"Feminism"

I am going to get down on the ground for a minute here, and talk openly about my thoughts and struggles with "feminism", and my purpose and power, "as a woman". 

Firstly, let me start out by explaining my use of quotation marks. "Feminism" is in quotations because I am not sure what it actually means, only the abrasive nature and the implicitly simultaneous victimization and heroism it exudes when a PERSON decides to define both their struggles and triumphs based on one facet of their existence. Gender, race, sexual orientation- whatever.

Please understand that my aim here is to understand my feminist counterparts. It is difficult to get behind something you don't have a precise understanding of, but I certainly don't want to condemn it for that reason either. Please also understand that the way I walk thru life, generally, is to treat people as I would want them to treat me. This is painstakingly difficult to do sometimes. At least it has been for me. I have learned that it is called "golden" and a "rule" for a reason- it isn't always easy, but it is what must be done, for the highest and best good of if not everyone, then at the very least, for yourself. All in all, I've found that it works out. When it doesn't, I've had to ask some very hard questions, usually to myself. Asking these questions are the catalysts for a strength that has allowed me to handle my own scale of difficult situations. The test of ones character is what builds just that- Character. 

I have a hard time identifying with the feminist ideology, or culture, or whatever it exactly IS, exactly, because it doesn't implicitly explain  who a woman is, or how she treats others, or even herself. It only states that "A feminist" is a woman, who believes in women, and their equal and right treatment and greater good. A woman that demonstrates this belief in an air of confidence and perseverance that commands respect. 

Sounds pretty good. Definitely not satan worship. Good intentions are certainly obvious. 

However.

Yes, however. 

And here is the hard question I have been grappling with-

In a nation of beautifully determined and spirited soul sisters, why should that be the reason "we"- as PEOPLE- not women- are deserving of success and human decency? 

Does feminism exist in order to define A Woman and their worthiness of womanhood? Or their humanity? What is the prime directive of feminism precisely?

Women, at least in the western world, (which is obviously not the only place in the world) have done truly incredible work. Our foremothers most notably. There was a time which none of us know first hand, when I would be condemned for even speaking as I am, which is just simply, honestly. Perhaps even women would look down upon me. No, we aren't "there" yet, but more women are graduating from college than men than ever before, women are testing their entrepreneurial powers, and owning their bodies and sexual freedom in all of it's beautiful goodness.  

But what else?

There is a striving for women to "have it all". Women want to be educated, to have a career, to be a mom, and still have time for sex.

And if a woman wants to do it alone (minus the sex part, of course ;) although...) then more power to her. Literally. Because she will need it.

There are only 24 hours in a day. If women work 8-10 hours a day, and also have children, who, if they are any sort of parent, will want and BE a present force in their child's life, then that is another few hours in the morning and evening of making dinner, giving baths, brushing teeth, maybe reading a story, and putting to bed. Perhaps maybe that woman will get a full eight hours of sleep until it's time to repeat the routine. Perhaps not. Perhaps she doesn't have children, because it's late and her fertility isn't as strong as it was at one time. Perhaps she is trying desperately and maybe taking other measures to make her dreams of motherhood come to fruition, like in vitro fertilization, or considering adoption. These are all hard choices, and harsh realities of "having it all". And while I am truly proud of such astonishing determination, I am still concerned for women. Not just for the way they are treated, but for how they treat themselves. Are we stretching ourselves too thin? Is it so defeatist and unspeakable to question whether or not there might be a certain amount of voluntary responsibility that may not be impossible, but unhealthy, and ironically self-sacrificial?

I am still concerned for the children we will raise. What will our daughters aspire to? What will our sons aspire to? What will they say to each other when they discover their anatomical differences? Will it matter? Does it matter? What will you say to them?

How can men and women ever cross the historical gender specific boundaries that are practically evolutionary at this point, without meeting each other half-way? Without accepting our most primal truth: that men and women simply are NOT the same. Both are human, capable of all things human. Our chemical makeup, our very brains are biologically un-identical. This is neither negative, nor positive. They are fact. What makes the experience of womanhood, manhood, and humanity a positive or negative one, is how those experiences interact with one another, and how they interact with themselves. Without letting go of pride, and taking hold of our differences, embracing compassion and understanding, how can we, humans, ever hope to come to a truly harmonious, unified existence? 

"I am a hopeful romantic." 

This is what an old boyfriend of mine told me, very early on, when we were still in an emotionally charged friendship, and not in an intermittently charged-in-every-way-possible to drained-in-every-way-possible relationship.

How I remember these words as though they were said yesterday. 

