Trace the link between feminism and relationships from outdated norms to modern conventions including chivalry, working mothers, splitting the bill and beyond.
First thing first, I am NOT claiming, by any means, to be a domestic violence victim, survivor, professional, etc. I feel like I'm constantly in a whirlpool. Either spinning out of control on the outer edge or drowning when getting sucked down to the center. This is simply a part of my life story that is weighing me down so I wanted to dispel it with purpose. I would rather get this off my chest in a constructive way to avoid me doing something I regret.
It’s crazy to look over at the man you once loved, and know that he’s about to kill you. To think of how many times you’ve laid there at night, sleeping, while he watches over you and plots your demise. I wish this was the first, and pray to the Gods that it’s the last time I’m ever within an inch my life, from this crazy repeat cycle of endless battery and relentless savagery. They say that it must be what I want, that I choose these monsters, or that I bring it out in them. Maybe it’s my own demons haunting me, possessing every poor soul that ever gets comfortable enough to stay. Maybe.
Red flags... I don't know about you, but I'm real quick to notice them when they pop up in my friends' relationships. He doesn't let you hang with his friends? Red flag! He won't let you look at his phone? Red flag! He wants a joint Facebook account? Red Flag! What I'm not great at, is seeing them in my own relationships. Or perhaps I see them and just choose to ignore them. Perhaps I write them off as a byproduct of my own anxiety-induced paranoia. When you're anxious and depressed, that can be easy to do.
As the game of life transcends into multidimensional facets; the rises and falls of my relational realms shifted yet again. The first glance of Farzin remained an encapsulation of years of longing arms wrapped in a demure smile. It was the beginning of December in 2019 and at that trivial time; I was taking care of my dad due to his recent stroke sand the dissolution of his restaurant. At the time, I was residing at the house with my dad and Farzin rented the extra room; (my old room) to be exact.
Why Do We Shave? Ever since I started growing hair anywhere other than my head, I've been shaving it off, or waxing it off, creaming it off, threading it off, basically trying anything that would keep those nasty hairs away. I bloomed early so my razor journey started when I was around eleven. I didn't understand why I felt this need to get rid of the hair, it was instinctual. Of course now I understand that it mostly had to do with the fact that I had access to a television. Every Saturday when I sat down to my cartoons on Milkshake, Channel 5, the advert breaks would bring with them countless beautiful women gliding pink razors up their legs and then stroking their perfect, blemish and cellulite free legs, ohing and ahing at the silky smoothness. So, it was obvious that female hair, unless growing luxuriously atop your head and flowing down ones back in a seductive manner, just wasn't meant to be there.
I have always believed that words are powerful. That we speak our lives into the existence we live. So, you must be careful what you say.
That night nov 18, 2017, I was sleeping when “Mr. Walking Hard On” needed to get laid. I must’ve not been cooperative as balled fists filled with who knows what emotion came flying at my face as a my wake up call.
I remember being around 14 years old, in a "fight" with some friends and saying to my mom, "Who needs friends anyway?" She laughed at me and said "Girl, every woman needs a good group of girlfriends. You'll see." At 38 years old, that was probably the truest thing I've been told. I have always been what you could call a "serial friend audition-er"; meaning anyone could get a shot, but the likelihood of survival was slim. My personality is complex and thus requires connections with simple but varying personalities that share, well, anything in common with one of the people living in my head.
It’s easy to get caught up in the magic and nostalgia of old-fashioned fairytales without considering what underlying messages they may convey. Of course parents aren’t telling their kids stories with the intention of giving them an unhealthy idea of relationships. Regardless, this may be what is happening. There is a stereotype of women getting into relationships with toxic men in the hopes of “fixing” them. Many of us saw a great example of this shortly after the release of the film Joker (2019) in the form of a meme, a tweet by @TamiDaBushPilot that read “*watching the Joker movie* (under breath) …I could fix him”. Just like most stereotypes, this was derived from a real-life pattern. This begs the question of just why so many women find themselves drawn to troubled men. For the purposes of this article, we’ll stick with the example of a heterosexual relationship wherein the woman wants to “fix” the man, simply because that’s what the stereotype commonly refers to.
Finding a potential mate in life is quite frankly a blisteringly daunting task for anyone, it was in the past, still is today, and more likely than not it will be for the foreseeable future, unfortunately. Though I would like to take a moment to example some clearly s***ty reasons why some people need to always be left alone. This refers to the narcissists, wallowers, drama seekers, etc. Now in some cases, I agree that it is unmerited because the dator is really worthy of a great datee especially if both are willing to put in the time and work to make something of the connection experienced. However, more often than not those who are getting left in the dust aren’t as date-worthy as they think they are. In my opinion of course. Feel free to agree to disagree but here is some food for thought.
A kiss used to mean something to me. This time last year, I had only ever kissed three people. I say I kissed them because I was a happy, active participant. I can't count the men who have kissed me that way anymore, and while that slight change in language could probably be easily overlooked, that realization hurts me more than I can explain.
At first you're afraid of being alone. Maybe you came from a home that felt more like a battleground; where you were equal measures 'spoil of battle' and 'prisoner of war'. Maybe you heard one too many backhanded compliments as you became a woman.