What it is to be a woman

Sugar and spice and all things nice.*

Girls are spiteful, judgmental, holier-than-thou, and generally catty.

Just as easy as the previous post, right?

Wrong.

Way too simple. So let’s go.

Forced into the same misogynistic roles across eternity, women have mastered the art of appearing frail—convincing the world of the superficiality of what is called beauty and what is accepted as ideal.

But when the mold is stretched—distorted—
an abandoned tribe of castoffs limps through the halls of forgotten dreams,
hoping someday they too might be chosen,
might be displayed,
might become the Barbies of the future.

Women are far too smart and too capable for their own good—
and too often, far too willing to perpetuate the lie:
the comforting stereotype that keeps the world from shaking.

Give them strength, and they threaten.
Give them power, and they dominate.
Take away their femininity—what then do they become?
Men?
Or something far more socially threatening—redefiners of what men were supposed to be?

They excel as breadwinners.
As home keepers.
As bearers of future progeny—
kept under wraps until they’re rolled out at galas and parades,
where beauty is stamped as both priority and the price of success.

They weep.
They rage.
They teach.
They endure.

Humans of substance, designed to bring sense to senses and meaning to the art of being human.

As educators, their task is absurd:
To fit into the shoes of another species
and maintain a delicate equilibrium
while playing by the rules of a game they never asked to join.

Evolved models of the past now press hard on the minds of all—
the bold, the tired, the unwilling, the unready.

Unaccustomed role reversal now threatens not just men,
but women themselves.
The comforting roles they once clung to
have become a battlefield.

And the fight for recognition is eternal.

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