Ramblings of Womanhood
An Unorganised Essay/Poem
I’m a fan of dark philosophy. I’m a fan of knowing we were all born doomed for failure, heartache, and flaws only for this to be coined by society as the ‘terrible twos’. I wonder if my mother knew that her assertiveness and desire for control would eventually make me, a child, lose her own control in order to please her. Over her emotions, her body, her words, and her actions. I wonder if she realized that I would become someone who dreaded being born both a woman, with a flawed human condition that is cursed upon us.
I’ve now since passed the age of two. I’ve passed the time of puberty scaring my skin with acne, stretch marks, and hair in places I wish never grew. I feel as though I’ve experimented beyond my sexual desires and yet I still have milestones to overcome. I’ve never experienced love as I can’t compare one lover to another since each one has dragged my body through the earth and down into the depths of their own personal hell. Only to then turn their backs on me when another offered them heaven.
I’m the product of a human condition only placed on women. When Daisy Buchanan, a woman created by Zelda Fitzgerald, wanted her daughter to be born a fool I understand. I wish I was born a beautiful fool so I wouldn’t have to ponder this human condition I’ve been placed with. I wouldn’t have to criticize every aspect of myself beyond the masculine expectation of beauty. But then again I would find a way to bring myself down.
Biopsychosocial research shows that women hold far more emotional pain and burden compared to our male counterparts. Our emotions are so integral to the conceptualization that we will result in persistent pain. Every woman that I have met has been the victim of this. We carry a burden of perfection and flaws that men don’t worry about. We carry a life, only to lose it or to birth a being that will have the same damnation. Whether this pain is acute or chronic we are certain of our emotions are the cause of our lack of rational control.
When I feel emotional pain, my headaches more than my stomach ever will when I go without food for longer than a day. I find myself in the showers crying over the smallest things, only to feel pain in my back and in my chest. Why?
Is it since I carry a different burden in comparison to a man?
Is it because I’ve become a Daisy Buchanan? A beautiful fool who has caused enough turmoil?
Or is it the fact that generational trauma genes that have been carried by women in my family have caught up to me? Only for me to crack at the seams and find myself relying on doctors to prescribe me anti-depressants?
In dark philosophy we, as women, as creatures; are underestimated and undervalued. We are seen as creatures made for sex, as a symbol of feminity and divine purity. As naive children, we are conditioned by our fathers, brothers, and by society to act in a way that accepts us. However, we condition ourselves in such a way that condemns ourselves in the privacy of our bathrooms and bedrooms.
It does give me comfort, even though it’s hell.
