You Might As Well Be the “Fucking Bitch”
He killed her. And after he did, he called her a “fucking bitch.” Not during a struggle. Not in fear. After. That word didn’t slip out accidentally. It arrived fully formed. Comfortable. Familiar. Practiced. Every woman I know recognized the tone instantly. Not as politics. As memory. Because we’ve heard it before. In kitchens. In cars. In breakups that turned into threats. In workplaces. In bedrooms. In courtrooms. It’s the voice men use when they decide your humanity is optional. And here’s the part that keeps circling in my head: It wouldn’t have mattered what she did. It wouldn’t have mattered if she was polite. Or calm. Or compliant. Or quiet. Or grateful. Or perfect. Because the word doesn’t describe behavior. It describes disobedience. Every woman learns this early: You can be kind and still be called a bitch. You can be careful and still be called a bitch. You can be small and still be called a bitch. You can be bleeding and ...