domingo, 28 de janeiro de 2018

It’s feminism, what else?

Hello,
since yesterday I've been swimming in feminist connundrums. Or maybe just feminine doubts. I don't know, for me this seems to be a thin line that not only me but everyone seem to cross every now and then.

It started with this post \/ from an Instagram account I love.


Then, on Twitter, I found an article about how slave women and children were trained to please men on Ancient Greek. And today I read about the 'daddy stitch'.

Of course there are moments when every one - not only women - want something different. If you only get gentle love, you might want a good fuck and vice-versa. And this Insta account does have inspiring firing posts but yesterday this photo seemed wrong to me. Did I trip thinking it could be a girl being taught to ask for what a guy wanted and not what she liked?

Maybe because of this devilish logarithms that controls our lives - I do think Google already has a 'minority report' chip inside me - there came the Twitter link to the Ancient Greek's prostitutes... 

If you've been here in my blog before you know how I hate the romance novels law attesting that every woman must be conquered by a manly man who rapes her into love. It kills me. Men love and lust is not charity towards any woman, it cannot be.

But I do know real women who put up with small evil in their husbands for the sake of a comfortable life. Outdated urban legend? I wish...

That brings me to the astonishing 'daddy stitch'. Oh. My. God. I had no idea such a thing existed! What a monstrosity! The article I read said something like 'the post-partum body cannot be the end of a sexist joke'. Yes! When a woman is on her most vulnerable moment, exhausted and full of hormones, a child in her arms, tears and all, someone heartless devilishily prepares her to please her partner... It makes me want to cry.

Doesn't this sounds like something out of 'Mad men'? And no one - incuding me- wants me to begin venting on that TV show again. Right?

I had a c-section when my boy was born because of a surgery I hd had a few years before. My gynos (2 female doctors, my friends, both also pregnant at the time) didn't even consider natural birth afraid my uterus wouldn't endure the stress of labour. But I doubt they'd consider such a thing... Would they? 

I'm so shocked I considered asking them if such a thing exists here in Brazil. Instead, I talked to hubs and... Guess? He says it's a common thing, men talk about this. 'To be a girl again.' He said it's refered as that. Urgh! Such pigs!

I'm disgusted. Appalled. 

Time should be up to all these things, shouldn't it?

And this is not only done to please men, it's done to please the partner in spite of the woman because, obviously, she is an object. Fuck. Damn. Shit.

After spending time revising my first novel Friendship of a Special kind with care worrying if what those Darcy and Lizzy do could be done these days, and dreaming about loving balanced relationships, I wasn't ready to face this objectifying.

It hurts.
Right?