I find myself to be a walking stereotype. Generation MTV at its finest: cell phone permanently attached to my face, designer bag on my arm with i-pod cord snaking out of it. I drive an SUV; I get waxes. I look like I rolled out of bed all day, and get dressed at night. And as it so happens, I'm five-foot-ten. You would think that for $150 you would receive more fabric, but today's denim trends are not for those with long torsos. And much to the displeasure of my mother, and as I've now learned, the older women generation, sometimes I exhibit a 'lil of what I like to call "reverse cleavage".
And so today, when I was sitting in a chair at Panera Bread, having a peaceful dinner with my best friends, a woman, who I'll kindly say was in her late 50s, felt that she should take it upon herself to inform me.
"Hey Monica," she says. (My name is Allison. This rude comment totally floats by me as I am an "airhead blonde.") "I can see your butt-crack and every man in here is staring."
"Okay," say I. I could completely tell she wanted me to fall all over myself, apologizing for this obscene display of the human body, and so, as the ass (wink) that I am, I made no move to rectify the situation. I probably would have eventually, discretely, but because of this lady's outburst I was not able to do so.
And so she goes back to her table when she sees that I'm making no move to change and starts muttering to herself, but loudly enough to disturb my meal and everyone else in the restaurant, "I can't believe you will just sit around like that, I have grandchildren. They wouldn't do this. That's dirty. Do you know how many people don't wash their hands and touch that chair?" And she goes on like this for probably five minutes while at our table we are trying our hardest to not validate her outburst with a response. All the while she's threatening to call the police for "indecent exposure." And this continues until she stands up to leave. She comes up to me and says, "You are probably one of those Democrats who can't wait to get Clinton back in the office so you can be an intern. Where do you all go to school? It must not be an ivy." She's so smug, and at this point I finally understand the "Monica" comment.
And I'm so pissed I can't help but respond. "I'm a republican, the only one at the table, in fact. Bush should stay in office. That being said, I find your comment not only rude but also offensive. Good day."
She comes back with some long winded story about how she's some Republican something or other, which none of us believe, seeing as she's acting schizophrenic, and thinks she ends this debacle with her uncouthly shouting, "You're a disgrace to Republicans."
I retort, with equal gusto, "You're a disgrace to women!"
It's here that I make my point: Many women of older generations, for all the talk about "empowerment" and "change" in most aspects can't stand to see that my generation can not only be successful but also beautiful and sexy. My mother's friend came up with a lovely term to describe our generation. "Strip-Tease Feminism." I wish I could take credit for it. It describes us to a T, or rather a G, as in string. And I know, there are those of you out there that are our mentors and our leaders and fight for us to get the best jobs and to receive promotions and want us to someday run the country. I'm glad you are out there, and I applaud what you are doing because someday you will have by back, just like my friends did today. And you won't validate us on the length of our skirts or the amount of money we spend on personal maintaince.
For the most part, I've had experiences with women in generations before mine that for some reason or other believe that all their bra burning was in vain. They, like Panera lady, see us as the decline of society.
It's completely untrue. And I want to stand up for my generation and say that we appreciate everything that's been done before us, and without the work of all feminists we wouldn't be where we are today.
Because of everything done before us, because of the marches and the protests, we can be top executives and respected members of congress. And we can do it all and still demand respect no matter what we look like and how much makeup we wear. I really am sorry that before you couldn't be a sex object and still be taken seriously, but times have changed. And if there is anything that I have learned from the women before me is that I need to demand respect, not grovel at those who treat me with complete and unmasked malice. This inane female jealously needs to stop right now. How can we find our mentors and idols if all they find are disappointment and faults?
Times will change. Pants will become high-wasted again. Have your fun belittling us in the hallways and elevators. (Residents of my building, you know who you are.) We, my generation, take your comments with a laugh and a smile; we're so empowered that we don't need your good graces. But eventually when one of us is running for president, we will need your support. I believe that as women we are too jealous to ever come together for our eventual success. Please prove me wrong.
Allison Purmort is a junior in Kogod School of Business.
