Oh, how I wanted to be a man. If you can't beat them, join them. But they don't want to let you in the club. You're not welcome. You're not one of them, the good guys, the old boys club.
Being born a woman was a series of disappointments. You'll never be as tall, fast, strong, smart, capable, free as a man. And by the way, you'll get hips and breasts in a very painful adolescent transformation. And you'll be bleeding one-quarter of each month. And you'll have to pay for those tampons. No, men don't have to go through this. And you'll be responsible if you get pregnant, so you'll have to pay for birth control, which may ruin your chances of conceiving later on in life when you're ready to get pregnant. Without information on these long-term side effects, you'll have to make these choices alone at age 15. After taking this form of injectable birth control so you wouldn't forget to take it and accidentally get pregnant for 11 years, you'll be told that no person is meant to be on it for that long and certainly not for 10 years.
Then, when you are married, and you can't wait a moment longer to get pregnant because your eggs are nearly all rotten, you'll bear the guilt of infertility. You'll AGAIN take all the hormones to produce a final clutch of eggs. You'll take methylprednisolone, which will make you feel crazy. You will relate to American Horror Story - Delicate, except without the power of witchcraft. You'll be a pincushion for months. You'll put in messy suppositories. You'll take pills, too. Your child's father will have to make absolutely no lifestyle changes. You'll look back on the last decade of trying to conceive as a failure on your part, God's way of punishing you for being a bad person and undeserving of motherhood.
Then pregnancy! Your partner will never understand what it feels like to be literally connected to the fetus. Your breasts will undergo another painful transformation. While puberty makes you a target of the male gaze, pregnancy is a leveling up from maidenhood to matron. You are no longer of aesthetic value to society. Your girlhood is spent, and you no longer have the power of allure.
You will turn inward. You will be responsible for paying for the prenatal vitamins. You may have to manage extreme hyperemesis gravidarum during pregnancy. You may get gestational diabetes. You may have to work right up until your due date. You might have to go back to work right after delivering the baby. There are so many shitty parts of pregnancy, it's all your burden to bear. Men will never understand.
Then you'll deliver. You'll have to learn how to breastfeed. You'll fall off of a hormone cliff that nobody warns you about. You'll be in more pain than ever in your life. Nobody will explain anything to you. You'll be alone with your pain and confusion, postpartum anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. Nobody will follow up with you. There will be no assistance in healing your body despite being cut 7 ways to Sunday, from hip to hip.
You'll learn too late that there were things you should have been doing in the two months after your C-section that would have prevented scar tissue. But nobody told you about that, and anyway, you will be too afraid to touch or look at your scar because it reminds you that you weren't able to give birth vaginally because male surgeons are in a hurry to cut. Hospitals only let you labor for 24 hours, even though birth can take much longer. You'll work on strengthing your pelvic floor with so many Kegels before delivery and then learn after the fact that you should have been thinking instead of being flexible instead of strong. You will have high levels of relaxin circulating for 1000 days, or however long you breastfeed or however long it takes for your period to return, but that's different for every woman, and you have no control over that. You may be encouraged by friends to see a pelvic floor PT, but you won't be encouraged to do so by your doctor, so you will be uncertain whether it's covered by your insurance.
Then, the pressure to be a good mom will descend on you and weigh you down for the foreseeable future. Everything wrong with your child will be blamed on you and not the child's father. Every time your child does not fit the norm, you'll be shamed if you don't immediately make it your foremost project to fix. Your colleagues will think you are unprepared while you exist in the fog of mombrain. You will search for the right words, which will elude you, while your newfound sense of superhearing and empathy will remain underrated. Your career will stall. Your male colleagues will think, she used to be so sharp; what a shame, she really let herself go. You'll hear phantom crying, even when your baby is only 2 feet away from you on the other side of the shower curtain. You'll have the strangest night sweats, engorgement, cravings for bacon and chocolate, and the worst body odor of your life. After 7 months, your hair will randomly start falling out.
Then, after adjusting to the demands of breastfeeding and nightmares and teething and toddler tantrums and potty training and picky eating and learning to read and self-feed and self-dress, finally, the little person doesn't need you as much anymore, which is kind of a heartbreak in itself, then you arrive at perimenopause. You'll take supplements you would have never considered before. It's not like you are trying to be eternally youthful. You're just trying to get through the day and night with less pain and suffering. You take pills to address clogged milk ducts, muscle repair, milk supply, mood, bone density, hair, teeth, nails, connective tissue, and cartilage. Should you be taking more? Less? Who knows? Because there are no studies on women. There are not enough women who engage in extended breastfeeding in their 40s. Your menstruation is not well understood, nor is the transition to that third life era -- crone. And the responsibility of knowing about it and doing the right thing, taking hormones or not, is All on you. Your husband will not know anything about it, nor will your doctor. 4 out of 5 professionals will tell you that you are just depressed. The one that takes you seriously will ask for an exorbitant fee to even begin to help you put the pieces back together again. Your insurance won't cover it. Again, the financial responsibilities will be all up to you.
And by the way, you'll be paid less than your male colleagues. And men will get jobs they're underqualified for. Their competence will be accepted with a handshake while you run uphill to prove yourself even though you'll never be considered good or worthy.
I feel so sad and powerless. I was so hoping that one woman could step into her power today. That I might be able to say, as a woman, is that I am equally likely to become president or CEO or tenured professor or marathon finisher. Thank God I still have my running to keep me sane. I can just keep my head down and keep falling forward. I can make my home a happy and safe one. Will there be a women's march again? Will there be a march for science? Will there be a resurgence of black lives matter? What good did those marches do last time? When will we ever have representation that understands what women go through? I don't care if you're a brother, husband or father. You will never know what it's like to walk a mile in our shoes. Sharing this for the daughter I'll never have. I don't know what it is about this election defeat that is causing me to live the entirety of my trauma again. Maybe it has something to do with being grabbed in the pussy -- AGAIN.
A few sentiments that I've heard:
(1) She wasn't qualified. As if she hadn't just served as vice president for four years. And (nearly) every man elected president was someone's VP first—just look at my previous post. What more did she need to do?
(2) Men and women are reacting to the MeToo movement. They're tired of women calling them out for their bad behavior. They're tired of being politically correct. They don't understand trans people and don't want to. Gender pronouns? We don't know them. This is the empire striking back. But it's important to remember that a woman's place is in the resistance. I may have to rewatch that franchise to see how it ends.
(3) But is your life better now than 4-years ago, as if the last Trump presidency was a walk in the park. Everyone I know refers to 2020 as a "dumpster fire." It wasn't Biden and Harris that mishandled the pandemic so poorly. The insurrection of January 6th happened in 2021. So you can't blame the dumpster fire on Biden and Harris. That rests squarely on the shoulders of #45.
Also, Today marks 1700 days of breastfeeding. Nobody tells you it might go on this long, and there's no tutorial guide for stopping without causing more problems. And it's not all bad being a woman. There are some good parts. Fit4mom has been everything. My mom friends are a bright spot in the darkness right now. I'm going to attend Friendsgiving this weekend.
