Let me just start out by stating that I firmly believe in the equality of the sexes. I have spent almost half of my life working in the restaurant industry, which (let’s face it) is more grab-ass than the first season of Mad Men. I have always fought the good fight in demanding that my male counterparts not refer to me as baby, hon, sweetie or sugar tits. I hereby, formally acknowledge that it can be tough for a woman to garner the respect of her macho piers and that the battle for that respect should not be abandoned.
Yet, there are certain advantages to being a woman that I also will not willingly relinquish. I say YES to a man who not only wants to hold the door open for me but who goes out of his way to do so. Call me silly, but I do not see this act as an assault on my womanly strength. I do not think that the men who do so are implying that our frail little hands are not capable of opening said doors. If anything: I see it as their way of elevating us, of putting us on a pedestal even. Who doesn’t like a pedestal? Just ask the 4th place winners of any Olympics. Oh, that’s right, they don’t make pedestals for fourth place.
In Womans’ quest to be recognized as equals, it seems as though we are losing something with every win. This seems counter-intuitive and leaves me begging the question “Why can’t it be win-win?”. I don’t see why femininity is traded like a commodity in order to climb one more rung in the battle of the sexes.
Case in point: Female Comediennes. We get it. You have “lady parts”. I’m not a prude, I do not don a weird white paper like bonnet and churn butter. I appreciate a dirty joke. I really do! It’s just that something has happened to the voice of female humor in the past decade or so, where a comedic and identifiable female voice has been replaced with d*** and fart jokes. Not only are these crass attempts usually not funny but they also come across as desperate. Why have we as women become so desperate to become men? Food for thought: being equal is not the same as becoming that of the opposite sex. Men are idiotic in their proclivity at laughing at bodily functions and sounds. I suggest that we just let the groin scratchers and originators of the “pull my finger” jokes have this topic while we ponder more witty content.
Let’s compare apples to oranges! If we Women are the apple in this scenario, (which we are because I’m the one writing it) we are just naturally better by comparison. You might prefer oranges to apples but that is beside the point for this exercize. With apples, you get so much more variety. Some are tall and on the slender side, they start off sweet and then turn in to bland mush as you work your way to the core. Some are fat and sour but can work wonders with a recipe that their more slender counterparts fall flat in acheiving. Some are sweet and tart and just when you’ve taken the most sour bite, they surprise you with yet another layer of unexpected sweetness. Oranges are great too but there’s really no element of surprise. It’s either good or it isn’t. I’m not saying that I don’t love men, err..oranges. I’m just saying that as women, we can be the best apple of the bunch without trying to become an orange. An orange a day doesn’t keep the Dr. away and giving an orange to a teacher isn’t common practice, so this train of thought makes sense. My wine is made of grapes…which falls in to the fruit family, so yes, this still makes sense!
I have been in a (mostly) loving and very comitted relationship with the nicest man for the better part of eight years. Through the years, we have both financially tipped the scales. At times, I have been the bread-winner and at times he has. Sometimes, the responsibility of purchasing the groceries and paying the bulk of the bills has fallen on me and sometimes it has fallen on him. In the times that the scales have disproportionately dipped, I have not felt the need to “act more like a dude” when I was the main provider, nor has he “femmed it up” to counteract my breadwinner status. Likewise and currently, he as the breadwinner does not crash through the door like a caveman expecting his “little woman” to bring him meat.
Sometimes, the tables just turn. Sometimes they do. I don’t believe and hope that the voice of a true feminist is not one that would take advantage of the fact that “the man” is dependent on the woman. The truth to me is that it’s nice to know you can have a partner that celebrates your achievements and doesn’t gloat over your failings. That, to me, is the true mark of equality. In my womanly power, I will “let you” hold that door open for me. Goddamnit, I spent two hours applying make-up and putting this outfit together! Straight men only wish that they had the power of concealer and spanx!
I will let my man buy/make me a steak dinner and I have no qualms in returning the favor. I will fold my napkin gracefully in my lap and gently dab au jus from the corner of my lips. I will take tiny bites as he shovels red meat in to his mouth, not because I’m trying to be dainty but because I’m a woman and as such, I’m (thankfully) gifted with the ability of savoring a meal as opposed to inhaling it.
Carol Burnett is my all time favorite of female comediennes. She kept it classy while contorting her face and rocking one of a kind Bob Mackie designs. Bob Mackie designed for her and Barbie! Sure, other people bought his designs but what speaks to me, is that at the height of his fame, these two very different worlds collided. What that taught me is that it is possible for a woman to be funny as Hell and yet never try to mask the fact that she is, indeed, a woman.
This is what I know: I love to make people laugh, I love the color pink. I do not think that these two things should have to cancel each other out. I would not want to live in a world where the spelling of Woman is changed to WeMen. We’re not and I like that.