What is Woman
Before we get into what this article is about, let me just have a minute to explain the title and intention behind what I am going to write. This article isn’t some complainy, feminist piece intended to shake up women’s egos and ruffle feathers. It’s also not some deep, insightful look into the “mysterious and forbidden life of a woman.” It’s not really anything in particular. As a girl who hangs out with mostly guys, and who has done so for most of her life due to having grown up with two brothers, I’m often surprised by how little guys really know about us. Now, I don’t blame guys for this, and I don’t blame girls either. But by some virtue of the laws of society, guys can’t just walk up and ask, “Hey there, I was wondering, what is it like to be a girl,” even if they ever decided they wanted to. And heck, it’s not like girls would really know how to answer that, and would probably suspect the guy is up to something sketchy or creepy. So to simplify things, I figured I would write about what it’s like to be a girl, from my perspective. For those who may be interested, eternally curious, or just slightly bored at the time, take a peek into our world. And what I really wanted to write about first was the topic of appearances. So there, that’s my spiel. Here we go.
“Love yourself, girl, or nobody will, though you a woman I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure to look impressive and go out in heels. I feel for you, killing yourself to find a man that’ll kill for you. You wake up, put make up on, stare in the mirror but it’s clear that you can’t face what’s wrong. No need to fix what God already put his paintbrush on. Your roommate yelling, ‘Why you gotta take so long?’ What it’s like to have a crooked smile”
Today is my last night in the beautiful country of Bolivia, in which the scenery is unlike any other and the food is amazing. Unfortunately, it’s very common here for men to whistle at women, honk at them from their cars, and make comments about their legs, breasts, or butt. In my home country, girls obsess over plastic surgery from their pre-teen years, wear tight clothes when they walk the streets, and are expected to always wear make-up and be beautiful. In America, you get a little bit of everything, and although it is certainly more subtle, the expectations and pressure are still very much alive. I want guys to understand that this isn’t about what women look like. It’s not even about how confident women are or aren’t. It has nothing to do with being pretty, ugly, tall, short, skinny, fat, attractive or not. It’s about being a woman, and the strangling pressure that we all feel to constantly please the eye, regardless of everything. And if we don’t please the eye, we aren’t doing our jobs. And that is just flat out dumb.
“To all the women with the flaws, know it’s hard, my darling. You wonder why you’re lonely and your man’s not calling. You keep falling victim ‘cause you’re insecure. And when I tell you that you’re beautiful, you can’t be sure. Cause he don’t seem to want you back, and it’s got you asking. So all you see is what you’re lacking, not what you’re packing. Take it from a man that loves what you got. And baby girl you’re a star, don’t let them tell you you’re not.”
Imagine as a little girl seeing so many posters and movies and magazines and commercials with women as objects of attraction. And then you, as this little girl, think you need to do everything possible to look a certain way. Because that’s what boys want. That’s what everyone expects from you. And when you don’t look that way, you’re failing at your job. Or if you do look that way, you become defined by it. You must constantly maintain it, regardless of what nature dictates, regardless of how much gravity and time fight you. No one is really free from this; all women become slaves to this idea. And I can’t say it enough: it’s flat out duuuummmbb. It really sucks. As amazing as it is to be a woman, this is something we can really all do without. There are so many other real stressors in this world, and this particular one is simply unnecessary. If only we could be liberated from this pressure.
“We don’t look nothing like the people on the screen. You know, the movie stars, picture perfect beauty queens. But we got dreams and we got the right to chase them. Look at the nation, that’s a crooked smile braces couldn’t even straighten.”
Men, I invite you to get to know us. As we really are, with our fears and dreams and goals. It’s so beautiful what you’ll find when you search a little further than our faces and bodies. There’s a certain comfort that we feel when we sense that we are relieved of our assigned duty of pleasing the eye, and when we know that we don’t need to look a certain way to gain favor or to make people like us. And that’s so rare, it’s ridiculous how rare that comfort is. How can we not be judged by what you first see, by what everyone first sees? By our professors and peers and friends and bosses and family members and strangers in the street? Because guys, when you truly respect us and care about us, that’s love. I’m not talking about that love in the next stage in any romance in which both people say “I love you” and are struck by some sudden honeymoon phase, no sir. I’m talking about loving another human being for the sake of being in this crazy, confusing world together and just trying to figure out what the hell we need to do on any given day. Because really, girls are just like guys in so many ways. And what we really care about more than anything is to have someone, anyone, see us for who we really are, and respond to that. See us beyond our faces and bodies. In the good times, the bad times, and all the ugly times we will all have at one point or another. Welp, that’s all from me. Hope this helps! Until next time, Tati out.
“Now is it real? Eyebrows, fingernails, hair. Is it real? If it’s not, girl, you don’t care. ‘Cause what’s real is something that the eyes can’t see. That the hands can’t touch, that them broads can’t be. And that’s you. Never let ‘em see you frown. And if you need a friend to pick you up, I’ll be around. And we can ride with the windows down, the music loud. I can tell you ain’t laughed in a while but I wanna see that crooked smile”
- J. Cole
