I love being a woman. As previous, foul-mouthed, posts have suggested, we [women] now have the ‘privileges’ of men and can “wear pants” as much as we damn well please. So the question was, what makes a woman a woman? What is the role? Who am I?
Here is why I adore being a woman and prefer it to manhood (because I’m so experienced at that ::snort::):
I get to play both roles and fluidly switch between both. I can be crude and not be judged. Usually. Then when a conversation needs deeper words, softer lighting, and kinder eyes, I can be that too. When I speak in cursive with a poetic tongue, I feel strong. Gender stereotypes have made most men feel more inhibited to do such.
I am independent and capable. I change my own light bulbs and use a power drill to get through the stupid studs in the walls (18 holes later). I love being a woman who can do these things…but I’ll relinquish that job and give in to stereotypes and let my dad do it because it is easier.
Physically, I know I may not be as able. Physicality seems to be the majority of our differences. Science has proven women need more sleep than men. That we cannot physically build the same amount of muscle as a man no matter how we try. Although it has not been scientifically proven, I’m also sure that glass jars are women-proof, as well.
Women are the “nurturers” of the world. Not that men can’t be kind and rear children bla bla bla, but innately, we tend to take ownership of that. I’m ok with this. Not just with children but men. Knowing of their pride and how to deal with wounded egos is something I feel we own in spades.
Even though we are able to be men now, the softer heart and siren like ability seems to be innately ‘woman’ and why I love being one. Bold, firey, wild, tender, soft, kind. One big mess of curly tangles, fragility, quips, and conviction are mine as a woman. My role is to support men in their endeavors, be kind if they fall, listen and talk with (not at), and partner up to take down the bad guy.
What is a mans role to me? What I want, what I believe, is that he is to be my advocate. To fight for all of my rights to be both a man and a woman. He is a protector of my femininity and my boldness. He will open that damned jelly jar and make me feel girlish but let me hack away at the walls with power tools, because he knows I need to feel capable too. He keeps me within reason because, as a woman (and as myself), I can get overly analytical about certain things.
I don’t believe in black and white in this situation. This whole post seems a jumble of thoughts pouring out of my mind. While not definitive, it is small pin point in my feelings on ‘us’.
Maybe Shania Twain is the only expert on this, “The best thing about being a woman, is the prerogative to have a little fun….Color my hair, do what I dare, oh! Men’s shirts, short skirts, oh! Be totally free, yea. Man, I feel like a woman.”