Y Chromosome

Okay, so the past three days have found me more offended than I have been in quite a long time. Perhaps offended is the wrong word. I don't normally get offended. I think being offended is a stupid choice.I just get passionate. And by passionate I mean I get mad- some of the time. This was one of those times. What caused said passion and anger? Well, I attend BYU-Idaho. Indeed, it is a wonderful place. Some jokingly refer to it as "The Lord's University." Well I have a thing or two to say to those people. The Lord loves his daughters, and does not appreciate when proud, chauvinistic men demean and degrade them, thank you very much. In the past two days I have taken more hits on my current state as a woman than I remember in quite a while. Last time I checked there was nothing wrong with not possessing said blessed Y chromosome, and to all those of you out there who consider me defective, or dare I say it, inferior, I say in the most lady like way possible: eat it sucka. The other day in my English class we watched a youtube video entitled, "Women, know your limits." Look it up. I dare you. It taught a supposedly valuable lesson. Women apparently should never express their thoughts out loud. Instead, we are expected to keep quiet about such things as politics, the environment, sports, the economy and other such intellectual conversations. How cute that a woman has an opinion, but how foolish of her to share it. Well here I am. I am sharing my opinion: You are an arrogant, male chauvinistic pig. I'd like to have a battle of wits with you any day. I understand that this was a joke. I am sensible enough to know that this was intended to make people, mostly male, laugh. (Yes, I know I am a woman, but women have their moments of sensibility too. Shocker, I know.) However, my professor continued to tell all of the women to "know their place." Whether it be in getting dessert, or expressing their opinions, he never once refrained from reminding me what my supposed place was. I was fully under the impression that my so-called place was at the side of a man. Neither in front or behind him, thank you. Yet I am perfectly capable of standing all by myself. It's pretty awesome. I don't need a man to tell me where my place is. Oddly enough I am more than capable of figuring it out for myself. Thank you. It's situations like these and countless others that occur in rapid succession all over campus that absolutely infuriate me. I am woman. Hear my passion. And guess what? I wrote all of that by myself; without the help of a man. I suppose your wretched little Y chromosomes are overrated after all. Thank you, and goodnight.