Out for a walk… bitch

Anyone here a Buffy fan? If so, you’ll be able to picture the exact scene this quote is from, the tree, the peroxide, the fingers..

If not, you might need a little YouTube time. You’ll be wanting season 5, episode 5. But let me give you the context for the quote, as you can’t get that in a 40 second clip. The words are spoken by the on/off protagonist/antagonist of Buffy, Spike. He’s a bad old vampire, who falls in love with our heroine, but unlike Buffy’s former vamp flame, Angel, he does not have a soul. Eww, bad rude man (that’s also a quote, I’m quite the nerd.)

His affections are quite unwanted by Buffy, and he’s taken to moping around her house, and trying to manufacture reasons to see her throughout this series. One evening, Buffy finds him lurking behind the large tree outside her house, exasperated she asks him what he’s doing. As he inhales to no doubt give a long and unconvincing explanation of why he’s lurking, Buffy cuts him off;

“Five words or less…”

He counts out the words on one hand,

“Out. For. A. Walk”

And realising he has one word left, defiantly raises his little finger, and adds,

“Bitch”

It’s a funny line, delivered with all the churlish attempt at an insult you’d expect from a lovesick teenager trying to hide their feelings. It’s funny that a big, bad vampire goes for a walk, it’s funny he’s stuck exactly to her rules, and it’s funny that he doesn’t waste the final word in the allowance, and that he uses it angrily. It makes me laugh so much, I have a t-shirt with it on, and I wear it for walking. It must confuse some passersby, who probably think “I didn’t ask you… bitch.”

So why am I talking about Buffy (besides the fact, while problematic, it is a fantastic series and well worth a watch)? Because of two reasons 1) Season 3, Episode 23 – Helpless (a shocking look at female fear of the night) and 2) use of the word bitch. I want to reclaim both, for women, for t-shirts and for the good of humanity.

Let’s start with the word bitch. There is a series on Netflix called “History of Swear Words” inexplicably presented by Nicolas Cage. I do not know why he’s there, maybe he has a divorce to pay for, or someone thought he’d be able to retain composure when stringing several “fucks” and “cunts” together in an academic matter? Who knows? But there he is. Each episode tackles a different bad, rude word, and bitch is one of the stand-out episodes. What stood out for me, is in this post #metoo, feminist world that I and the program makers occupy, bitch is a slur beyond a slur. It’s sexist language on top of profanity, and there are many seeking to reclaim it. Some uses of the word are positive, being called a bad-bitch is something of a compliment (I’d always taken it that way anyway). Look no further than Lizzo’s Truth Hurts for a DNA test confirming you are 100% that bitch, and proud.

I got to thinking on when I’ve been called a bitch. Sadly I can tick the personal and professional boxes on this one. Let’s unpack those boxes.

Professionally – I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m kind of a big deal. (I’m quoting Anchorman, before you start thinking “over-confident much??”) Well, I am. So I have had my fair share of comments about my leadership style, ambitious nature and my somewhat naturally occurring self-assurance. I’ve been called a bitch each time I’ve acted in a way women aren’t supposed to. I’ve been confident and assertive – bitch. I’ve had to discipline colleagues in my structure, and outside of it in extreme cases – bitch. I’ve called out “gentlemen” arguing and dick-swinging in meetings to the detriment of the work – bitch. I’ve publicly complained about sexist comments made to me – bitch. I’ve ascended in a male dominated industry – bitch.

Funny how I’m a bitch when I don’t perform to the stereotypical ideals of what women should be. Funny how other women call me a bitch if they think I’ve somehow broken the ho-code (tongue so far in cheek I nearly bit it off there, gals). Trust me, if I took your seat at a table sister, I am there trying to get you one too.

To return to dear Spike, with his chance for one more word, and his desire to try and retain some control in a very lopsided power struggle. His pause is so full of thought, and he lands on bitch. Specifically female, specifically accusatory of her, and specifically aimed at her ongoing rejection of his advances. She’s a bitch for not doing what he wants. She’s a bitch for not putting his desires above her own.

Little does he know that Buffy is 100% that bitch.

Except when she isn’t.

For one night, Buffy loses the supernatural strength and reflexes gifted to her as the Slayer (don’t get me started on the fact it was power imposed on a vulnerable young woman by a collective of men, who wanted to use her as a weapon to protect themselves – the show already does a pretty good job at getting outraged at this anyway).

She loses it because the Watcher’s Council have a test for Slayers, a rite of passage she must pass, by fighting a legendary vampire, without her powers. Seems quite unfair doesn’t it? Feels a bit like the council kill off the girls deliberately before they get too educated doesn’t it?

So there I am, almost three series in, loving that Buffy always prevails, despite being a delicate ballet lady (thanks Jayde Adams for that one) and is a fierce, brave woman who doesn’t have the fears I have. Throw in that I watched this as a teenager originally, desperate for something in mass media that reassured me and empowered me.

Then as she is walking home that evening, powerless and power-less, she is cat-called by three men. Humans. Not Vampires. Not Demons. Humans. And she is afraid. It was like being confronted by my own vulnerability. It was a crashing sense of reality and frailty that I was not ready for, in the slightest and that hurt just as much, if not more, re-watching this in my thirties as it did in my teens. Not long after this, we saw the disappearance and what we later found out to be the murder, of a young woman in London, who was just walking home. It really brings home the idea that horror and violence can so easily be our experience on a seemingly innocent night. It’s thrown into contrast so well, that this is one night in our Slayer’s life, one night where you see her genuinely frightened of something as unremarkable as another human being, compared to the ghost, demons and vampires she faces on a weekly basis. When for us women, it is every night.

The ending of this series was beautiful. Look away now if you haven’t seen it and don’t want a spoiler.

Having realised her power comes from her friends and the support around her, faced with an unbeatable foe and the end of the world, and with the first Watcher’s words echoing in her ears, that she will always be alone, Buffy chooses to share her power with all women.

There is a montage of girls, receiving a share of this power, blocking a blow aimed at their face, straightening up to hit a pitch in a game of baseball, that gives me goosebumps even now. The democratization of this power, across womanhood, makes me feel safe, and protected, supported and empowered. We might still face night-terrors but women look out for each other. Women pretend they know you when you hastily sit down with them to avoid a creep, they watch your drink, even when you don’t realise it.

So that is how we reclaim the night and reclaim the word bitch, together. Yes we shouldn’t have to, but we have to. So I’ll walk with you, and if I call you a bitch, I 100% love and admire you.

Now get out for a walk, bitch.