Editorial: The Permission Slip We Gave For Grab 'Em By The Pussy

Every few months, a new phrase surfaces online—something crude, demeaning, or hostile towards women—followed by a wave of shock. This time, it’s “quiet, piggy.” Last time, it was something else. And each time, the reaction is the same: How did language get this ugly? How did men start saying this out loud?

But if we trace the line back, it leads to a place we know all too well.

Phrases once dismissed as “locker-room talk.” Like, “Grab ’em by the pussy.” A phrase that people defended. A phrase that millions laughed at, minimised, excused, or brushed aside. A phrase that didn’t just enter the public sphere—it was allowed to stay there.

We didn’t want to believe it mattered. We didn’t want to admit it said something about our culture. We didn’t want to confront the power that language holds. And now we sit here—shocked that the next generation of phrases grew from the soil we refused to weed. 

The first laughter is often the first lesson. When we first heard “Grab ’em by the pussy,” and the world didn’t fall apart, something else happened instead: a message quietly settled into the minds of many.

If he can say it, why can’t I?
If people laugh, why shouldn’t I?
If women stay quiet, then what’s the harm?

The truth is uncomfortable: the first nervous chuckle is often the first permission slip. Not because women want to excuse it, but because women have been taught to avoid conflict, to soften the discomfort, to be “good” and “easy-going” in the face of vulgarity.

We’ve all been there. A man says something crude. The table shifts. A few people hesitate. Someone chuckles to break the tension. And then—everything returns to normal.

Except it doesn’t. Because that small moment teaches him he’s safe to say it again. And louder next time.

This is how the bar lowers—one spared confrontation at a time.

Silence isn't neutral. It's fuel. Women are often told that silence keeps the peace. But silence doesn’t keep peace—it keeps power exactly where it already is.

When women stay quiet after these phrases are said, we don’t stand in neutrality. We stand in the gap that allows the behaviour to continue.

When we laugh nervously, we’re signalling:
I won’t challenge you.
I won’t call this out.
I won’t make this uncomfortable.

That silence is misunderstood as approval. Not because women approve, but because men who enjoy this language are looking for reasons to believe they’re in the right.

We see the outcome of that misunderstanding in every new phrase that shocks the world. We keep acting like this escalation is surprising, but escalation is the natural next step of unchallenged behaviour.

Language doesn’t spiral on its own. It spreads because it’s allowed to.

We hand over power quietly, long before the consequences are loud.

We hand it over when we avoid calling out inappropriate comments at work. We hand it over when we laugh along to keep the mood “light.” We hand it over when a public figure says something harmful and we label it “banter.” We hand it over when we decide it’s not worth the argument.

And then, when the behaviour escalates into something we cannot ignore—harassment, humiliation, violence—we ask: How could this happen?

But it didn’t begin with violence. It began with jokes. With phrases. With the cultural shrug that follows them.

If we want to understand how we arrived at “quiet, piggy,” we have to acknowledge the trail of phrases we stepped over on the way. People often defend harmful language by claiming “they’re just words.” But words shape culture before actions ever follow.

A man doesn’t leap from respect to abuse. He walks there, one unchecked phrase at a time. The path is paved by the words he hears men praised for. The silence he hears from women. The groups that laugh. The peers that nod.

When men hear that women’s bodies are punchlines, or props, or objects to grab, belittle, or command, it affects how they view women long before they ever lay a hand on one.

Words build beliefs. Beliefs build behaviour. Behaviour builds the world we live in.

Nothing about this is accidental. The question isn't why men say these things? 

The real question is: Why did we ever let them?

Why did we let “Grab ’em by the pussy” live in our culture without consequence? Why did we normalise men who find these phrases funny? Why did we allow these moments to pass without challenge? Why did we let silence carry the weight of acceptance?

Because every time we looked away, the message grew stronger. And every time we laughed, the line moved further. And every time we said nothing, we made room for the next phrase.

If we want something different, we have to stop treating language as harmless.

Where do we go from here? This about recognising the environment we were raised in—one where speaking up was often punished, and staying quiet was often safer.

But we’re in a new moment now. We understand more. We expect more. We’re done pretending that language is harmless. We’re done excusing harmful “jokes.” We’re done letting vulgarity be disguised as banter.

And we’re done acting shocked when the culture we allowed produces the behaviour we fear.

To shift this, we don’t need to shout every time. We don’t need to fight every battle. We just need to stop giving silence as a gift to those who misuse it. Because the moment we stop quietly absorbing these words, the culture changes. The message changes. And the power shifts.

Not overnight, but with every woman who refuses to laugh. With every woman who says, “That’s not funny.” With every woman who names the behaviour for what it is.

Because it starts with words. And it can end with us.