Rose-Tinted: Am I a bitch?

Last week, someone dear to me called me a bitch. I wish I could say that was the first time, or that I’m turning my life around and it will be the last, but it won’t. It probably won’t even be the last time I get called a bitch in my own living room. 

Only this dear friend of mine, let’s call her Maya, had hours earlier insisted I wasn’t a bitch. So which is it? Am I a bitch or not? 

I was a bit nasty that day. Under my breath in line at Lawtons Drugs, with an armful of discount paper towels, I asked my friends, “What’s the point of having three cashiers if two are just going to stand around and watch the third work?”

This was shortly followed by moral panic. Maya explained that my bad attitude was not because I was needlessly inconsiderate toward likely nice people, but because of the cold, the rain and reasonable impatience. No, I am not a bitch. 

Later, in the warm living room of our apartment while laughing with our roommates, I joked at her expense, and she took back her earlier assurances. Yes, I am a bitch. 

Although I was quickly forgiven, I am known to be snide, judgemental and mean.

But the trouble with the word bitch is, well, I’m not always so terrible. I’m often kind, open-hearted and loving. Unlike being mean, being “bitchy” is not to do something, but to be someone — to act in the example of The Bitch. 

But who is this bitch? 

The Bitch is aloof and unfriendly; she’s mean, maybe intentionally cruel. ‘The Bitch’ is gossipy, cutting, cheating, sneaky and snide. The Bitch makes problems.

Bitch implies a whole number of things a woman should be. Maybe nice, maybe respectful, maybe humble, demure, unoffensive. The Riot grrrls of the ’90s reclaimed the title loudly, and defined a bitch as a woman who doesn’t cater to a man’s every whim. 

“Well, what about the Dick? Or the Asshole? Or the Jerk? Aren’t these identities used as insults the same way bitch is?” I asked. 

My friend Zoey, with feminist concerns, said no. To her, a bitch is one of the worst things you could call a woman. It associates femaleness with a particular brand of unpleasantness. The Bitch is not assessed purely on her actions. Rather, she is cutting, aloof or problem-starting because she is a bad type of woman. A bitch is a female dog or maybe a dog-like female. 

Well, woof. If that’s what being a bitch is, I’m it. Of course, no definition can encompass every use of the word — just as the women being called “bitches” are multifaceted. Their bad qualities aren’t dictated by their gender, but they will be understood that way. 

So, I’m stubborn, a nag, too loud, overproud, mean and outspoken. The shoe fits, and I’ve certainly been called a bitch enough to qualify. 

The best we can hope for is to have a Maya. She is patient, kind and generous with her judgment of people. If I wasn’t sure she’d read this, like the good friend that she is, I’d list some of her bad qualities too. 

The point is we balance each other out. As long as you are willing to listen and learn from other people, there’s nothing wrong with embracing who you are — the good stuff and the bad.

In fact, there’s nothing like taking a firm, empathetic look at yourself to understand other people and all their complexities.

Hey, you might even get a column out of it. 

Desperately in need of sound advice? Hated (or loved) everything (or anything) about the column? Don’t be shy! Let me know at rosetinted@dal.gazette.com