Wednesday, January 11, 2012

What does it mean to be "feminine"?

As I was debating the topic on which to write (cleaning, cabin fever, dancing like a maniac with my best friend...), this question came to me: what does it mean to be truly "feminine"?
A few weeks ago I got a new pair of sweatpants. They're black with blue and teal letters stitched on that say something about Aeropostle. These pants are warm, comfy, flattering by conventional standards, and slightly to long. Right after I bought them, I walked into the living room to show them to my Mom who said "You know, I think you look for feminine in those pants than you do in your long skirts," (I wear a lot of long skirts). To this I had a brilliant reply! It was something about her merely being subject to the conventional rules of society regarding femininity, which translates into showing off your figure... and skin. She completely bashed my argument by saying she could actually tell I was a girl when I wore the pants since they showed that I possess legs.
That argument makes me wonder, do I need to show my legs and chest to be seen as a woman? If I do, I gather lustful attention, which obviously I do not approve of; however, when I wear skirts, people avoid me like the plague! Seems lose-lose to me.
In my religion class last semester, there was a decent amount of discussion on sexual equality (or lack of), particularly in Eastern religions. For example, in India there are lots of arranged marriages, particularly in more rural communities. Aside from the women being property aspect and often being murdered by the grooms family, the idea of arranged marriages in America seems horrific. A new side was presented to me though: that that way the girl can focus on her job and her family and religion and not need to worry about exposing herself to attract a mate.
Here in America in order to be considered "attractive" or even "pretty" you need push up bras and short shorts and low cut tops. Most people know this, of course. Why is this needed though? In our over sexed society, lust rules. Unfortunately, it is justified by saying that it's "natural", but that reduces us to animals.
So I petition a different way, one that I feel is often overlooked. Yay moderation! In other words, not wearing man clothes, feeling obliged to long skirts (unless you like them as much as I), and also not dressing up like a hooker. Shorts can be nice and feminine, but really ladies? I don't want to see your underwear hangin' out. It's just trashy. What about that GORGEOUS yet sadly low-cut top at the mall? Cami's are a girls best friend (especially the bright colored ones that can really spice up an outfit!).
Gosh, I sound old-fashioned... but smart girls, kind girls, modest girls, and the girls who don't walk like ducks to draw attention to the boobs and butts are the best kind. Not saying you can't kiss the boyfriend or wear a skirt above the knee, but having a line drawn is something that I wish I'd done from the very beginning.
This is very ramble-esque, so I think I'll stop now. Having a line drawn on cussing, clothing, boys, and the amount of pink you wear are all important to think on though ;)


I hide my thoughts inside my head,
It's the only safe place left.
Pages are easily opened and read,
While the mind is not easily cleft.

There is no privacy in sight.
I must not leave a living light,
An active thought recorded.
All that comes of dreams is plight.
Who can say when musing is right?

When subconscious music,
Droning placidly hypnotic
Finally finds the surface,
It wanders, stoic;
Ever tracking the chaotic.

They flit aimlessly, lost.
Confused, cold as frost
They linger, like long winters.
With anger they're embossed,
Finally, they're glossed.

In other words, I dare
To challenge that it's fare
To hold my mind captive;
Without a breathe of air,
Or a neighbor to compare.

Through this exposure,
I now plea:
Give me some closure
Or privacy!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Lets Fight.

I have improved. At least that's what I've been told, and that I have a good aptitude for fighting. If I could only silence my anger and fear, then things could be golden.

A couple weeks back I sparred with my "brother" Lee (who happens to be a black belt), both because it sounded fun and because I'd like to know how to defend myself. For a long time, as long as I can remember, I've wanted to know how to fight. To be one of those bad ass chicks who can wipe jerks who step out of line on the floor, doesn't that sound thrilling? Having the swag of someone who has nothing to be afraid of... that feeling of confidence lures me like mermaid song.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth... I mean, in the beginning, I really sucked. Almost all the punches and pokes got right through my feeble blocks and I was clueless as to how to defend myself against locks. When we finished I was covered in bruises, rather sore into the next day, but confident that I could get better. Even throughout that evening I learned a few things, like how to keep myself from getting choked, how to break my wrists free if someone has them, and to NEVER expose my back (while I learned this, I still forget from time to time...).

On Sunday night we sparred again, and I was faced with ankle locks, twisted arms, painful blocks, over-stretched muscles, and blocked arteries. Evidently, I almost blacked out, but I don't remember that. However, even though I got more injuries than the last time, I managed to deal out my share! More than once, even if it didn't last, I was on the offensive with all the advantage. Lee received a fair share of bruises. All that was missing was my will, the actual desire to win.

That needs to be rephrased. I WANTED to win with all my heart, but even though by nature I am a violent person, even though I talk some smack, I never truly want or enjoy inflicting pain on others. In order to succeed, a few rules need to be broken. This is generally true of most things in life. My fear of failure, my fear of actually hurting someone (which is for somewhat selfish reasons I'd rather not speak of), and my fear of success to some degree, keep me where I am.

Now, through my desire to overcome fear and reach a goal I've had for so long, I will continue to fight with a slightly bigger purpose than I originally intended. At least I can have fun with this goal! I'm thankful for those in my life who help me to see my problems and address them in ways I understand. Whether they be Lee who helps me fight, my sweetheart who helps me with things of the soul, or my Mother who helps me in daily life. So now, my loves, for all that matters in this life and the next, lets fight.