Dainty & Strong

My mind paints two conflicting imagines in my desired identity as a women. It is starkly visible on two of my private pinterest boards: “delicate” & “fuck off”. One has photos of beautiful, slim women with small wrists and visible collarbones. The other, women with six-packs doing pull ups and boxing. This is the root of my dissatisfaction, or maybe more accurately undecidedness, with my body, my identity, my social roles.

The girl I long for a man to see is sweet. She is physically delicate and perfect in every way; pliant and graceful. She is a little frightened of the world. Her innocent ambitions consist of only to be safe and cared for. To be alone is frightening.

The girl I want the world to see is capable. She is physically strong. No one could take advantage of her, physical or otherwise. Her ambitions are clear and straightforward. But there is no sexuality to her. To be near someone is to be vulnerable. She can’t be sexual because she cannot be weak. To be alone is necessary.

When I met women or men I’m not attracted to, I strive to show them the strong women. When I met men I am attracted to, I strive to show them the delicate girl. Maybe it is purely out of fear, but I do not want to be weak. I have to be strong to avoid being taken advantage of. Being a women makes me inherently weak, which results in most of my frustration.

Being strong erases all sexuality for me. I don’t like it, but I have a very strong connection between being vulnerable and weak and sex. There is a very strong attraction to being used; ideally by someone attractive and caring, but still used, overpowered. Even if it annoys the heck out of me, I think this is a fundamental part of sexuality for most women.

Lacking physical strength is the root of feeling vulnerable which is something I strongly do not desire in my daily life on any level. However, this otherwise undesirable situation is an essential element for physical attraction.

I don’t have a solution right now. I don’t know that these opposing roles can be reconciled fully. Maybe they can be kept separated. That is still frustrating because it prohibits a cohesive person. For now, I am just working on being being physically strong. It’s a better solution than hurting myself, but it doesn’t solve the conflict.

The Weddings are Weird and Women are Weak

This past weekend, a friend of my brother’s got married and I attended the wedding. Not only was it surreal to think people so close to my age are getting married, it was bizzare watching the wedding.

Sure, there were tears, the emtions were true, but everyone looked as if they were playing some role in a play. Layers and layers of cultural values, symbols, and traditions came together in a strange, medieval-like theatre.


These particular friends of my brother’s are particularly religious. The misogyny was pugnant in the air. Phrases like “submit to”, “helper for”, and being “ruled by” a Christian husband were referred to straight from that holy book.

Like many other situations, this wedding reminded me how much I hate women. The bride, while not literally being sold to a man, was being given to him. Yes, yes, he was devoting himself equally to her.  Additionally, the act of the father stating he was “giving away” his daughter enforced the feeling of the women being sold.

Aside from that, I generally hold women in contempt for their purpose as men’s pleasure and baby-making machines. This wedding brought those thoughts to the forefront of my mind.

She was dressed up with hair pinned in a painstakingly complex fashion and dressed in a frilly white gown like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Her dainty figure reflected her purpose as a play thing, and foam orbs on her chest represented her future use as a caregiver.

Women aren’t just for making babies! They are people too. We make our own purpose in life. This is the reaction most would have to these ideas. Today we women can make their own purpose. However, from a biological and evolutionary sense, our purpose is to perpetuate the species. That means using a women’s body. Men are necessary, but not used to the same degree– no, they aren’t being used at all, they are using. And that irks me.

It more than irks me. It makes me want to rip out my ovaries and slice off my breasts. It makes me want to hide from myself even more and dig into my fat.

It isn’t the Stone Age. Women are not forced into lives they don’t want- at least for the most part in the United States. They are still vulnerable to it though. I don’t know how to get over this. I don’t know how to be okay with it and recognize the opportunities I have.