Here's the deal. I don't believe I'm feminine. I do not have long hair, I do not really like makeup, although I'll wear it when needed, I am very outspoken, and I swear like a Filipino dock worker. In my mind, being feminine is none of the characteristics I possess. Being feminine, in my mind, is having long hair, a love of clothes and jewelry, perfectly manicured nails, an ability to hold your tongue, rarely swearing, and a tendency to always be aware of the needs of others above my own needs. And based on this definition, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most feminine, I am a maybe a 4 on the feminine scale (I do love shoes and getting my hair done, so I've got some of the qualifications).
What was missing in my evaluation of the group photo, though, were some very basic things. One, judging a woman based on a photo tells me nothing about that woman herself (who she is, her love of makeup, or her lack of swear words), and, two, is there really a definition of feminine or am I merely repeating societal cues I've picked up from movies, books, and repeated expectations of those who surround me?
I'll give an example. After I had a double mastecomy while going through treatment for breast cancer, I was in a great deal of pain. I could not sleep, was constantly pain challenged throughout the day, and was physically and emotionally exhausted. At that time in my life, I was also attending a support group. I don't know about you, but when I'm in a lot of pain, I tend to get angry. And when I get angry, I tend to swear so I was sharing in the group about my pain with an angry voice and quite a few swear words. Another woman in the group seemed to be having difficulty with that. In fact, she seemed to be having difficulty with my angry reaction in general. Every time I would speak, after I was done, she would make a sarcastic comment like, "Well, that was uplifting." Finally, after one session, I asked her to refrain from making comments after I had finished speaking. Her response? She emphatically told me to stop swearing. I bristled, I was so surprised by her lack of empathy and her request. I finally responded, "You know that I tend to swear when I'm sharing, so if you are uncomfortable with that, you are free to leave the room when I share."
Certainly, this has not been my only experience with others' discomfort with my expressions of anger and use of swear words. I do not swear at work, but I do feel free to use swear words in my private life. And I have definitely shown moments of controlled anger at work, a behavior I've seen many times from men in a professional setting. What is interesting is men and women's reaction to these moments of mine are often negative and chastising. And what is sad is that I have clearly internalized these reactions, going so far as to compare myself to other women's perceived femininity based on a photo. I am not a compliant Jane Eyre, accepting bad treatment from the man of the house, ignoring the existence of the crazy wife in the attic. I am more Elizabeth Bennet, speaking my mind, choosing my own love, living life based on my own values, and choosing companions based on who shows me respect and care.
While Elizabeth Bennet is well-loved in the literary world, would she have been well-loved in the real world of her time? Certainly, she was not as outward as I am in today's world, but she lived in a world of higher expectations of femininity. But, the fact that Elizabeth Bennet was so well loved as a literary character at a time in history that demanded total compliance from women tells me that feminine may have always been very many things.
So this is who I am as a feminine woman; kind, funny, outspoken, defender of justice, a lover of cool and colorful hairstyles, a woman with too many shoes, loyal, rough and tumble, a lover of a well-spoken swear words, soft in the center and tough on the outside, a friend of all furry creatures and many un-furry ones, a believer in my own life's value, near sighted but knows how to pick stylish glasses, and on and on and on. I'm sure if I ever met those women in that photo, I would find out that at least a few love swearing, a few climb mountains for the pure joy of it, others have children they've cradled throughout a long night of childhood sickness, and a few are quiet, less verbal, but still hold on hard to the values of their lives.
In the end, I need to stop judging books by their cover, and cherish the fact that being feminine is many, many things. It can contain a talent in changing a car tire, the ability to walk in 4-inch stilettos, being a damn good horse rider, a deft talent for sweeping hair up into a neat and elegant French chignon, and too many other things to count.
We are all feminine in our own way, there is no one definition of the feminine. What's more important is that I love the wonderful, sweet women around me for everything they have to offer, especially their acceptance and friendship. And I need to offer them the same in return, particularly my acceptance. So Facebook photos be damned. That was a group of bad-ass women in that photo, and I am hoping to learn more about them. Meanwhile, I'll be going back to Facebook, find that photo, and I will look at it again, knowing we all, me and them, are part of femininity. I just hope someone in the group likes to swear as much as a I do. And in that spirit, I say, talk to you later, you fucking incredible babes. Hold on to that wonderful feminine self, however it flows out of you.
Image courtesy of Little Literary at https://www.etsy.com/shop/LittleLiterary
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