Today’s post is a doozy. There will also be no pictures. Just warning everyone.
I love the SCA. I think, if you read this blog at all, that is pretty obvious. It is a fantastic outlet for my textile and obsessive perfectionist habits.
The fact remains, however, that I am a 25-year-old, conventionally attractive, thin (too thin, tbh), asexual woman. And the SCA is full of (mostly older) men who like to hit on me.
The fact that I have even NOTICED that people are hitting on me speaks to how bad it is– I’m usually pretty oblivious. Ask William, he has a bunch of stories about people flirting with me where I completely shut them down just because I didn’t realize that was what they were doing.
None of it has gotten to the point where it is creepy, or where it would probably bother most people, but in this regard I’m not most people. I hate this. A lot. And I hate the fact that, to some extent, knowing this is a thing changes how I act in the society. I bought a cute pin-up-y Hawaiian dress to wear to the Luau party at 12th Night…. and I showed up in my typical boots, jeans, and three layers of oversized jackets. A friend of mine wants to make really short trunkhose in queer-flag color schemes and I had to tell him “no, I don’t want to encourage people by doing that.”
I know that to some extent this is just the culture of the SCA. I do appreciate some related aspects– the fact that divorce is seen as an option if things are just not working instead of a weapon of last-resort, and I think the more flexible approach to relationships is healthy in a lot of ways, just not for me. But guys.
There are not many young, thin, women with long hair around. I can think of 3 besides me in our kingdom. That DOES NOT MEAN that you should treat us any differently. There should not be garb that I do not wear or people that I avoid because I don’t want to deal with this issue. The fact that I cannot hide in plain sight in the society the way I do in the real world should not make this much of a difference. Please. Respect us as people. Admire me for my sewing skills, for my curiosity, for how I melt into a human pile of goo when I see a corgi. Don’t hit on me. If I start to look uncomfortable, stop. I deserve to be here doing what I love JUST AS MUCH as you do, and not less because you happen to think I’m cute.