Secrets of a Young Woman
Okay, so as of this moment in time I’m in a few women’s studies classes here at the U and I’ve had to do a lot of reading and research regarding the second wave feminist movement that began at the end of WW2. Anyway, one day I was just really feeling a lot of anger and sadness from everything that I’ve been reading about and I decided to go on a little rant myself about what injustices I feel now and then.
I’m not saying that this is how I feel all the time, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about feminism and if I am one or not. I do know that it’s tough being a woman and that really, a lot of guys don’t understand. Do know this, right now I’ve read the S.C.U.M Manifesto by Valerie Solonas and I’ve just finished reading, “Where the Girls Are” by Susan Douglas. I wrote my little schpiel in the middle of reading of “Where the Girls Are.” I recommend that you take a chance to read it, it has a lot to do with media manipulation of women’s culture, I’m not saying it isn’t the most biased book in the world, but it does provide insight into why women have achieved so little. And also, I don’t want anyone to think that I’m bashing on guys or that women are stupid if they don’t think like feminists. This is just a certain point in my life where I’ve reached this understanding about myself as a young woman. There’s also a few quotes that I came up with after my little essay that I found amusing, so I added them in for my own interest. By the way, this is my journal, a place to express my thoughts and ideas, not a place for people to patronize and criticize them. Okay, so I begin.
I’m a twenty-one year old young woman from Canada who lives in a house full of men. Five of them to be exact, and I find myself more often than not, wanting to refer to them as boys rather than men. There have been too many occasions where I find myself picking up after them or worrying over their well being due to their occasional child-like behaviour. This is not their fault entirely, I understand; what bothers me is the constant feeling I have that it is my duty or responsibility to take care of what they do not. I am by no means a lover of chores but again, unlike my housemates, I cannot stand to live in constant filth.
I’ve also found that of which I own to stand out, sexually. My frilly loofah and my cotton-candy pink coloured razors make it quite clear that a female lives here also. Moreover, I find myself hiding some of my “girly” things because of embarrassment. Things like my bright pink pad wrapper in the garbage (which I take time to strategically hide in a toilet paper roll so that it’s not in view) or my lace underwear so that they don’t think I’m some sort of kinky sex maniac (which by no means is why ANY woman owns lace underwear, but you know…). The thing is, it’s as if this embarrassment and shame was innate. I have no shameful feelings on these subjects, it’s as though I’m conditioned to feel this way. Finally, in a house of guys, I find that although their outbursts of anger may be purely driven by testosterone, similarly, my outbursts are always considered by them to be driven by “that time of the month.” It was brought to my attention that I’m writing this paper for no reason. But I wouldn’t be writing if there wasn’t a reason. What I’m simply trying to understand is how I (and perhaps other women feel this way too) must take on burdens such as responsibility, sexuality, and shame when they are not my burdens. Why is there such an inherent “feminine attitude”? Is it from my own upbringing? The media? Or is it simply just emotional attachment? The next thing I must consider is, how do I go about changing or stopping these stereotypical urges and realize that everyone, first and foremost is responsible for themselves and their own well being.
Quotes
Ever since grade 4, I’ve always had a fascination with boys. At first it was the cool games they got to play with. As I got older I began to envy how easy their friendships were and how straightforward they thought. Now that I’m older, I’m not so fascinated anymore, as I’m in wonder of how much they can get away with based on the fact that, “boys will be boys.”
I was the only girl in a place packed with ambitious female rockers, who slam danced.
Boxers…since when is that clothing?
I’m not saying that this is how I feel all the time, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about feminism and if I am one or not. I do know that it’s tough being a woman and that really, a lot of guys don’t understand. Do know this, right now I’ve read the S.C.U.M Manifesto by Valerie Solonas and I’ve just finished reading, “Where the Girls Are” by Susan Douglas. I wrote my little schpiel in the middle of reading of “Where the Girls Are.” I recommend that you take a chance to read it, it has a lot to do with media manipulation of women’s culture, I’m not saying it isn’t the most biased book in the world, but it does provide insight into why women have achieved so little. And also, I don’t want anyone to think that I’m bashing on guys or that women are stupid if they don’t think like feminists. This is just a certain point in my life where I’ve reached this understanding about myself as a young woman. There’s also a few quotes that I came up with after my little essay that I found amusing, so I added them in for my own interest. By the way, this is my journal, a place to express my thoughts and ideas, not a place for people to patronize and criticize them. Okay, so I begin.
I’m a twenty-one year old young woman from Canada who lives in a house full of men. Five of them to be exact, and I find myself more often than not, wanting to refer to them as boys rather than men. There have been too many occasions where I find myself picking up after them or worrying over their well being due to their occasional child-like behaviour. This is not their fault entirely, I understand; what bothers me is the constant feeling I have that it is my duty or responsibility to take care of what they do not. I am by no means a lover of chores but again, unlike my housemates, I cannot stand to live in constant filth.
I’ve also found that of which I own to stand out, sexually. My frilly loofah and my cotton-candy pink coloured razors make it quite clear that a female lives here also. Moreover, I find myself hiding some of my “girly” things because of embarrassment. Things like my bright pink pad wrapper in the garbage (which I take time to strategically hide in a toilet paper roll so that it’s not in view) or my lace underwear so that they don’t think I’m some sort of kinky sex maniac (which by no means is why ANY woman owns lace underwear, but you know…). The thing is, it’s as if this embarrassment and shame was innate. I have no shameful feelings on these subjects, it’s as though I’m conditioned to feel this way. Finally, in a house of guys, I find that although their outbursts of anger may be purely driven by testosterone, similarly, my outbursts are always considered by them to be driven by “that time of the month.” It was brought to my attention that I’m writing this paper for no reason. But I wouldn’t be writing if there wasn’t a reason. What I’m simply trying to understand is how I (and perhaps other women feel this way too) must take on burdens such as responsibility, sexuality, and shame when they are not my burdens. Why is there such an inherent “feminine attitude”? Is it from my own upbringing? The media? Or is it simply just emotional attachment? The next thing I must consider is, how do I go about changing or stopping these stereotypical urges and realize that everyone, first and foremost is responsible for themselves and their own well being.
Quotes
Ever since grade 4, I’ve always had a fascination with boys. At first it was the cool games they got to play with. As I got older I began to envy how easy their friendships were and how straightforward they thought. Now that I’m older, I’m not so fascinated anymore, as I’m in wonder of how much they can get away with based on the fact that, “boys will be boys.”
I was the only girl in a place packed with ambitious female rockers, who slam danced.
Boxers…since when is that clothing?