I was just talking with my sister on the phone, and we were comparing times we were scared shitless while traveling and escaped it. You know, the kind of scary thing you didn’t tell your family about at the time it happened, because they would be really worried about you? We discussed how men literally do not ever have these concerns. Most men never walk down the street with a constant inner monologue of “Will I be assaulted today? Is that old man going to tell me to smile more?” We had an epiphany: Resting Bitch Face is a Self-Defense Mechanism.
And we’ve both used it as one! My sister and I each had multiples accounts of times that a mad straight face and deaf ear might have saved our lives. I checked your previous content, and their are references of RBF sprinkled throughout many conversations about feminism and the general life of being a woman, but this perspective is unique. Of course there are opportunities to link related MR content Do You Have a Resting Bitch Face? and Feminism and RBF, but this perspective is not “what do you do about RBF” or “RBF is an issue with the way men perceive women” but about the fact that sometimes, when you are on the subway alone, you put on your biggest, baddest bitch face because you don’t want to talk, and you don’t want to hear it. Sometimes that angry frown while to stare blankly in the distance is the only way to get a little fucking security and peace and quiet while going about your day to day life. Bitch face is the ultimate Man Repeller.
This photo is of my sister on Eagle’s Crag in Acadia National Park. She and my brother are soaking up the summer on a parks roadtrip along the East Coast.
This road trip is my sister’s graduation gift to my brother. I am so jealous! I’ve never been to Maine, and her Snapchats of the ocean are incredible. Look at this amazing ice cream they had!
Or “enjoying nature while doing what you love.” My sister is at it again at Red River Gorge, in Kentucky. And, markedly, today is the end of my “beginner to badass” climbing program at Brooklyn Boulders, Chicago location. In a few months I hope to be able to climb with her outside (but first I need to master the 60 foot indoor wall)! Climb on, Kendra!
via Daily Prompt: Climbing
My sister is a climber. She laces her shoes purposefully, ties the knots carefully, and chooses her handholds deliberately. She knows how to stretch to reach the next hold, or how to propel herself slightly higher. She gives other people this opportunity, guiding and hoisting, belaying them into a new sense of confidence.
When my sister was little, she climbed trees. So did I, but she always climbed a little bit further, and jumped down when she was done. When I was done, I sort of shimmied down, scraping my arms and legs bloody against the rough tree bark. I have climbed enough trees, though, to know the satisfaction it draws. Each branch, every scrape, each slipped then recovered foot hold, brings a new sense of accomplishment. I did it. I am higher than I was a moment ago. I am taller than I was a moment ago. I can see farther than the people on the ground.
Curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I’ve decided I would like to know how it feels to be a good climber. To climb a hard route successfully, without cheating. To boulder without falling, only jumping deliberately. To scale a cliffside in the great outdoors! In an effort to commit, I am planning to tryout Brooklyn Boulder’s “Beginner to Badass” program, a 30 day package where I can practice and train and learn and grow in new ways.
This week, my little sister turns twenty. In a way, I have watched her go from tree to rock; from follower to leader, from novice to expert, from student to teacher. I have watched my sister go from beginner to badass.
Happy (early) birthday, Kendra!