The Lost Art of Being a Lady

First let me confess here, I definitely grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and in some dark places, and never concerned myself too much with decorum. Survival yes, decorum not so much.

Okay, so there was one incident where I may even have chewed tobacco on a dare. It was the most hideous thing ever, but it sure did wipe the smirk off of someone’s face and earn me 20 bucks. The dare was simply that girls couldn’t chew tobacco. I settled that, oh yes we can. Why in the heck we would ever want to is another question entirely, but we can.

We can do a lot of things we probably shouldn’t. Just because we can, doesn’t always mean we should. In fact, doing things just because you can is often a bad idea.

So, I really must declare myself to be a self-professed expert on how to be both a lady and not a lady. Also, I simply have to lament the complete decline of western civilization and rant about the sad state of affairs we now find ourselves in. In our quest to promote the idea that girls can do anything, including completely rejecting anything that girls can do, we have really created a monster. Gone is anything that may be considered soft or feminine or heaven forbid, “pink.” Being a lady is apparently something only “old people” do, or so I have been told. Young girls tend to sneer at the very idea.

Yes, yes I know, “don’t judge me,” but I must because it is bad, very bad, out there in The Big World. Girls seem to have forgotten that being a lady is about who and what you are, how you define your own self, what you draw and attract towards yourself. It is really not about being oppressed at all, but rather about being fully empowered.

This was a fairly simple matter to teach my older children some 30 years ago, but the culture has just declined so rapidly that now such efforts fall on deaf ears, leaving me in complete despair over the state of young womanhood.  Oh, woe is me…I play to a rough crowd, indeed.

How rough, you may ask? Oh boy, so rough that we now think nothing of standing on a street corner having a spitting contest, competing to see who can hock up the most disgusting weaponry possible, while taunting passer-bys. It is enough to make me want to snap a few thongs that are so prominently displayed about six inches outside of our clothing.

Girls apparently do not understand older women and the danger that lurks there, the mental instability that can strike at any moment and send one out on a thong snapping tirade. I kid you not, do not be deceived by the meek and mild appearance, the gentle mannerisms that young girls so foolishly try to dismiss as “weakness” in older women. You delude yourselves indeed, having no idea what lurks beneath that soft veneer….. but I digress.

Alas, today femininity seems to be all about being as loud as possible, cursing vehemently, being outrageous and shocking, reveling in the sheer perversion of it all, and presenting the world with a hard and tough exterior as if to say, “don’t even mess with me.” I empathize deeply with those “don’t tread on me” sentiments, however it is far more powerful to hold them on the inside, to keep them incognito, so when you do strike, nobody sees it coming. To advertise how big and bad you actually perceive yourself to be, is simply foolishness. “Keep them guessing and they’ll never see you coming” is a far better approach and sure to gain you a much-needed advantage.

All those pocket knives and spikes and torn and shredded tights, simply scream “bring it on, I dare you!” But please just ask yourselves, what in the world are you demanding people “bring on” and why??

What The World really needs from you is what it has always needed from you, your soft heart, your gentleness, your capacity to empathize with others and to create beauty where none exists. To reflect and multiply the goodness that is within, to shine your light into the world, to transform what is ugly and unappealing and to create something beautiful. That is what women have done for centuries, the gifts we have brought to the world, a rare and fine resource indeed, one that has known its own worth and value so well, it has never felt the need to try to prove itself.

We may well love men or at least find boys to be curious and enchanting creatures indeed, but that does not mean we must suddenly start imitating the very worst of their behavior! This is not a competition, a race to the bottom, you are unique and special and different. It is that very difference that makes you special! Embrace it, accentuate it, celebrate it. Be proud of who and what you are and the job you have been given to do.

Do not envy boys and men for what they can do, because just like you, what they can do is not always what they should do. There is truly nothing particularly clever or desirable about chewing tobacco or spitting great wads of horror out on a public street. Such things take no special talent, nor are they the trappings of the affluent and so-called privileged. Like, hello, to seek what you perceive men to “have” is to fail to know the nature of your own self or the nature of men, and the saddest thing of all is you must erase all that is good and golden about your own self in the process.

Your softness, your sweet and gentle spirit, is what The World has always needed from you and it is what the world still needs from you. It is not an easy job, it is not a job for the faint of heart, it is by far the most challenging thing you will ever do, but for goodness sakes do it! When we do not step into those shoes, when we fail to rise to the occasion, The World gets thrown out of balance, the ugly things remain ugly, your light does not shine, and the hidden beauty does not get seen.

The World seeks to deceive you, The World has always sought to deceive women, to convince us to snuf out our own light, to deny our own femininity, to exchange it for all kinds of cheap imitations, ranging from a piece of fruit to some bizarre notion of sexual empowerfulness. It is a war, a war I tell you, one we did not chose but one we must fight with everything we’ve got. Failure is not an option.

Ask yourself why such a relentless war exists, why such an enemy persists all through time, and then you will come to know your true worth and value, your vital purpose in the world. That is what you must fight for, that is the enemy you must rebel against, and nothing irks him more then a girl with a sweet and gentle spirit, bound and determined to make some ugly things more beautiful.

Quite simply what “ladies” do is walk in the world with a keen awareness of their own worth and value, no easy task I assure you. It is not bold and arrogant, nor is it  narcissistic and entitled, but rather quietly filled with confidence and grace.

