Femininity

You know what I'm just a little tired of? Well yes, all that too, but, today's post is about the feminine and the tomboyish. I'm tired of the general assumption that all women are somehow oh so sensitive and nurturing. Growing up LDS, it used to drive me batty every time we had to sing As Sisters In Zion. Let me give you a little excerpt.

The errand of angels is given to women; And this is a gift that, as sisters, we claim: To do whatsoever is gentle and human, To cheer and to bless in humanity's name.

Now don't get me wrong, it's all feel-goody-uplifting and engenders feelings of sisterhood. But really, the errand of angels? To cheer and to bless in humanity's name? Doesn't that set up quite a lofty expectation of an entire gender? What if I'm not very gentle? Am I somehow less of a woman? Why? Because I'm not naturally gentle, nurturing or compassionate or overly caring. I have to work hard to eek out a little bit of those traits. Yes, over the years, especially as I've had children, perhaps I've learned a little more nurture and compassion, but honestly, mostly I've just learned patience (and that not very well).

And how about when society defines femininity like it's a dress code. I read about and talk to women that "just can't wear anything but heels" because it makes their legs look so feminine and who can't go out of the house without make up and just love to shop and can't imagine going swimming without waxing their entire body . . . yada yada. Someone once commented how her daughter is finally starting take care of herself again since she's wearing make-up and doing her hair and whatever. So what does that make the rest of us? The ones who think waxing is akin to water-boarding and who don't judge our femininity by the number of beauty products on the bathroom counter? Have we just let ourselves go? What if we never had a hold of ourselves in the first place?

I used to say I was a tomboy, but I don't really feel that describes it. I'm not boy-ish, I'm not butch. I'd say I'm rather feminine and curvy. I like feeling attractive and I think I can be pretty--when I want to be. I just don't give a rat's toosh about designer hand bags and I think pointy-toed shoes were invented by Satan. I don't cry at the drop of a hat (most days) and I find that my husband is much more nurturing and compassionate than I'll ever hope to be (in my defense, I handle power-tools much more effectively than he does).

This is not a post about equality or feminism. More-so, it's a post about individualism. I'm tired of any male/female stereotypes. I think it's grand if you like pumps and eyeliner and find your true calling in nurturing your child's every footstep. Let's just not assume that I'm somehow less of a woman if I prefer loafers and struggle daily to figure out how to keep my children alive, let alone nurture them. Some things just don't come naturally to some of us.

Let me try and figure out what my point is. I think it is this; feminine traits don't come automatically imprinted on the extra X chromosome. I think they are made up of part DNA and part of your own nurturing. You know, the old nature nurture argument. What comes so naturally to some, perhaps even most women, I've had to try and learn through hardscrabble trial and error--and I still don't quite get it--I can fake it, sometimes, which often is good enough.

I think I was prepared by both my nature and nurturing for the responsibilities and experiences the Lord has in store for me. Perhaps this is why I don't have daughters (I'm sure this is why I don't have more than two children, my nurture well is bone dry with just two. I cannot fathom trying to spread it around to 5 or so). Can you imagine what a terrible mother I'd be to a tiara-wearing princess of a little girl? I mean really, where do you stick the bow for starters?

So, I suppose this is a shout out to all those ladies out there that don't fit the mold, which really, is all of us--we all got a little sprinkling of this and that, mixed up with a generous helping of the other. Together it makes quite a stew and individually, we're fascinating. I love me some girly-girl friends (just don't be offended if I don't want to go shopping with you). It keeps life interesting. I just ask that you don't judge my worth on a few leg hairs (well, more than a few) and frumpy man-shoes. We'll get a long just fine.

P.S. I have a friend who still laughs at me because the first thing I did when I bought clothes to wear to the temple, was to cut the little bows of the slippers. Really, who needs a bow there? She's the only one who's ever notices though--or said something anyway.

P.P.S. And I once got really mad at my mother and told her never to buy me anything pastel EVER again.

P.P.S.S. When I was in high school, my brother and his friends formed a club called A.P.W.H.P.W.W.P. (say "App-whoop-whoop"). It stands for the Association of People Who Hate People Who Wear Pink. I wanted to join. He even made little business cards with a pink circle with a line through it. I thought it was awesome.

P.P.S.S.S Now I sometimes buy pink stuff for myself, though rarely anything with a bow.