Legitimate.
I really fucking hate that word sometimes. As a young person, as a woman, as the daughter of a teenaged-mother, and as a supporter of equality, I’m tired of having people judge whether my life, my choices, and my words are good and true enough to be recognized.
It’s hard for our generation to find a job when we’re told that our volunteering, our online and computer skills, our community and campus organizing aren’t “legitimate experience.”
It’s hard for women to walk down the street without being harassed and hard for survivors of sexual assault and rape to come forward when told that their words and experiences don’t constitute “legitimate rape” or a “legitimate complaint.” Surely, they were asking for the unwanted attention, the assault.
It’s hard to listen to conservative rants about “family values” and the havoc that single mothersand marriage equality would bring to the American family unit. My parents were 17 and not yet married when I was born; I was – as they say – an “illegitimate child.” Fuck that; my parents have been married for 24 years and my family is incredibly close. And my LGBTQ friends aren’t leading legitimate lives? Bullshit. They’re people and they love who they love so get the hell over it.
You want to? Go right ahead. But we’re sick and tired of it. When you’re done spewing your hate, we’re going to have emotional reactions. And you want to know what’s great about having an emotional reaction to something that touches you deeply because you’re a decent human being? It’s fucking legitimate.
This post brought to you by Dawn, who does think she can blog.