T

his past Saturday, I stood in the 
campus Diag and saw countless 
signs for the Women’s March 

in Ann Arbor. Some of them were witty 
and creative, others were more direct 
and serious. But there was one sign in 
particular that stood out. Reading it 
made me re-evaluate how I see myself 
as a woman. The sign, simply put in 
black and white, read: Treat yourself 
the way you would treat your daughter. 
I had to go over this message in my mind 
because, no, I don’t have a daughter, and 
I couldn’t wrap my mind around the 
meaning.

Most signs were direct messages 

or questions, many revolving around 
women’s empowerment, LGBTQ rights, 
racism and President Donald Trump’s 
misogyny. So, it was odd to see a sign 
that provoked so many questions and 
made me reflect on how I respect 
myself. I felt like it made an assumption 
that I do not treat myself with the 
respect I would and should give to my 
hypothetical daughter.

At first I was confused and somewhat 

insulted, but after much consideration, 
this message rightfully began to make 
sense.

Far too often, there are times when 

I verbally beat myself up. Whether it 
be my body, my actions, my regrets 
or my relationships, I am consistently 
blaming myself for not believing in 
my full potential. And, no, this is 
not how all women treat themselves, 
but unfortunately I’ve noticed that 
I and the women around me share 
this notion (the Women’s March and 
movement is changing this norm — 
thank god).

So I actually asked myself: “How 

would I treat my daughter?”

Clearly, I would treat her with 

unconditional love: tell her she is 
beautiful the way she is, to never let 
anyone bully her, to fight for what she 
believes in, to wear what she wants, to 
say what she wants — the list would go 
on.

I immediately thought of my past, 

the regrets and painful moments 
scattered in my mind like a swarm of 
bees. Memories of being bullied, of all 
the apologies I should not have been 
sorry for, of all the times I gave up, of 
all the times I devoted so much to guys 
who treated me like shit, of all the times 
I cried because I didn’t like the way I 
looked, and, most painfully, the time I 
was sexually assaulted.

My assault happened my first term 

freshman year. Looking back, it feels 
so fast, so odd and so fuzzy — I did 
everything to block it out of my head. 
Anyone who has been assaulted might 
still feel those hands unbuttoning their 
jeans, can still smell the breath of the 
attacker, can still feel the surface they 
were being pushed up against, can 
hear the sound of pushing the attacker, 
the monster, off of them. It breaks my 
heart to know that that is not always 
the case.

The most mentally grotesque part 

of my story could be that, for an hour 
after, I thought it might actually have 
been my fault. If that were my daughter, 

I wouldn’t even let her finish that 
sentence.

I would hold her tight and tell her, 

“don’t you ever think that way.” I would 
tell her this is not OK and it will never 
be OK. I would tell her to report this and 
to have her voice be heard in marches, 
like the one this weekend — standing in 
front of a sea of people who understand 
what she has been through.

I would teach her and all my children 

that being a woman, in any and all 
aspects, is not something to beat 
yourself up about. It is not something to 
apologize for. Being a woman does not 
mean being inferior.

After sharing my story with friends, 

they, too, shared stories similar to my 
own. The fact that I can find this much 
common ground within my community 
of friends surprises me. This is what 
boils my blood.

And then the sign comes back into 

focus. I don’t want to just tell my friends 
“I’m so sorry” and “I understand.” I 
want to tell them, “Treat yourself the 
way you would treat your daughter.” I 
want them to take care of themselves 
the way they would take care of their 
daughters. And yes, maybe it’s not 
that simple in some cases, but maybe 
this is an opportunity to change our 
perspective on how we see ourselves as 
women.

If I could see that woman who held 

that sign again, I would thank her 
for opening my mind to a new kind 
of confidence and self-care. The next 
time I judge my body, apologize for 
something unnecessary or doubt my 
potential, I will remind myself of those 
nine simple, but groundbreaking words. 
Treat yourself the way you would treat 
your daughter.

2B

Managaing Editor:

Lara Moehlman

Deputy Editors:

Yoshiko Iwai

Brian Kuang 

Design Editor:

Katie Spak

Photo Editor:

Claire Abdo

Editor in Chief:

Emma Kinery 

Managing Editor:

Rebecca Lerner

Copy Editors:

Danielle Jackson

Taylor Grandinetti

THE STATEMENT: MICHIGA N IN COLOR 

Wednesay, Janurary 25th, 2017 // The Statement 

Little Things: Treat Yourself the Way You Would Treat Your Daughter 

B Y E R I K A S H E V C H E K , D A I LY A R T S W R I T E R

ILLUSTRATION BY CLAIRE ABDO

statement

THE MICHIGAN DAILY | NOVEMBER 16, 2016

