Change is the only constant as our Zen brothers and sisters have observed, so we may as well learn to live with it. Why fight the inevitable?…
I don’t really understand the attraction of keeping things just the same , except that it presumably gives an illusion of control. Hah. I’ve recently read a book about the ‘spiritual ‘ aspect of menopause, by a shaman lady who was born in Seattle and lives (or lived) in Los Angeles (much less rain). She and her apprentices all complain of their bodies being “out of their control” as they enter menopause. Hey, girls, you never had any control before – just more predictability, assuming your cycles were regular.
She talks about hormones going “out of balance” quite a lot, when the balance is changing, is all. Japanese ladies don’t have all this hoo-ha about losing youth, mojo, fertility et al, and it can’t all be down to their tofu. Men don’t want to follow you around anymore?
Halle-bloody-lujah. Peace at last.
“Why Do You Think You Are Nothing Without Men Looking At You Like A Sex Object?”
Hmmm. Not a snappy book title, but maybe it is, you know…
How much difference is there really between that 1950’s housewife imperative, that the little lady should tidy herself up and put on a nice frock and fresh lippy before hubby comes home, so he’s got something nice to look at and wait on his needs, and the 2000’s imperative that a girl should keep herself trim, pump up her breasts and dress like a hooker and put on makeup that makes her look plastic, so that men can have something nice to look at and service their “needs”. What exactly is the difference? Some marriage advisers back in the day, before “women’s liberation’ also advised the little lady to greet hubby at the door after work, while dressed up as a hooker, in order to “spice up” the marriage, and serve the poor fellows “needs” for erotic excitement.
It appears to me that women have been ‘liberated” from one cage into another. Not that all women enter it, and some stick to the old one. But it is sold as “freedom”, “power” etc, and is no more free and powerful than the good little housewife in her cocktail frock, putting aside her own interests and power and personality in order to be a prop and a comfort to her husband.
Once it was believed that nature had especially designed women to be kind and nurturing and to soothe a man’s furrowed brow; now some folk are equally sure that evolution has designed women to flash their tits and like pink. Oh, purlease. Give us a break, will ya!
Women are humans who have XX chromosomes, which cause them to have ovaries and uterus and mammary glands, all for the growing and feeding of babies. Men are humans who have XY chromosomes, causing their ovaries to drop down and become testes, and the clitoris becomes a penis, in order that they may provide the zygotes to fertilise the ova produced by women, in order to make babies and propagate the species. Both genders have the same hormones, in different combinations according to their needs – their needs being predicated around the baby-making imperative The other differences between men and women are cultural. Culture and experience build the brain, influence the production of hormones etc etc. Women do not like pink because their hunter-gatherer forebears looked for red berries. Men do not like blue because their hunter-gatherer forebears hunted meat under blue skies.
Women (westernised women) tend toward pink because pink-for-girls has been ground into them since birth. Men tend toward blue (and sharply away from pink- unless it’s genital) because they also have had blue-for-boys, pink-for-girls ground into them from birth, along with the deeply embedded cultural idea that boys are better and that girls are worse. Doing “girl” things is a sure way for a boy to lose status. It is far more tolerable for a girl to do “boy” things than the other way around. (So long as she doesn’t get her pink dress dirty…)
Time for a change!
Photographs are of flowers in my garden, mixed-media artworks, a Tibetan ‘yab-yum’ figure, symbolising the balance of male and female energies, and, if I remember rightly, condensation on cling-wrap.
One of the books that helped me form these ideas is –
and I referenced the classic “Why do I Think I Am Nothing without a Man”, (1983) by Penelope Russianoff
My husband looked over my shoulder and asked if I am “anti-male at the moment”.
No. Just anti sexist claptrap.