As a child, I have a concept of what I want to be, and it wasn’t a lady. I liked Power Rangers more than Barbie, wore jeans everywhere, continued to climb trees and fight with boys until they suddenly had growth spurts and expanded to twice my size.
I was a source of vexation to my parents. They keep telling me that I should behave; that I should be a lady. How, I would ask, do I achieve that? They would provide me a list of do’s and don’ts that would make me a true woman.
This sets me thinking…what if I don’t want children? What if I want to be a journalist in war zones? Does that strip me off my status as a woman? Does that mean that I am a man, or something completely different?
Society has this concept about masculinity, femininity, and gender roles…like mass-produced clothes of the same size and style. It does not matter if they do not fit you. One’s own preference is of little consequence. People give us this pair of shoes, tell us to wear it, and like it. In this subject, at least, man and woman truly are equals.
I find this classification rather silly. Ever since the dawn of time, there has existed this taxonomy separating man from woman. There are so many differences in characteristics, expectations, and roles that I can’t help feeling that we are not of the same species.
Why do we have to be certain things? Wouldn’t it be better to be ourselves than to be a ‘man’ or a ‘woman’? After all, who’s to say that men can’t take care of babies and women can’t work? My uncle does perfectly well in raising his daughters. My mother is the most methodical worker I know. Why the labels, if we work better using shoes that fit?
Still, I see the charm of having this perfect image that we could aspire to be. Without it, most of us would not know what to do. The issue is not about having a certain view; it is more about forcing ourselves to be exactly like these ideals. For heavens’ sake, we are not perfect! We shall never be, no matter how hard we try, for the simple reason that we are human.
The image we have of the perfect man or woman is, for me, good when used as a handbook, not a prison. We are at heart a man, a woman, a child, and something greater we can’t hope to describe. Why should we strive only for one and disregard the rest, when all of them make us what we are now?