Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Refusal to comply

I don't have to fit in anyone's mold of what a woman should be.

So yeah, I swear a lot, make a lot of bad jokes, have a one-track mind, am a year younger than all my classmates, describe myself as feminist, enjoy the company of men and women alike, am fairly shameless, can't help laughing when people use pop-psychology on me, am cynical, don't believe in a hypothetical Prince Charming, don't WANT a Prince Charming because he'd be the most boring person on earth, lose my temper a lot, dislike getting overly emotional, think too much, try to get to the bottom of things, am called indifferent, cold, intimidating, refuse to let myself be used as a doormat, tend to take things with a shrug, move on fast-does all this make me anything less of a woman?

I don't think so. I don't feel so. But I'm told a girl shouldn't act like that.
I should be heartbroken at the end of my relationship.
Well I'm not.
I should only have sex with someone I love.
Well I won't.
I should keep my mouth shut and listen to people airing their inane opinions in silence.
I will not.
I should wear dresses all the time and look pretty at all times.
I'll dress for me. I wear my make-up for myself, and too bad if you deem it outrageous, or over the top for daytime, or too subdued for a party. I choose.
I shouldn't go out at night, shouldn't drink, shouldn't party, shouldn't have fun because who knows what may happen to me!
I'll take the risk.

I am original sin and life-giver at the same time, I tempt and wrong and create evil.
Once more : NO.

Seriously, no. All this is just plain wrong.

We're all stereotyped. I was given dolls, my brother was given cars. We were jointly given electric trains and a car track. We played farms together, played with my barbies and his Action Men, played Lego and built treehouses, played Pokemon when it first came out, I used to play ball or tag at recess, I refused to wear a skirt after the age of 5, refused point blank to wear anything I hadn't chosen for that matter, which drove my poor mother crazy, and spent my life the nose in a book from the moment I learned how to read at four, stealing the books my mother banned me from reading because I was too young for them (she might've been right about that-reading a biography of Henri 4 of France at 9 isn't quite normal, apparently).

But where's the fun in staying in the place you're given?I wanted those dolls. My family wouldn't have cared if I wanted cars, I always wanted books more than anything anyway. I still do. I love books.
So I was hard to define. Still am, I suppose. I don't dress in any particular way than what i find pretty. So what? Bookworm?yes. Feminine?yes. Strong-willed?yes. Nerdy?yes. A royal pain in the ass?Most definitely.
I just hate being put in a box. I'm this, so I should do that, or think that-no.

God, I'm totally out on medication so I'd better shut up now :D

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