Chickenheads.

I got frustrated last night.  I was watching a TV show and one of the main female characters was having quite the hard time with the other male characters on the show.  Bless her heart.  She started to tear up, bite her lip and then the show proceeded to portray her as the sensitive woman she truly is.  The woman that can’t seem to hold back the tears at work when a man is inappropriate or hurts her feelings.  A woman that though she went to law school and works for a very (fictitious yet) powerful law firm can’t manage to keep her emotions in check. 

This annoys me.  And I get it, I’m not your average female.  I get that.  I like maps, numbers and quantum physics.  Yet miraculously I manage to do all this while securely carrying ovaries inside my body on a day-to-day basis.  I nurture my ovaries; I love my ovaries.  And yet even in the presence of all this estrogen I manage to keep a straight face while those around me are freaking out.  I think before I blurt out something utterly irrational.  And I do not make important decisions based off of emotions.  I’ve even strongly considered the fact that it very well might be impossible for me to have a feeling without first mulling it over.  Meaning, when faced with something that exerts my emotional energy, my fallback is to head straight towards what would be considered rational thought and reason.  And yes let’s be clear, all that I include within the realm of rational thought and reason might be more inclusive than the next person and vice versa.  However, let it also be clear the point I’m making: I do not live from a place of emotion, being tugged from tide to tide.  Yet I’m incredibly sensitive.  I nurture and I love to a depth that at one time, I doubted was ever possible.

So I resent when women are consistently portrayed as mouthy balls of emotion.  Granted, I know many, and I mean many women are utterly emotional, nagging and complaining and pleading for this or that.  But we aren’t all like that.  Nor do we fall into the seemingly only other female archetype alternative: the power hungry bitch.   So why oh why must I continually see displays of females being characterized as ones that can’t seem to control their emotions.

Don’t get me wrong, emotions are beautiful and absolutely vital for a healthy life.  And alongside that, the average man and woman would be far better off if we did shed tears more often than we do - In comparison to bottling everything inside desperately trying to convince ourselves that “we’re fine, no really we’re fine.” 

We aren’t fine.  Often times we’re stressed and possibly sad and really need a hug.  And to deny that is to stunt our own growth, thus really only hurting ourselves further.  Tears can be an extremely healthy reaction to life’s circumstances.  That said, I just wish all the ladies on TV could manage to hold it together long enough to clock out of work, maybe make small talk with coworkers, and then head home.   And then maybe when they get home and the time is right, they ponder a bit and then cry if they need to. 

But where’s the fun in that?  Don’t all women enjoy yelling at their significant others about “why don’t you this?” “why don’t you that?”  “you don’t ever do such and such”.   I mean from the looks of it that’s all we do.  We spend our time bitching about needing babies and not being loved enough.  And I take great issue with that presentation of the female being.   Both genders have far too much to offer to limit one into being solely ______ or solely _______.  To say that the woman is the most tender and the man most unruly is ridiculous.  And maybe some are but not all.  And it’s the part about “all” that I take offense to.  Well shit, let’s be truthful, I just take offense to it in general.

And I realize, with concern, that my tone might come across as gruff or bitter.  And I’m neither.  I think that’s the whole point to all of this.  A woman does not have to fall within one of two categories: the biological time bomb or the mega-bitch I’m-gonna-beat-a-man.  Because really, for me I’ve found the place of strength is somewhere in the middle.  To the core of my being, I love.  I see people, and I love people.  And when and if I love you, I will love you with a love that contains a loyalty that startles even me sometimes.  I love.  And on the flip side of that I’m strong.  I’m fond of most of my thoughts and I’m intentionally conscious about the thoughts that I do think.  I don’t take shit from people unless I’ve made a conscious decision to do so.  And usually even then it comes from a place of wanting to be a person that loves people even when it’s messy. 

So all this makes me want to write to the powers that be and explain to them that yes, some women have entirely too much estrogen and something should really be done about that.  I get it and totally agree.  Maybe if we didn’t pump four-breasted chickens with so many hormones that they begin to manifest unfertilized eggs from their eyeballs, this might not be as much of a problem.  But here we sit, with rabid chickens and people who watch The Bachelorette.  And I’m left to sift through the channels hoping that at some point it will all evolve.  People will start crying when it’s important to cry and emotions will be used as tools and not devices. 

This could all be far more beautiful than it is.  And I guess I know that too.  With each display of a degraded man or an objectified female, I can’t help but cringe in my gut to think, really?  
This is the life we’ve created?  With what we’ve been given, this is it?   
This is what we’ve done?