August 20, 2014 - Written by: Beth Teverson

Girls With Guns

So I watched Thelma and Louise for the first time the other day. I already knew it was a big hit, having won a huge critical acclaim. I even remembered it being referenced in the past was a parody episode of The Simpsons when Marge goes on a similar journey with next-door neighbour Ruth.

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And of course the film isn’t just about two southern gals causing a riot on their way to Texas. We witness a radical change in both Thelma and Louise (and I’m not just talking about their increasingly tousled hair) as they both gain the power over their lives that they’d never felt before.

The power, however, didn’t just come from their sassy come backs, but from Thelma’s gun.

What caught my attention was how the influence of this one weapon changed the entire attitude of these characters. And I could totally believe it – was this the only way some men would take a woman seriously? When she pointed a revolver at his crotch?

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Now I’m not for one minute endorsing the use of weaponry as a way of enforcing one’s power – but how many times have I felt vulnerable and unsafe because a man has looked at me in a certain way or said something?

How often have I felt at the mercy of men because of my physical disadvantage?

I know that if I squared up to them, if I threatened them, they’d laugh.

If I said anything in fact, they’d twist my words. I remember the first time I was sexually harassed. I was a slightly busty twelve year old, sat in a pub restaurant on a Scottish island with my mum and my sister. Some teenage boys made lewd remarks and gestures to me throughout my entire meal. I remember looking down and seeing some cleavage. I thought ‘I deserve this’. I felt so sick and afraid the entire walk home. I mean Jesus Christ my age was barely into double figures! The next day we went cycling around the island and I was so scared of seeing them again and what they’d say that I wore a jumper throughout the sweltering heat of the day.

“You better start getting used to it.” My sister said. “You might even find it a compliment one day.”

But although I have learnt to talk back (or gesture back as and when it’s appropriate) sometimes that sickly feeling returns. If only there was a way to shut them up; to make them sorry and to fear doing it again. And in that respect I see the appeal of Thelma and Louise: It’s a revenge story.

But sadly, unlike Louise, I’m not about to pick up a gun anytime soon. There will be no would-be rapists shot in the balls nor exploding oil tankers in my life. I mean I wouldn’t even know where to find a gun let alone know how to point and shoot.

No, instead I’m left to wonder in my pacifism; what makes us feel so vulnerable in the first place and how do we prevent it without wearing excessive amounts of clothing?

And I know it’s that sense of power and control smothered by a sense of fear.

I have found that often the only way to deal with it is to reverse the humiliation and to make the situation slightly more jovial. So for example if I get beeped whilst walking I sometimes go cross eyed, over exaggerate my smile and wave frantically as if to an old friend. I find, in my mind, it removes the whole ‘sexual hierachy’ of the situation. I often find that is the cause of the feeling of lacking power because in reality, this guy could take a lot more from me than I could from him.

Maybe when I’m an saggy old granny I’ll miss those beeps, those ‘compliments’ but for now I’ll keep searching for my own “gun” whether it’s laughing in their face or ignoring them.

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