The Comparison Game — E A CARTER

It's hell sometimes, isn't it?

You wake up feeling good, happy. Content. You feel gratitude and express it.

Thank you birds for singing; thank you for this beautiful, comfortable bed; thank you for my health; for my family and friends; for the amazing wine I had last night.

You roll over, feeling pretty good and fire up your phone to check your social media. And then it happens: between the cute cats posts and the motivational quotes, that ONE image that nails you to the wall, that starts the spiral, that f-ing fall into the abyss of nevergonnabegoodenoughshitshitshit.

You know the dance by heart, I bet. It always begins with: "I will just take a quick look, like a few posts, leave a few comments and get on with my day."

And it never changes, this lie we tell ourselves, does it?

Because there's always that one post that wrecks our happiness and starts a war inside ourselves that leaves us in tatters, shredded, and struggling to find our compass for the rest of the day.

I know you get this. I can't speak for men, but for women I have a lot to say. Because it's hard to be a woman in a social media saturated world where there are thousands—no, f-ing millions—of women who have what we don't. Bigger breasts. Smaller breasts. Bigger bum. Smaller bum. Rounder butt cheeks. More muscular legs. Fatter legs. Smaller waists. Bigger waists. Eyes of green, or blue, or goddamn purple ffs. Cheekbones chiseled by Michelangelo (or volumizing injections, same thing). Blonde hair, dreads, red hair, black hair, hair down to their butt, freaking shaved head with an extra cool tattoo on their scalp. Those "I just woke up" posts that make your want to throw your phone out the window straight into your neighbour's Beamer with a satisfying smack.

I know you know the feeling. I definitely do. And I hate, hate, hate it. I hate being caught in a world where every woman is forced into a gladiatorial battle with every other woman in social media's existence to stake her place—to somehow, some way stand out and matter. Like it's a competition? For what? The biggest womanizing jerk on the block? Come on.

And really, it all comes down to is the most basic stuff. Butts and boobs. Because for the women who have EXACTLY the right proportions du jour, the social media world is their oyster. Men slaver all over them ejaculating emojis like there is no tomorrow. Some of the more literate ones might actually construct a sentence amongst the emojis, (not that's she's reading boys, she's just there to roll in glee all over her emoji cumfest).

Am I bitter as I write this? No, but I might be a tiny bit inebriated (but in a classy, writerly way where one can still spell inebriated) which gives me the moxie to say the things that all women think but never openly say.

I'm tired of being 'cool' about this fucked up patriarchal shit that we have to endure day in and out. It's bull. Every single woman is unique and beautiful in her own way and this crap of having to fit into a rubber-doll-one-size-fits-all version to please the god damned male gaze is prehistoric at best, and abusive at worst.

So here's what I have to say about all this: If you're a woman and looking at social media and it ever makes you feel shit...

Remember these three things:

1. You are a goddess. You can bring life from nothing. You are everything! You are gorgeous, interesting, intelligent, gifted, a healer, a lover, a giver, a work of art. No one else can be you. You are unique, perfect, and a gift.

2. Men do not define us. (Also screw their male gaze which demotes women to the lowest common denominator which makes them worth nothing more than the amount of flesh per square inch, I mean, what are we…race horses?)

3. The women on social media getting a kabillion likes are just as insecure as we are. It's true. Because the male gaze is a zero sum game. No one ever wins. Every single woman in this mess feels exactly the same as us, even the ones we think 'have it all'. Every woman is insecure. Why? Because the rubber doll rules are constantly changing in subtle ways which means unless you are an alien that can morph indefinitely you're going to always feel like an outlier. So the (male) house always wins. And we continue to play... why?

So the next time you look at social media and see a post that slays you, remember she's enslaved to the beat of the male gaze drum, desperate to be the one that men want, when really all a woman wants—what we all want...is love.

And the real question is. Are these boob and butt obsessed men even capable of love?

What are we doing? Really? We are a sisterhood. We need to unite. To stand together against the oppression of our beauty and uniqueness.

As for me: I am with my sisters. Men will always come second in my world. Always.

Because there will always be another rubber doll and he will run after it like the animal he is.

But my sisters. They stay, they stand strong through thick and thin. And that's what matters.

Us. Not them.

Us.