Old habits

Eliza J.C.

Men and women share ways to enjoy others’ company, at least within their own genders—chess, basketball on the school courts, long conversations in a friend’s basement. There is, I’ve noticed, an equality of power in these options. Chess requires a back-and-forth, with the opponents watching each other’s movements in order to calculate their own; basketball, similarly, calls for both players to be in sync in order to have a balanced game; and a conversation is like a ball between two brick walls, the best ones only disturbed by jarring force. This balance, however, is not upheld by even us women, though we may believe it is. The separation of power between boy and girl is like a steel divide, built by us, and is seemingly indestructible. 

No girl wants to be thought less of than her male classmates. Even so, we ourselves solicit it, and this action is subconscious–by simply turning her head down in order for a boy to speak first in a discussion, a girl is perpetuating a rule that’s been unspoken for years but in place for centuries. In the 1700s, women disguised themselves as men in order to go to war. Even now, in 2024, I find myself reaching for more masculine clothing for gym class, wearing my brother’s sweatpants while out on the field, without realizing my intention. My intention, I am able to recognize now, is to be seen as less of a woman and more of a human. As a teenager, no one my age feels truly human yet–but it is hard to grow into your own skin when boys throw dismissive comments at you without restraint every school day. And it’s even harder when we let them.

“Don’t look at me like that, Eliza. Why are you looking at me like that?” From across the classroom, I hear him say this. I didn’t look at him, so his reaching further and adding “like that” is idiotic. However, I don’t say anything back. I keep my eyes fixed on the table, letting him end the interaction, leaving him with the upper hand. He does this almost daily to countless girls–a few, annoyingly, giggle as if he asked them to homecoming. Most ignore him, some roll their eyes, and maybe one or two tell him to cut it out. I’m sorry to say I have never been one of those girls who say something in response to his behavior. This is a boy who is constantly complained about, makes frequent visits to the middle school head, and barely cracks 4’10–yet I say nothing. What makes this boy such a dominant figure is not his confidence or his reputation, but this cruel societal mess. Out of habit, boys have reigned over girls in classrooms, taking over group projects and still, when they don’t want to participate at all, somehow ending up in the king’s spot. 

Chess, as I’ve said, is calculated. Each move has its weight, the opponent teasing it in their hands, striking the match that could be blown out or fueled by the other person. This balance must be maintained by both competitors. It is the only way to play.

How can we expect to change our future when we have fallen into the patterns of history? The power leans male, the way it’s always been done; change is inherently welcomed, encouraged, yet our behavior halts this progression. Without realizing it, my female classmates and I have participated in the game of male prejudice; feminists like myself have failed our own principles; and these boys keep carrying on as they were. 

  Especially with young girls and boys, the hope of making large-scale changes is near futile if we cannot address the small, subconscious discriminations in daily life, committed by everyone, creating the steel divide that may not be as indestructible as we think.