A couple of days back, I spent roughly around 8 hours talking to a girl friend about the woes of being an intelligent, thinking female at this day and age. To most, we would clearly come off as waxing lyrical depression as this surely is in no way a problem. To be certain, plenty of people would give an arm and a leg to be able to complain about the same.
To begin, we mulled over how few people share our avid love for art and culture. Because of this, so little opportunities and outlets are available to those who do. This constant need to nourish our brain and soul then becomes a reason for mockery, instead of praise. The line separating us from those who cannot and do not enjoy our interests thickens and divides until between us stands a gulf impossible to bridge.
Already, and so early on in the conversation, we find ourselves facing a catch-22. To avoid conflict, we either forgo the things that nourish us and submit ourselves to live banal, empty existences as sheep in the herd, counting off each agonizingly slow day as we lose ourselves completely, or we stand our ground and wait to be condemned and/ or ostracized by our peers.
This paved the way into talking about how, for most women, independence meant isolation. You either chose to celebrate or love yourself alone, or you modify yourself to suit someone else's idea of how you should be. Jewel suddenly mentioned how she acts the bimbo and is therefore suffering because of it. No one takes her seriously because of the way she presents herself -- however, she'd take this over the nagging fear of being alone any day. But after countless relationships wherein she compromised herself and her ideals to fit into this two-dimensional image of women still very present in our supposedly progressive and forward world, she's sick and tired of it.
Here's the deal, especially with relationships, men like to think they want a head-strong, independent, opinionated girl, but in reality, they still long for the meek, submissive, weak ones. It is, of course, always nice to hear that your significant other is a financially independent, thinking individual who enjoys reading, musical theater, writing, art films, museums, philanthropy, history and culture -- by God, she is the personification of class and breeding; a paragon of virtue! However, most men aren't strong enough or secure enough in their masculinity to handle such a head-strong female. Men get tired of fanning the fire of her passion and choose to diminish it slowly, with each passing day. And once that spark inside her dies, it is near impossible to re-ignite, and all you're left with is an empty shell of a woman. You no longer see in her the things you loved about her the most.
It's ironic how being an independent woman is a lot like being a gay man. You either strut yourself proudly alone on top, with an audience to bask in your brilliance from afar, but with no one to give you a hug should you fail, or you remove that twinkle in your eye and blend in with someone who can never fully appreciate how fantastic you are. It's the age-old question: do you want a pedestal or an arm?
And still, after everything that was spoken of, everything that was written here, we find ourselves with no answer.