Ironically,  however, we are often capable of accepting a reality so far off the mark of "romantic", that what grew from a place of beauty and innocence-inherently FULL of hope, can quickly and easily become hopeless. 

The balance of reality with fantasy, romance with practicality is not an easy thing to master. Too often, we are scorned once and go on to carry the venom of the bite in our veins for far too long, tethering ourselves to a lasting pain and an eventual numbing down of our true soulful potential. I have seen my own steel-toed footprints walking at varying speeds in this grave direction myself over the years. It took a particularly long march for me to reach a mark that urged me to re-assess my chosen spiritual and emotional route. Only I hadn't realized until that point- which wasn't too long ago- that I had made that choice long before I knew I ever had one. I assumed that all misfortune, pain, and heartbreak, had happened TO me. I knew I wasn't the only one, but I never took responsibility for the conjecture my life was taking. 

This is because I sincerely didn't realize I had that power. Or that freedom. I like that word better, because thats more of what its about; finally taking the wheel after years of watching people and places pass by too quickly, or never going down that road that you always wanted to go down because it's heavily wooded, brightly lit, or just because there's just something about it, and finally  making the turn necessary to go down into it. Understanding that yes, life is hard, and bad things might have already happened that never should have, but they did, and here you are, still breathing, still standing, still living to see another day when you could make this day the day that all others could have been and should have been had you known you were the one that could have made them that way. Which brings us full-circle, and even allows us to appreciate all of those miserable times, for without them, you may never have reached this wondrous, powerful shift in your souler universe. 

I drove home from my boyfriend's tonight- NOT the "I'm a hopeful romantic" boyfriend, who is an ex boyfriend- but my current boyfriend's- who is still surprising me with both his other worldly sweetness and earthly dedication. I drove home from his house begrudgingly, as I wasn't ready to go home, even though I knew I would be greeted by the most loving and lovable   (and hungry) cat in the world, I just knew I would miss the company of my boyfriend, whose friendship is steadily growing in its value and depth. A funny thing happened on my drive home, though. Funny, odd, bittersweet, a bit sad, but more relieving. 

That funny thing is that I reached a red light, and something about the dark night, and the subtle tones of a Mariah Carey cd I'd had in my cd player playing in the background permeated my heart, and I suddenly started to cry. I cried a few soft tears at this light, turned up the MC, and then I cried some more as I shifted into first gear and hopped forward thru a couple more lights, now crying a bit harder. By the time I got to the next red light, I was really crying. The kind that exhaust you when you're finally thru, and you know its what you needed.

By the time I got home I realized, I'm finally ready to redefine the words my ex boyfriend said to me so long ago, words that it's taken me basically until today to understand were simply void of the wisdom and appreciation it takes to both be hopeful, and romantic. And to realize that those words are nothing without the trust in oneself as well as each other, to back them up.

The venom is finally gone, in this respect. 

And to honor the time and incredible energy it has taken to reach this moment so surprisingly, I will steadily strip my heart of all of its safety nets and barbed wire fences, and let someone else show me what love really means to them, but more importantly, what it means to me. 

“Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses.”- Lao Tzu

We all have at least one moment in life when we experience- on a much larger scale- the infantile discovery that sticking our hand in the fire means we ultimately get burned. And from that moment on, we know not to touch it. We no longer feel the desire to touch it and we also have the sense not to. But until this moment, we all function as children do- we will fearlessly pursue anything we want, until we’ve learned to do otherwise. After this lesson is learned, it isn’t as if we suddenly desire what is right for us or even KNOW what is right for us… but our mind has now developed the ability to keep us out of trouble, to protect us. And then, the grueling decision- making process begins.

No matter what, we all have to make decisions. Sometimes they’re ones we can be proud of, and sometimes they’re ones we wish we had made differently, or maybe even are ashamed of. Sometimes we’re so passive about making decisions at all that they’re eventually made for us, and then we wonder…

“How did I get here?”

We are all aware of the nearly ancient saying, “Follow your heart, and you’ll never go wrong.” It’s so romantic and comforting to know our entire lives can be orchestrated by this essential life-organ; that as long as we steer ourselves in the direction of our feelings, that we don’t need to have any regrets, even if things don’t go as planned, because at least we made an effort to attain happiness in the most personal and innately human way possible.

But I suspect that the person who spoke these beautifully soulful words may have A) suffered unnecessarily, and maybe even greatly from the ignorance of their mind. Or B) simply acquired the ability to sync up both heart and mind, to the point of never (or almost never) having to face a decision of agonizing contemplation that could possibly lead to their soulless demise. If that is, in fact, possible. I’m open to comments/thoughts/experiences on this matter… Is it possible to put the two in sync, or is it a balancing act, a matter of prioritizing and evaluation of a situation? Does following one instead of the other make you more mature or less mature? Selfish or Unselfish?

