Thanks for Interrupting Me in Class!

Oh, hey Matthew!*

Funny seeing you here, in this class that we take together. How are you? Oh, ha ha, that’s a funny story! You’re right, women really are crazy, huh?

Hey, since I’ve got you here, I just wanted to say something:

Remember when last week I was talking about the manifestation of Faulkner’s misogyny in Light in August? About how his portrayal of women in general brings to the forefront some antiquated ideas about female impurity and filth? Yeah, well, I don’t remember my saying that, either, because you interrupted me while I was mid-sentence.

Oh, no, go ahead, you finish what you were saying. I’m sure your myriad personal experiences with sexism could really inform some interesting dialogue. You know, incorporating diverse perspectives is important, right? You really brought that to the forefront when you asked a Black classmate to speak on behalf of all Black people last week. That was just so generous of you.

Anyhow, I just have one request. Ahem.

Don’t you ever interrupt me again.

Oh, you look surprised. Was that too straightforward, too aggressive for a woman to say to a man? Should I have been more coy about it? Let me try that again. Matthew, darling, you know how much I value your Straight White Male Opinion – especially on issues of race and gender. But if you ever so much as open your mouth while I’m speaking in class again, I will personally walk you to India Point Park, where we will have a delicious picnic lunch of quail eggs and tuna salad before I slowly lower you into the bay and leave you there to figure it out for yourself. You are just so clever, after all.

Still not getting it? Let me clarify further. The next time I’m speaking about my experiences as a woman in science, and you clarify that, “Your department isn’t so bad, though, right? There are plenty of women concentrating in your field,” when in fact the ratio of men to women is 2:1, I am going to lock you in a box with a possum and see how you fare.

In fact, you can take your 1950’s-era ideas about other people and shove them right up your hairless –

Oh, there you go again, talking over me! Old dogs really cannot learn new tricks, as they say. Well then Matthew, this conversation is over. You are the human manifestation of a hair-ball. My cat coughed you up 19 years ago and you haven’t stopped talking since. When I look at you, all I see is Brad Pitt’s beard circa 2011. I know that you loved Fight Club, but I meant that as an insult. You are lower than a toe nail in a Perkins bathroom.

Sorry, were you trying to say something? I wasn’t listening.

Bye-bye, now!

Sarah

 

*This is the point in the text when I would normally say “names have been changed to protect individuals’ privacy,” but I’m not going to say that here. Frankly, if Matthew existed, I would put his full name on blast in this post. Instead, Matthew is an amalgamation of the types of dudes I’ve encountered over my seven semesters here at Brown. Enjoy.

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