lascivious as it is humanly possible.

I am to make a lot of noise and to claim my space.

And, as hard as it is because I am honestly still too angry, I am to find compassion for the women who came before. After all, they were trying to keep me safe, and they didn't know better.

They were prisoners of the prejudices that were shoved down their throats.

And now, the only way to truly honor them is to make sure all women know that, if they choose to, it is their right to become a whore.