The other day, I crumpled to floor sobbing because I was a woman.

Before you jump to conclusions, let me explain. These past couple months, I can’t seem to escape the confines of my gender. By this I am not referring whatsoever to my sexuality, but to the roles, restrictions, troubles and danger of lacking a Y chromosome.

You are wondering why I hate being a woman?

I hate it because I’ve heard close male friends, and many acquaintances, make jokes about a woman’s place in the home.

I hate it because I’ve gone along with the jokes.

I hate it because a lot of men pretend sexism in the business world isn’t real.

I hate it because for every $1.00 a man might make at the same job I have, I make less.

I hate it because in my business classes, when asked a question, girls answer with the inflection of a question mark in their sentence.

I hate it because I’ve done that.

I hate it because being a woman means I’m told I can’t travel alone — that I will get harassed. Attacked. Taken advantage of.

I hate it because to see the world, sometimes I have to travel alone — and recognize that I might get harassed, attacked, or taken advantage of simply because I carry the wrong private parts.

I hate it because being aware of my sexuality makes me a slut.

I hate it because I have called myself a slut.

I hate it because sometimes women lie about events because of sexual shame.

I hate it because women close to me - by blood and by relationship - have been raped.

I hate it because 1 in 4 women will be raped in their lifetime.

I hate it because it could happen to me.

I hate it because I tried to verify that statistic -- but I can’t. Because reporting sexual assault, especially as a college woman, is notoriously difficult, unreliable, and painful.

I hate it because men feel entitled to my body and attention. I’ve had men call me a “stupid bitch” because I didn’t appreciate their advances.

I hate it because people give compliments to women, starting when they are little girls, along the lines of: “You are so pretty.”

I hate it because the best compliment I ever received was, “You looked strong today.”

I hate it because I had to write a letter about all the things I hate. I hate that I had to write about how terrified, angry, and frustrated I am just about my gender.

I hate being a woman, a lot of the time -- but I am proud of it. I am proud that despite all that, women still go on to do amazing things. I hope I end up being one of those women. I hope I am strong, I work past the obstacles of being a woman, or even better- that they don’t even phase me.