Sometime around the late 1800's, the stereotypes of women and men's roles in society were christened: The Cult of Domesticity.
So women rebelled, they fought, they made themselves heard.
Kate Chopin, taking hold of her liberties, explores sexuality in her book "The Storm". You may have heard of it. Erotic, and told from a man's point of view, "The Storm" is well praised and highly-regarded. This is literature, it is controversial, but it is well-thought and not mindlessly created.
I am not a feminist, nor am I a housewife. I just think everybody got confused, a little brain washed, and back pedaled so fast, away from domesticity, that they ran into the arms of individualism-- freedom--, unaware of what it would bring.
Women's rights and the whole exploration of women's sexuality and "empowerment" and "independence" are not the only factors that led to this age of misused sexuality, confusion, and empty-mindedness.
But here we are, 2011, we worship those who are glamorous. We cut our faces and change the shape of our bodies. People are taking steroids, then alcohol, anything to numb the pain and fit in to the new stereotype we have created. We buy million dollar clothing, and wear heels so high that we finally look like models. Good job America.
We spend our days watching violence, eating it up like candy. We spit it back out and repeat cycles. We shoot up and shoot our neighbors. We spend our money seeing films that portray the anger in our hearts, and what we forgot to feel because we've become so numb to violence, and so numb to sexuality.
Go on, down another bottle, fuck another woman, make another buck. America, you have it made.
But sometimes I meet a little child, one who claps their hands over a picture book and a new dolly, one who smiles when they clutch a fistful of fishy crackers. A child who wears a pink t-shirt and has never been abused. A child who laughs when the snow falls and plays in the rain, who wears rubber boots and doesn't mind the mud: one who lingers in her mother's embrace.
Sometimes I remember what it is like to have hope, so beautiful it stings your eyes and doesn't burn as it settles into the core of your being. Sometimes, I remember that love is more than the movies and more than cheap romance novels.
One day, I will know hope in the fibers and molecules of my body. No need to fear; I pray you know the age of hope when you see it.
