Ladies, Let's Declare A Holiday from MEN!
Let me begin with this disclaimer. This Post is not for those of you who are/have been happily married/involved for 5/10/ 15/20 or more years. Hopefully, you have found the person of your dreams who makes your toes tingle, your palms sweat, and your bank account jingle. But more importantly, hopefully, you are equally yoked. You may read on with the assurance that this is not directed at you.
Nor, is this one of those man-hating maryjblige generated discussions (no offense mary, I have bought many of your cds and attended One of your concerts) where I spend 800 plus precious words engaging in male bashing (not a sport I am noted for…tennis is my game).
However, some events of the past few weeks have completely perplexed and disturbed me. And naturally, the writer in me needs to write about it. Perhaps I can act as the narrator did in those well known Shakespearean tales and provide you with the words/actions and you the audience can offer me some words of wisdom (via your comments) so that this state of perplexion (not a real word) will no longer cloud my horizon.
In all fairness, I must admit there was a period about 4 years ago when I absented myself from the day to day hubbub as a result of an ill-timed physical illness for well nigh a period of 8 mos. Perhaps, it was during that time that I missed the Bulletin/latebreakingnews/Memorandum/Email/Textmsg/Tweet that went out stating: It is okay for men to use women as receptacles for their garbage. Reader, there is another word I could substitute for garbage …shorter…more direct…begins with an "s", but I have taken the Blogger's oath that this will be a PG rated post..so I leave the semantics to you.
What is she talking about…what bulletin..everybody knows that women rule the world..hasn't she heard Beyonce's latest cd..Every since women's lib, y'all been wearing the pants..talking 'bout you can buy the bacon and come home and fry it up in a pan..I mean my daddy told me a long time ago..the woman chooses and the man…..
It all started when I decided to reread Zora Neale Hurston…Their Eyes Were Watching God while enjoying a blistering 100 degree afternoon at the beach. The black woman is de mule uh de world…Janie's grandmother laments…but Ah been prayin" fuh it tuh be different wid you. This line is by far one of the most often quoted lines from this well known literary work. It captures not only the frustration of Nanny, but echoes the frustration many women (all colors) have felt throughout the years (pre and post bra-burning). The irony of this is Their Eyes is a love story replete with all the romanticism, shared longing, sexual tension/quest for identity/self discovery/journey/cougar vs. young man/old man vs. young woman themes one could hope to find in a 1937 novel written by an anthropologist (one of her many titles).
What? What does this have to do with the receptacle/garbage thing? Patience reader..I'm getting there.
In the novel, Nanny arranges a marriage for Janie to the well-to-do Logan Killicks and his oft mentioned sixty acres. Janie soon realizes that she does not love the older Mr. Killicks with his long/flat head and dat pone uh fat back uh his neck…with the too big belly and his toe nails that look lak mule foots. She wants things sweet wid her marriage lak when you sit under a pear tree and think. Alas, Mr. Killicks never mentions nothing pretty.
Sherley Anne Williams opines in her Forward that Zora was unable to satisfactorily define herself in a continuing relationship with a man (did Zora tell her that?). And Janie's romantic vision and its ultimate fulfillment provided the plot of the novel. But in their desire and eventual insistence that their men accord them treatment due equals, they are one. On this, Ms. Williams, I can agree. Hence my state of confusion when I found myself the object of unequal treatment by a fellow human (who happened to be a man).
In my quest to understand the treatment that I received at the hands of this fellow human, I sought answers from a dear male friend….Why? Why am I being treated this way by someone I have offered my friendship/companionship/shoulder/to..especially after so many years.
It's all about selection my dear. The personae that we project to others must be the correct one if we are to expect to be treated fairly.
Hmm…I'm not sure that answered my question but perhaps he has something there. I mean, after all, we teach people how to treat us. I think I heard Dr. Phil say that one time. I'm no angel, but I did learn the golden rule and how to play fair on the playground. By nature, I am a lover of all things human and non-human. I seek balance. I seek harmony. I seek peace. I seek understanding. I (on occasion) seek love. So what did I do to incur this type of treatment, I ask?
Maybe, he's just frustrated and immature…you know men don't mature as fast as we do..even if they're ten years older than us.
Maybe, he was always like that and just never showed you that side of him.
Maybe, he has issues with women and this is how he deals with.
Maybe, he's going through male menopause…you know they have it too.
Maybe some other women treated him bad..you said he was married before..maybe he still hasn't got over that…and on and on this supposition went as I conferred with various women in the 50-60something bracket.
You still haven't told us what happened. All this talk about Zora neale and what your friends, said… blah, blah, blah..could you just get to the point.
As this is a PG rated post, I am not at liberty to repeat those words (from him) which sparked this state of confusion within me. However, prior to the utterance of those words (by him) there was some discussion about the latest ny times best seller shades of gray (which I have not read) and the fact that it is getting so much press (probably because it is soft porn that can be found on the library shelves). That led to a discussion (by him) about the repressed nature of women. And I being a woman was included in those numbers. And that what I really needed to do was to unrepress (not a word) myself and commit some shades of gray acts with him. Which of course would lead me to a state of pure ecstacy, eyeball rolling pleasure, mind numbing, uncontrollable joy, and by the way, cure once and for all that darn insomnia!
How dare he? I mean what makes him think just because he is a man, I want to be the object of his desire? We are friends. I have always considered him a friend and Nothing more. We talk for hours on the phone. Sharing tidbits of our day, our interests, our likes, our dislikes, latest politics, local gossip. You name it.. the friend thang. Usually reserved for female to female, but in his case (and several others like him) a male friend. Purely Platonic.
Girl, what's the problem? The man came on to you. He's just being a man…that's what they do..you know most of them are bow wows…why are you so offended? At your age, you should be glad somebody is giving you some play. Get over it.
No, Reader, I will not get over it. I am offended. I am offended that someone I shared many hours conversing with has reduced me to an act. I am offended that someone I entrusted with my secrets/hopes/fears/dreams would reduce me to an act. I am offended that someone I thought viewed me as an equal/an intellectual sparring partner/ a fellow entrepreneur/creative thinker/spirited member of the world would reduce me to an act.
I am a woman, like Zora Neale, who insists that men accord me treatment due their equals.
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