Perhaps the most baffling realization a person can come to is that our hearts and minds are not mutually exclusive, and are more often than not (in my own experience) competing with the other. And more than that- that it is crucial to know at what times and places it is beneficial to obey one or the other. This matter alone has accounted for 90% of the damage done to my own life in the last couple of years, and I only now recognize that something must be done- that I MUST learn to evaluate whether to obey my heart or mind in any given situation, with my own health and happiness in mind- as well as those I care about...Because often times, when making a decision in which we discount either the heart or the mind, it can be a destructive one, not only personally, but to those who care about us most. But, that’s a whole other story for another time and I’ll dedicate more time and thought to that soon enough.

So I digress… wouldn’t life be so much easier if we could find a way for our hearts and minds to work together so that we aren’t constantly feeling one thing and thinking another? I know I personally can feel utterly torn and indecisive in regards to following my heart or my mind in even the most insignificant or mundane situations. I recall my former boyfriend asking me on many occasions when on the brink of splitting up, a very simple question:

“What do you want?”

And I could never answer it, because what I wanted, I could feel my heart aching for, but what I needed, I could hear my brain demanding of me.

It was a matter of which course of action I was going to take, the ultimate battle between heart and mind, rational and irrational.

I chose to follow my heart, ignoring my mind, and then pretty soon, my heart didn’t feel anything at all.

I ignored my instinct, which I now believe, lives in the mind. My heart knew what it wanted, and my mind and protector objected- I was afraid, and my mind had its reasons, but I ignored them and instead made many vicious attempts to rationalize what I felt.

I thought that this would bring me peace, and that my mind was wrong to tell me that I should ignore my desires.

Of course, had I listened, I wouldn’t be feeling nearly so empty.

This, of course, was a lesson I was going to learn no matter what, and I chose to learn it the hard way.

One thing is certain, I will never see the heart as the only vessel to love and happiness ever again. I may never get over seeing my life as a romantic comedy and I’ll always strive for the love you hear about in the greatest love songs. But the mind, though analytical and logical, is a warm, caring place, and we spend our lives cultivating its endless and magnificent possibilities. This, in its own way, is breath-takingly romantic.

There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.

 

A few months ago, after some prolonged curiosity and encouragement from friends that it seemed as though it may be of some interest to me, I began reading some introductory Buddhist teachings. Much of it did, indeed, speak to me in ways I found wholly attainable spiritually, mentally, and physically, and as long as I continued reading them and stayed mindful of my own capacity for compassion, I found that conflicts were easier to see through, and that straying from meditation led me to strong afflictions both spiritually and emotionally.

 
Over the years, it’s become The Chelsea Brown Way to embark on new projects and spiritual journeys the second I’m in the throws of what I perceive to be catastrophe… That, and cutting my hair. I chose to finally read about Buddhism during this time, and as soon as this matter was resolved, I retired any active practice of it. There has always been an element of genuine longing and desire to accomplish my new endeavors. But in the back of my mind, I have usually always known that it is a circumstantial enthusiasm, that to a degree it puts me to shame that I only set out for high ambitions when someone or something else is making me feel as if I have something I need to prove, and that I inevitably- after the adrenaline winds down- will give up, or slowly let it fade away.

I spoke to a friend earlier, and I explained to them how important I think it is for me to know I can be alone and not fall to pieces. They later asked, “Do you really think you can do that?” And for a moment my heart jumped, because that is exactly the question I am trying to answer for myself. I won’t know until I do, but I won’t do it until I know I can. So I said, “Yeah, I can… Everyone else does, why can’t I?” To which they corrected me: “Not everyone.”  And this is certainly true. “Yes, but people do. I want to be one of those people.” This leads me to my point (which I’m sure many of you are wishing I’d just get to already) … I find myself saying how much I want to do things all too often, assuming that I lack what many others seem to have when they speak actively and live actively. It’s extremely important for anyone that’s in a transformational period of life to be active and think actively, and to shed any doubt (that is likely the skin you developed from the period you’re crossing over from) in order to do that. My issue isn’t with getting started on things; it’s with maintaining them. This is a Eureka! Moment for me because I think almost anyone who knows me even remotely well knows how I never finish anything, I move all over the place (literally), and I am generally impulsive and antsy- though I carry myself with a mild temperament. It is against my wishes to be so scatter-brained, as all I really want is to feel just once that I have stood some place from start to finish, that I’ve endured. It’s easy to begin when you’ve got so much that’s driving you and nothing to lose, but quite another to sustain interest and confidence, to find continuous inspiration, and to keep momentum when you reach a big hill. Therein lies the challenge, and that is exactly what I’m in for right now.

