2008-02-27 8:18 p.m.
I'm Not a Feminist, but God Do I Ever Sound Like One!
When I was little, I used to watch Xena every Saturday. I wasn't allowed to, something or other about it being "too violent" for an eight year old, but I did anyway. I watched Xena and Beastmaster and Hercules, bad acting and all, and I loved the shows.
So, I was in class today, and we were talking about emotional health, and where people learn effective management of their emotions. Which was just an irritating discussion, because it was all based on some pop psychology bullshit.
So I came back to my dorm afterward, and was checking postsecret, since I haven't had a chance to do that yet. This one postcard bothered me...it read, "Were you afraid to tell your friends that you were dating a fat girl?" and had pictures of half-naked supermodels and a hand-drawn picture of a chubby naked girl.
My mom has told me from the time I was 10 that unless I was skinny and "beautiful" I would end up lonely, unloved, and unwanted. Not in so many words, granted, but the message was unmistakable.
Women had enough issues to deal with, regarding beauty, without our mothers going and adding fuel to the fires.
I mean, really. The standards that we're supposed to live up to are fucking ridiculous. I hate how women are supposed to somehow manage to be these gorgeous, brilliant, charming, caring, maternal-yet-independent, sophisticated, tall, slender-but-with-gigantic-boobs, clever, witty, Barbie doll, bombshell, genius sex kittens who can cure HIV, raise three kids singlehandedly, make a five-course gourmet meal, make beautiful art, know everything about everything, and be well-informed on politics and world happenings - simultaneously - while still finding time to have earth-shattering, mind-blowing, passionate, multi-orgasmic sex with their husbands, keep a house looking like it came out of the pages of Home and Garden magazine, and micro-manage every detail in the lives of their family members to keep them from ruining things. To make it worse, those impossible standards aren't even to be considered extraordinary, they're to be considered "worthy" of attention. No wonder sexism sucks so much.
And yet, at the same time, men can be fat, balding, have miserable personalities and still think that they deserve the "perfect" woman as society's standards demand all women to be "perfect".
I'm not a feminist. Really. I don't like it when either gender has the upper hand over the other. We're all equal - different, yes, but as human beings we deserve to be equal.
Unfortunately, the world will never be equal until men can carry around the rough equivalent of a ten-pound beach ball in their stomachs for nine months and then push it out of their crotch. (Ew)
The world will never be equal until women can gain 50 pounds, lose their hair, and live in a pig sty and still believe - genuinely - that they are attractive to the opposite sex.
The world will never be equal until we stop medicalizing the natural processes that women's bodies go through. Pregnancy is not an illness women need to be cured of, so why have we medicalized birth and turned it into this ordeal that all too often ends in surgery? Menstrual cycles (while they admittedly suck) are not diseases or illnesses - we don't need to be "cured" of them; indeed, a lack of them can sometimes be the only indicator that something is wrong with a woman's body.
I don't see us medicalizing any of the natural processes men go through - at least, not to the same extent that women's lives are medicalized.
And the list continues. The sexes aren't equal, it's true. But we should be treated the same. And if women have to be nearly perfect Barbie dolls (although I say screw that), then men should have to be nearly perfect Ken dolls.
Not that anyone wants that either.
I have this impression that people somehow think that other people are like cars or iPods - there's always a better, newer, cooler one out there, so why settle? The problem is that people are not made to the same mold. There's such incredible variation and variety in the human race, but in our typical destructive fashion, we want to reduce it all to the least common denominator, make everyone the same and rob the human world of its natural beauty and elegance.
There's no such thing as a "better" person, not in the same way that there's always a better iPod or car or computer. Everyone is perfect, in their own way. Yeah, someone might be a better match, but if something's working out, why do people have to go and ruin it because they're afraid of "settling"?
I just have this ironic idea in my head that everyone's going to keep thinking that they "deserve" and can find "better", and so everyone's going to keep "trading up", over and over, until eventually there's nothing left to trade up to and everyone ends up alone. And then the people who were told that they had "settled" will be the only ones left who are happy and in fulfilling relationships - and thank God, too, because do we really want to keep passing this shallow attitude of "I can do better" down the gene pool for eternity? I certainly don't.
Then again, I don't want kids.
But that's a different issue.
So I was over on Jane's page, and she was talking about beauty. What it is, what makes someone believe that they're beautiful, things like that.
The truth is I don't know, in my own case. But it's an important question. I think that we, as individuals and as a society, spend far too much time focusing on negatives - especially about ourselves.
Not that I'm miss happy-peppy-I-love-my-life-and-everything-in-it girl, but seriously, we could all do with some serious attitude readjustment.
So why am I beautiful? Hm.
Good question.
When I was a kid, I really liked the Goo Goo Dolls' song "Slide" and the line in it, "Oh, May, put your arms around me. What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful."
I still think it's a beautiful sentiment, that a person is what's on the inside, and that beauty is determined by what a person is rather than what they look like. I've always felt like beauty isn't something that can be quantified...it just IS.
But some specifics... Loyalty to friends is beautiful. Trust is beautiful. Love and friendship are the most beautiful things in the universe.
I like to avoid physical standards of beauty...mainly because I feel like I don't live up to them. But I have beautiful eyes. They're a sort of jade green in the iris, with a kind of amber brown around the pupil and at the outer edges. Inside, my eyes look brown, but in sunlight, they're really quite amazing. Trick of genetics, though, not something I can claim credit for.
My personality - when I'm in a good mood - is really what's best/most beautiful about me.
I have a wicked sense of humor, when I can be bothered to snark about with people.
When I tell stories, people keep asking me to tell more, and they listen with rapt attention. The only times I've ever been the center of attention were when I was telling stories, whether they were about adventures with friends or retellings of things I'd read/heard. When I tell stories, though, I'm no longer aware of anything except the thread of the story...the magic I'm weaving. It's a power, in a sense, being able to transport people to other places and times, if only for a moment, by your words. And it's a heady power...I love telling stories. I just rarely get the courage to speak up.
I would do anything in the world for someone I cared about, and I would never ask for anything in return. My friendship is unconditional, and it lasts forever.
I don't care about acting stupid or looking a fool. Life's a learning journey...I see no point in stopping myself from experiencing anything.
When I get dressed up, I can be pretty. I have a cute face, according to people who would know, but according to pretty much the whole universe, my being overweight "ruins" that. Well, screw you, world: I'm not changing for anyone. Because I'm finally happy (enough) with myself. I don't need to add eating disorders to the list of shit I've survived.
My sense of style is beautiful. I have only beautiful clothing, and my room is beautifully decorated. I have to say that, despite being utterly undomestic in every way, I am a damn good interior decorator.
I make beautiful art. I've even used my body as a canvas before, and I'm still proud of the photographs of the art that I drew all over my skin. As a work of art, I can be stunning.
So there.
Screw you, world. I'm fabulous, whether or not I live up to you bloody standards.
Or something. I'm just in a defiant mood tonight.
On that cheerful note, I'm off to work on my novel.
