When I woke up the morning after the election,  the first thing that came to mind is that my country’s newly elected leader views me as little more than a pussy to be grabbed. That is, grabbed if I were young and pretty enough. But as a size 8, 51 year old woman, I would be a fat, old, pathetic loser instead,  and would be bullied in a tweet storm if I even thought to challenge his adolescent, cruel, and supremely misogynistic worldview.

This is my new boss.

My new boss judges me on my skin, my face, my lips, my age.   I am a hard working, respectable, decent American who happily pays her taxes to fund infrastructure, who actually does give to charities, and who moved to a foreign, frigid, and forlorn land on the other side of the world, alone, to promote the values of American democracy and freedom. But none of those actions define me. I’m a fat pathetic loser only to be ranked on a hotness scale from 1 to 10. Are my boobs ok? Not firm enough? How’s my ass? Not quite so perky at 51? Let’s talk about it on national radio, because women are nothing but the sum of their physical attributes. This is the standard, according to my new boss.

“A person who is very flat-chested is very hard to be a 10,” he says to me.  Maybe I should include my cup size on my cv.  Is there a field for that in the department’s Global Employee Management database?  My new boss says, “You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass.”  But if she  isn’t young and beautiful?    “I’d fire (her). I mean, I’d look at her right in that fat, ugly face of hers, I’d say ‘…you’re fired.’”  

This is the culture that I face as a dedicated member of the Foreign Service. My new boss openly mocks disabled people, people of color, or anyone who disagrees with him.  He defrauds students and refuses to pay the hard workers he hires to paint his many properties.  He cheats on his wives and publicly brags about his sexual exploits. This is my new boss.

Well guess what, boss? Fuck you. Fuck you, you tiny-fingered, ill-mannered vulgarian, with your hideous orange comb-over weave (what in gods name is that thing), and your inch-think pancake makeup. Fuck you, you philandering, tax evading, insecure, small penis clown stick, with your tacky thousand dollar suits and your affinity for well-done steaks. You are the cheapest sort of cancer, preying on the petty fears and insecurities of the ignorant and uneducated. You pander to the lowest common denominator and you think you have won. Well let this pussy tell you something. You have not won anything yet. This is not over. I will undermine you and work to right these wrongs every second of every day. I will join forces with my sisters and we will destroy you, you miserable piece of shit. I will not be silent. You are a disgrace and a menace to the country that I love and cherish –  and THIS. MEANS. WAR.