Sandra Gibbons

Sandra Gibbons

lives in beautiful Northwest Arkansas. She writes about parenthood, lessons learned, and creating moments of happiness.

Feminism

A beautiful woman is a practical poet, taming her savage mate, planting tenderness, hope and eloquence in all whom she approaches.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

I think I’ve known my problem all along.

But I somehow lost sight of it during the past 14 months. Well, not somehow—I know exactly what happened. I returned to the realm of Corporate America. I made my grand entrance as an exalted woman of independence once more. And it’s taken its toll. The five or six month break last year from the corporate jungle was truly a gift for me. I was happier and more carefree in my time away. I felt revitalized, like all possibilities in the world were displayed at my little feet. I had time to read up on politics and current events, my writing and artwork wasn’t as heavy-hearted or dark, and the time spent with my family was less hurried and anticipated. It was more meaningful, and I was liberated.

I even identified it back then—back in August 2012, and I wrote about it that October (see Quarter-Life Crisis, Part II) That was the whole premise of this blog to begin with: Sandra Gibbons—recovering independent woman, extraordinaire. I had already examined the folly of my so-called life of independence in Kansas City, and I had even shared with you my thoughts and opinions on the whole experience. I had even alluded to one day sharing my views on this whole feminism fiasco. And I certainly will.

It’s an identity crisis through and through. With turning 28 years old this July, I’m realizing more and more how hard it is to reverse the mainstream societal bullshit that’s been poisoning my mind all these years. Yes, it’s 2013, but I find myself struggling to assimilate to society’s definition of a productive and valuable woman of the times. There’s this growing notion that women should strive to be the breadwinners of the professional realm AND to be the centerpiece of the family unit and somehow keep it all together. I’m not buying it. I’m unhappy trying to imitate society’s definition of success and accomplishment, and it’s taken a huge toll on not only my self-esteem, but my perception of every last relationship in my life. Now that’s heavy.

Men and women are not equal. Each sex has its own set of weaknesses and strengths, and it’s futile to try and compare the two. Different wiring. Different equipment. Am I refuting women’s suffrage or their freedom to go out into the world and pursue whatever education or job they want? Most certainly not. My animosity is towards the ideologies of modern feminism. And I didn’t have to read some book or subscribe to some news channel to figure out my own opinion on it. I came to this by spending a great deal of time alone in reflection. Peering deep into my heart, I asked myself, “Who are you really?” Women, if I could pry your copy of Cosmo from your fingers, pull the plug on your reality shows, and disconnect you from envybook, I would urge you to open your eyes and see through the endless barrage of meaningless fluff that is distracting you. Our society is in crisis. Women don’t know how to be women anymore. Men don’t know how to be men.

We’re creating generations of hypersensitive, identity-lost men and women. And this will only beget more violence, more depression, and more superficiality.

More on this later.

Tuesday Night Thoughts In Frigidity

13 Months & Forever