Now, I should start off by clarifying my title by saying that I do not believe that the Feminist movement of the past fifty years has completely come to a close, but I will say that it is in it’s twilight (Seriously, why can’t I even TYPE that word with out twitching a little). We, being my generation, are riding on the success and failures of our mothers and grandmothers (And those really awesome Fathers and Grandfathers as well) and live in a world much different, much better than we will ever truly, understand. Even though incredibly over due, the drastic social changes that happened within a short, generational period, have left a unique mark upon women my age. I’ve noticed, personally, this mark came in the form of feelings that I must prove myself. That I must show ‘the boys’ that I could do things even though I was a girl.
This philosophy started, naturally, where the trial runs of ‘feminine’ and ‘masculine’ first begin to rear their ugly heads – the playground. It began simply with attempting to try and chicken fight any of the boys that challenged me on the monkey bars, then it grew into who could get hit the hardest and not cry. (side note: this was the point in time where I started to “flirt” by hitting- needless to say this never worked out). I also came to know the names “Tomboy” and “Dike” quiet well. By the time I hit 5th grade, I was a frequent on the flag football field at recess. This, not because I loved the game, but simply, to put the boys in their place. I was horrible at football, but I truly wanted to be known as “The Girl Who Can Play Football……Adequately” This all ended in a single game, in a single recess, when, after realizing I had played an entire game with my fly down, I was dismissed by the boys when a random (pansy) voice called from the crowd: “Eww! Don’t you have to go learn how to put on eyeliner or something?”
I cried.
I was not only humiliated, but I was also alone. All this time I had spent proving myself (or running about looking like I was proving myself) to the boys, I had stopped hanging out with the people who shared my genitalia. I had no idea how to properly put on eye make-up then, and still, to this day I don’t, much to the dismay of my Esthetician mother. (Sorry Mom!)
After the wounds of my youth healed a bit, my thoughts on the subject changed when I realized the “strong female” template I had tried so desperately to shove myself into, wasn’t reality. That underneath this movement of equality, was a compromise that women sadly seemed to have given into without knowing. That to become equal, we somehow had to overpower men, and to overpower men, we had to become more like them. Become suit-wearing CEO’s, to perpetuate male stereotypes of aggressiveness and over-ambitiousness.
Perhaps I am naive in saying this, but this idea seems to be a cop-out of truly reaching equality, an equality that doesn’t sacrifice identity. I am a woman, and I shouldn’t have to “play boy or man” in order to succeed in life. I should be a woman, who because I am human, and have the ability to do so, should reach towards my goals.
Man, this has me all worked up… I’m going to go bake some cookies.
