mo li hua.

A must read for ladies everywhere.

I am not going to lie, I am a huge fan of the c-word, and of the b-word, and of the s-word (slut... YEAH I SAID IT), and all their derivatives and synonyms and equally deplorable counterparts. That being said, NO ONE is allowed to refer to me by any of those names without my permission. In college, it was all too easy to give way to the habit of greeting our friends with a "hey slut" or "what's up, bitch?" and to anyone whom I may have offended in speaking that way, I am truly, honestly, deeply sorry. But [brace yourself for a seriously unpopular opinion here] I'm not afraid of these words, in fact I find it empowering to embrace them.

Call me a bitch, and I'll show you one.

If you think I'm a slut, well... that's your business. I'm not ashamed of what I do in bed.

As far as c--t, I just think it's funny. Plain funny. If a man calls me a c--t, I'll say it right back to him. In our society this kind of degradation is so rampant that it's almost become meaningless, but what does it say if a woman calls a man a c--t? I'm not sure, but I know that men don't like it. Besides, what is a c--t anyway? I know it's supposed to refer to female genitalia, but what does it mean to personify it? Don't know, don't care. It doesn't hurt me, and I'll call you one right back just to watch you squirm.

I personally believe that we need to stop weaponizing words, and the first step in accomplishing that is to stop being afraid to use them. There is a whole arsenal of adjectives that are so taboo that only the rudest of people would think to use them and that's where they get their power -- exclusivity. I'm not advocating for b---- and s--- and c--- to be thrown around in casual conversation, not at all.

A man thinks it's degrading to call you a bitch. Okay, so he calls you a bitch. If he thinks it's degrading for a WOMAN to be a bitch, imagine how he would feel if you called him (a MAN) a bitch. I promise it'll hurt him more than it hurts you.

Words only hurt if you allow them to. So go ahead, call me a c--t. I get a real kick out of it because I am SECURE in WHO I AM to know that your thoughts don't affect my good nature. I am who I am regardless of what you think of me or what you call me. So suck it.

Secondly, bravo on the closing quote in that link. I have a little name, clocking in at three whopping letters, but not a day goes by that I'm not called the wrong name or having to correct someone. I often get asked, "does it matter?" Yes, it fucking matters.

It's laziness at its worst to assume that you, a stranger, can rename me because my name is inconvenient to remember and unusual to pronounce. It's rude to my parents who gave a lot of thought on what to name me, it strips away the sentimentality and the meaning (it's a family name, and a nod to my grandparents' religious convictions and their importance in my life); I am not a rose, I would not be the same by any other name. It's rude to me to sweep aside a lifetime of being me because you can't be bothered to repeat after me: Ah-nah. Not Anna.

It has taken decades (I can say that plural, even at 26 I can say it's been a decades-long struggle) to embrace that my name makes me and that I make the name. True fact: I went by a nickname for the first half of my life, so I can honestly say that there IS a difference when it comes to the name/personality relationship. So if I am meeting you for the first time, be a dear and say it as I say it. Let me be the person I am meant to be, the person I introduce myself as, not as the person you decide you want me to be.

You don't know what I've gone through to earn and to love and to accept every letter, every syllable of my name. Respect it.