The only chance I have at succeeding with being alone and happy, is to prove –to myself- by building a framework of a life I’d like to live, and then, little by little (I also tend to fail because I bombard myself with projects and favor instant gratification) filling it in with things that fit harmoniously inside it- like arranging the furniture in your dream house, that there is good reason to be. And that reason is very simply, just because I CAN.

"I restore myself when I'm alone"- Marilyn Monroe

I don't know about everyone else, but I find that going through a break-up is quite possibly the most daunting and most encouraging time in life, especially when it's a very long and tumultuous relationship you're stepping out of. This past week I've woken up and said to myself one of two things, "I'm going to make a nice breakfast, take a hot shower, and see where the day takes me." or, "I'm going to sit here all day and attach myself to either my bed or the living room chair." The former, of course, is on the days when I'm feeling particularly spunky, and the latter, when I'm feeling particularly brooding and depressed.

Most of my family and friends, having seen me through my other two previous attempts at ending said relationship, are familiar with my ups and downs, and with the cycle I've repeatedly submitted myself to. I could hear in their voices and sense in their words when I told them that I had ended the relationship again, the hesitance they felt in accepting that THIS IS ACTUALLY IT. It's been a couple weeks, and so I'm still, historically, that is, not quite past the stage of Oh-God-This-Is-Too-Hard-And-I-Want-Him-Back. But, I will say for myself that the way I'm handling it now has a much different quality about it than it has in the past, a clean feeling, like a precise cut to flesh. (Sorry if this makes you cringe... these are the things I envision) I don't find myself "needing" anymore, or feeling helpless- and if I ever do, I can easily chalk it up to something I am not fulfilling for myself, rather than assuming that someone else could close that gap for me. And then it becomes easier, because I know that I'm the only one with the answer.
Again, what a plain idea! But, sometimes common sense really isn't so common.

So I've been on a quest to appreciate the things I alone am capable of, no matter how simple. Reorganizing/ redecorating my room, running with friends, enjoying a cup of coffee and a good book, brainstorming some new projects, and taking up the whole bed when I sleep. Embracing my personal freedom- beautiful, exciting, and overwhelming at once.

All of it makes me feel like there's nothing left to be afraid of.

Ya just can't run from the funnel of love... It's gonna get ya someday.

How to begin a blog about relationships.... I suppose this is a bit of a stretch for a 22 year old lady who has not only- in the grander scheme of things- next to no experience with relationships, but has managed to get herself into some of the worst relationships possible. Ah, to be young and naive! Here is where I will put down the things I have repeatedly denied to myself about my own needs in a relationship, where others can hopefully share some of their own experiences and feedback to my own, and where I will learn to know myself outside of relationship.

A good friend of mine whom I had fallen out of contact with for almost a year, but have since reconnected with told me sometime ago when I was going through a breakup (which, i might add, didn't stick, and is now the same breakup I am going through at present) that I should consider one day writing a book on dating because I've dated so many different kinds of people, noticing that I seemed to be rather aimless when it came to who I lent my time and affection to. I wasn't sure whether this was a compliment, or a bit insulting. But either way, it got me thinking about where I seem to fit in this alarmingly ginormous world full of people all longing for the same things- love and acceptance- and how, where, and whom I was choosing to direct my energies. Now that I articulate it, it seems like such a plain idea that any sane person would at least attempt to be aware of, but I will honestly say I am just now realizing it's importance.

I had initially shrugged off the idea of voluntarily plastering my own romantic experiences somewhere all of cyberspace could see how clueless I was. I have a hard enough time admitting things to myself, let alone friends, family, and even strangers.  MISTAKE NUMBER ONE... Not that people need to know every gory detail, but it can become so easy to fall out of sync with yourself for the sake of love when no one is there outside of it to look after you now and then! This is what friends are for, and even acquaintances, if you're able to keep an open mind and withstand a little judgement.

So this blog is dedicated to me, and my mindless, but fully heartfelt excursions into what Ms. Wanda Jackson likes to call "The Funnel Of Love". I hope that it will keep me in tune with my heart as much as my mind, and that those near to me, as well as those not so near, will find ways of relating to that universal and deceptively complicated thing we call love- for thyself, and others.

I shall conclude this first entry from the inspiration in all her glory. A song I come back to time after time, and feel more and more in tune with (no pun intended) the more I hear it.