The female proposition is a strange one. Unlike the male one, his, which is still as sturdily linked to ownership, possession and authority as propositions were meant to mean, her appears to always come along as loaded with insinuations and implications as a gangster’s revolver. Her is loaded with fragile sense of worthiness- like her needs to work for it while his simply just has it. Her is a word inseparable from constant sexualization: her legs, her voice, her lips, her arms, her hands, her fingers, even her eyelashes. Her has to fight for you to see it for its true strength and resilience, but when paired with attitude, is instead associated with the words bitch, bossy, annoying.
While we’re learning, slowly- painfully so- to tear these toxic associations apart and value the meaning of the girl-boss, another pairing of words seems to be way behind the finish line on its way to getting resolved: her, and fault.
So popular is this association that it even garnered itself a name drenched in popular culture references: The Yoko Effect.
Of course, Lennon’s straying away from boyband craze to peace and protests in bed and “Imagine" was Yoko Ono’s fault. Everyone knows it. Everyone believes it. “Yoko ruined the greatest band on earth” must be the most agreed on argument, right after the one that says flat-earthers are crazy. I bet Hawaiian pizza would kill to get this much support behind its mismatched taste (still delicious though- don’t @ me).
But was it really Yoko’s fault?
If you’ve walked this earth longer than 3 seconds you would know that changing a man’s mind is as impossible as teaching a fish to do underwater ballet. So why is it that when Lennon did change, it was Yoko who bore the title of ‘destroyer of the greatest band alive’?
If you’re too young to know, or care, about the beatles, turn your attention to this year’s very own Yoko: Ariana Grande.
When rapper Mac Miller, whose unfortunate mental illness and reliance on substances for relief from them, was harmful to the point of death, it was the the late rapper’s ex girlfriend who was automatically assigned the blame for it, like a scarlet A emblazoned on her chest.
Why does she suddenly bear the weight of another person’s life on her shoulders, despite it being his very own actions that led to the untimely occurrence?
If you feel triggered by this, ask yourself: why?
You’ve probably experienced this at least once in your life. Whether that’s by going through it yourself, or by witnessing your mother, sister, girlfriend, aunt or female teacher silently bear the blame for someone else’s problems.
This isn’t a modern day dilemma either. I don’t recall learning about Eve tying Adam’s hands and forcing the forbidden fruit down his throat in any of the religion classes I sat through in school. And yet, Eve is the one to blame for all of our downfall from heaven to this cursed earth.
If ‘man’, ‘he’, or ‘his’ are so powerful, then why did all these men not use their voices change their destinies?