Dear men,

I’m sorry. I am angry and mean. I feel that the appropriate adjective for my behavior, considering my gender, would be bitchy. This sexism stuff gets me so worked up and then I just lash out at random, innocent men, who have never ever done anything wrong.

My wrath is inexcusable, and I apologize.

My rage is almost always unnecessary. People, in general, are lovely. They are kind and respectful. They constantly think about others before they act, and when they realize they’ve done something wrong they apologize instantly and make a massive effort to never do it again. I should always be polite and calm when I address injustice because injustice is having a bad day and didn’t mean any offence at all. People who engage in offensive language and actions will most definitely respond to a “please stop” and will never retort with condescending, patronizing, elitist defenses of their behavior. I’ve never seen a human being behave like that. Perhaps oppressed groups made them up so that they could complain more about how mistreated they are. Yeah, that must be it.

The Yale frat boys that marched through their campus in early October yelling, “No means yes, yes means anal!” did not mean to offend anyone. They were just having a little fun, and everyone is entitled to that. The editorial that ran in the Yale school paper talking about how the Yale women’s center overreacted by suggesting that the brothers were promoting “an active call for sexual violence” made a great point. Women are prone to overreaction, and we definitely lack a sense of humor. Rape is funny these days. People are always making jokes about it. Us women folk just need to lighten up, I assume. The next time I’m walking across campus late at night by myself and I’m feeling a little bit jumpy – because rape and sexual assault is a very real thing on this campus – I’ll just remember to have a little chuckle. Having a man violently attack me and force himself upon me in a display of dominance and power has never been more hilarious. Maybe if us women all laughed a little bit more and stopped being such wet blankets, we’d get raped less.

Actually, there’s a lot us women could be doing to stop rape. I understand that men lack decency and self-control, and that’s got to be really tough. All those short skirts and low cut tops prancing around campus clearly just scream “Rape me,” right?

There’s also the inebriation. I know with every drink I consume on a Saturday night I’m thinking “Gosh, I hope I get drunk enough so that some guy thinks it’s okay to have sex with me even if I say no. Or even better, when I’m passed out.” It’s true; I plan my weekends around it.  I also realize that if I flirt with you all night and even bring you back to my room but then say no, you’re entitled to rape me. I’ve led you on! It’s only fair.

I can see the cogs in your brain turning, the protest forming. “But Tori, I would never rape anyone. I’m a nice guy.” Well, Nice Guy, it’s true, you’re special. Friend to women everywhere, you are always jumping to our defense. You might as well put on a suit of armor and I’ll swoon into your arms for being so brave. Not raping is hard work. Instead of men ending rape forever by not raping, apparently it is the job of women to wear longer skirts and be more sober and take self-defense classes. I think maybe we should start a Nice Guy Award where you get a medal for every day you don’t rape someone. We need to reward such wonderful diligence.

But you should also know that my opinion isn’t valid, because I hate men. Men are to blame for all my problems, relevant to sexism or not. I never have to deal with the consequences of my actions because I can always just blame a man! I hate men so much I can’t stand to be around them, so I’m a lesbian. Of course, you should be aware that, like all lesbians, I have secret cravings for men and really just want to have sex with you. But I should also warn you I’m disgustingly ugly. Then there’s the slow realization that my true place in life is in the kitchen. This is when you should ask me to make you a sandwich, because that would be hilarious. You could post “Make me a sandwich, woman” as your Facebook status and all your friends could ‘Like’ it. That way we could all have a good laugh, because no one has ever heard that joke before, and women doing household chores for men is one of the funnier images of our generation. With a creative wit like yours it’s no wonder you have so many friends.

Now I still have all this misplaced rage to deal with. I was having a fantasy the other day about putting on a vigilante costume and going around campus late at night and cutting off the testicles of every man on campus that has ever been accused of sexual assault. The shock, the violence – gosh, I’ve just taken it too far.  Maybe it shouldn’t just be the assaulters. Maybe it should be every man who ever made a rape joke. Maybe it should be every man who ever called a girl a ‘bitch.’ Maybe it should be every man who whines and complains that I am overreacting when I take rape seriously, and that they themselves are not like that, and how dare I be so unfair. Let me tell you how much I care that it is not your fault you were born with a dick. A lot. Your pain at being a man keeps me up at night. And now this added fear of having your balls cut off? I’m just being mean. No one should have to deal with such threats about sexual violence.

No matter how much I apologize, I know some of you will still be a little bit irate about my radical notions. For you folks who are just stewing in your irritation and self-pity right now, and are all ready to explain to me how much I don’t understand, I’ve got some advice: Do what oppressed people have been forced to do forever: Step back, sit down, and shut up.

Victoria Knobloch is a Collegian columnist. She can be reached at [email protected].