For every woman who is tired of acting weak when she knows she is strong, there is a man who is tired of appearing strong when he feels vulnerable.

For every woman who is tired of acting dumb, there is a man who is burdened with the constant expectation of ‘knowing everything.’

For every woman who is tired of being called ‘an emotional female,’ there is a man who is denied the right to weep and to be gentle.

For every woman who is called unfeminine when she competes, there is a man for whom competition is the only way to prove his masculinity.

For every woman who is tired of being a sex object, there is a man who must worry about his potency.

For every woman who feels ‘tied down’ by her children, there is a man who is denied the full pleasures of shared parenthood.

For every woman who is denied meaningful employment or equal pay, there is a man who must bear full financial responsibility for another human being.

For every woman who was not taught the intricacies of an automobile, there is a man who was not taught the satisfactions of cooking.

For every woman who takes a step toward her own liberation, there is a man who finds the way to freedom has been made a little easier.

‘ Nancy R. Smith

A friend of mine did a simple survey for his Sociology assignment. He asked many friends (about 20 of them) this question, ‘Would you feel more comfortable with a butch in your presence, or with an effeminate gay man?’

When he asked me this question, I replied, ‘Oh the gay man, of course.’

I was reading an article on psychology today. The author started with the alarming news: “Marriage is dead! [Alarming because if you are the average folk, you would think that marriage should be certain in a sea- life- of uncertainty. Certainty helps keep you sane.]

Briefly, the author wrote that the concept of having a soul mate has raisen our expectations of our partners, and thus aggravated divorce rates. The author compared this to the traditional model of “father who brings home the bacon” and “mother who bears and raises the kids”. In other words, people in the past marry for practical reasons; people of today marry for the impossible concept of perfect love. The article seemed to ring a whiny tone, lamenting the low divorce rates of the not-too-distant-past. Obviously advocating for something our government would like- the agenda is glaring in my face.

The article continued to write of the benefits of being hitched and segregated these benefits according to gender: Marriage gives financially stability to women particularly; married men live longer and both genders are satisfied with sex (simply because there ain’t anyone else you can compare with when you are in a monogamous relationship).

Make-up

So, now that I had bought a dress, I had to face the issue of make-up (no pun intended). I actually had already started thinking about make-up months before. At first, I had thought I could get away with not wearing any make-up to the wedding. But then various people started telling me that I had to. OK, they didn’t say it was compulsory, but the person who managed to convince me was my colleague (different from the dress-shopping one, but also another straight female one) who told me “If you are not wearing make-up, and when you take photos with your sister or the others who are wearing make-up, then you will look like a ghost in contrast to them.” No, my colleagues are not big on subtlety.

Before I continue, I should perhaps explain that I have a love-hate relationship with make-up. It goes beyond mere unfamiliarity due to never wearing any. I actually do believe that make-up is a form of oppression. Why do women have to go through so much effort just to look natural ? Don’t they look natural to begin with, the way they were created? Why is it normal for a man to spend just 5 minutes getting ready to leave the house, but unheard of for a woman? And obscene amounts of women’s salaries go to keeping the cosmetics industry probably the largest industry in the world.

I was surprised when I saw him sitting at the piano when I walked into church. His bright yellow shirt and flamboyant manner was shocking. I felt a strange and foreign kinship with him, yet I was confused as to why he was part of the worship team. He was totally gay! I attended a few weeks without sharing my thoughts with anyone else, but finally I nonchalantly asked a fellow church member if my suspicions were true. Her response was, ‘of course not dear, he’s a Christian’! I knew she was wrong, but I learned once again that I was treading on thin ice as a Christian and a closet lesbian. I was reminded how I should be and on the surface, no one could accept me for what I was.

I had ignored the fact that I loved women for years and years. I was too busy being the perfect daughter, the perfect student, and the perfect sister. I had to make everyone happy at all costs, so when the distraction of a confusing attraction crept its way into my mind, it was easy to push it away in haste without a second thought. The dreams I had at night of holding my best friend or touching a female classmate were easy to ignore too. I mean really, dreams are so confusing!

Add to the mix the unspoken rules of my faith and it was doubly important not to acknowledge the hidden feelings that dwelt subconsciously in my mind and heart.