You’re a woman. Be strong. Life
is going to throw many more challenges at you. You have to face them all.
I shiver.
Sometimes, I don’t want to
be strong. I want to give in to whatever the hell is going down; it’s could
very well be the only way my soul would be purged.
I don’t want to hold fort
all the time. And sometimes, I really cannot. My knees buckle and I can feel
the earth crumble beneath my feet.
Sometimes, I do not want to
take on the world. I don’t want to read feminist lines that talk about equality
of women and empowerment.
I cannot be a feminist. Feminism
is differentiation of some sort. I am human. To me, men and women are the same
- Both love, laugh, hate, hurt, cry and hide. Social definitions mean nothing
to me. I don’t care about straight people or gay people – I care about the line
between good and bad and I know that sometimes, a sandstorm can hide that line.
People cross over all the time. We are all guilty of something and if we sit on
our high horses and start to judge, we’re damned. And it won’t
matter whether we are straight or gay bi-curious or asexual.
Sometimes, I don’t want to
be a woman at all.
I don’t like the idea of
being told, “when you have your periods, it’s god’s way of telling you that you
hold the key to giving life.”
I don’t give life to
anything. I only facilitate the entrance. And I don’t want to bleed to prove
that.
I don’t want to be the woman who’s patted on the back for her bravery because people almost didn’t expect her to make it through to the next level.
I don’t want to be told how fortunate I am to have found someone who cares. Sometimes, I would like that to be said about me.
I wonder how many people would have told my husband that: you’re one lucky bastard to have her.
None of my exes, I am certain.
In my
weakest moments – when I can barely walk or lift a hand to push hair away from
my face, I have someone doing it for me. Someone helps me get off the bed and
put on my clothes, takes me to work and waits to bring me back. I have been
fed, hugged, comforted, tickled and entertained when all I wanted to do was crawl
under the bed and possibly, perish.
And that someone is not a
woman.
I am proud that I am alive
and healthy enough to earn a living. I am also proud that I am human. But
honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about being a woman. I think this whole
gender thing is way too overrated.