Toxic Masculinity?

"Understanding Toxic Masculinity: Why Defending Men Isn’t Enough"

Interesting article written last year that I rather enjoyed.

“Vast forums host scores of lonely and deranged life drop-outs regularly assembling to rail against The Matriarchy and obsess about sex.”

Yes, yes, we’ve certainly met. Call it a close encounter of the unpleasant kind. The woman who wrote this article refers to them as biter men, I call them the Lost Boys.

I now have a pretty clear understanding of what toxic masculinity is and what it is not. It’s kind of sad, we’re living in a culture that has worked really hard to change gender roles, to redefine the family, to restructure the definition of marriage, and many boys and men are now suffering, completely confused about who and what they are, what their roles are, how they fit into the equation. What it even means to be men anymore.

She says, “This is the essence of “toxic masculinity.” It is emotionally stunted and obsessed with sex and violence. Toxic males seek the thrill of danger and shun responsibility and commitment. Since they lust after women but don’t want to marry or love them, their attitude towards the other sex tends to be offensively objectifying, and can easily turn misogynistic if (as often happens) they experience rejection.”

This is especially sad to me, because misogyny nearly always has it’s roots in self-loathing. It is not really fear of women, it is not really hatred of women, it is deep seated resentment and inability to embrace and love the very nature of your own self. It is generally wrapped in layers and layers of shame and deception.

It’s somewhat amusing, the most common complaint I get is that I don’t empathize with men. It’s amusing because I’ve written dozens of posts paying tribute to fathers, brothers, husbands, marriage, love. I am a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter, my entire life is entwined and shaped and formed by relationships with men. Symbiosis. I really cannot pour anymore praise over men than I already do. So, such false accusations are simply foolishness and people’s erratic attempts to confirm their own biases.

She goes on to say, “My experience suggests conservatives are more or less united in seeing healthy masculinity as a positive thing, which we as a society should encourage and foster. That being the case, it should be possible to discuss potentially-toxic strains of masculine culture among ourselves without risk of becoming more generally anti-male.”

Amen. This country really does need to have a discussion on what healthy masculinity is and what it is not. Like many other discussions we need to have as a culture, it is an issue so wrapped in hyperbole and knee jerk emotionalism it is unlikely to ever happen.

Jaded

   

So jaded

You think that’s where it’s at

But is that where it’s supposed to be….

-Aerosmith

It may not come across on the internet, but I am actually one of the biggest skeptics around, cynical, jaded, downright misanthropic, a big word I learned from Ada over at lovelifeandgod. It means “disliking humankind and avoiding human society.”

     

I am way better than I used to be, in fact, those broken bits have been healed and fused back together, stronger than they were to begin with. It still amuses me however, the contrast between being so skeptical and jaded and yet today being so strongly in faith I can be downright charismatic about it.

     

Someone mentioned I was “too saved,” that I should focus on something other than God, write about a pear. A pear!? But you see, God is in the pear! He is in the grainy texture, in the sweetness of the juice that dribbles down your tongue. God is in the pear seed, He is in the blossoms, in the fruit….as you can see, I am rather hopelessly romantic when it comes to God. What can I say, having a relationship with Him can be a bit like falling in love over and over again, and beginning anew the next day.

     

Falling in love over and over again is actually hard work, it can be exhausting. I wish everyone could be blessed with such suffering…

     

So on being cynical and jaded, when you are reason based and rational and bitter, a choir of angels could descend from the heavens and start singing praises and you would go, “Uh hmm, sure, where are the hidden cameras? Your lighting is all wrong and I think your sound system needs some work. Also, that man behind the curtain, his feet are sticking out…”

     

That’s pride that does that to us, not wanting to be deceived, being pre-emptively defensive, walling ourselves off to the risk of disappointment, to being made to feel foolish.

    

 It’s a bit amusing, but it’s been my experience that God cares nothing for human pride, judging from the way He is so good at relieving us of it frequently. Many times I have thought, “well this is just humiliating” and God has said, “well it wouldn’t be if you weren’t clinging so hard to your pride!” That’s very true, where there is no pride, there can be no shame and humiliation.

     

Recently I’ve been reading some blogs and books about spiritual abuse, about some appalling experiences that people have had with charismatic and narcissistic leadership within churches. Uhg, I cannot imagine anything more offensive, more hurtful, then being betrayed by your spiritual leadership. 

The very nature of faith requires you to have a soft heart, so there you are, open and exposed, right when some yahoo decides to go on a power trip. This stuff makes me angry and these aren’t even my stories.

    

 I believe those who teach and lead really are held to a higher standard. James 3:1 speaks to this, “My brethren, be not many masters, knowing that we shall receive the greater condemnation” or “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.”

     

Woe be unto them who forget who they serve. It’s a bit like wearing a uniform, just as an employer will hunt you down if you get caught on camera doing something wrong with the company logo prominently displayed, I suspect God is not going to be too pleased with those who do cruelty in His name.

    

 In the midst of all this ugliness however, I am reminded that people chose to believe, to take the risk, to seek with an open heart. That opens you up to potential wounding, but it is far, far preferable to walling yourself off, to walking among the jaded as I have so often done. Being cynical and skeptical doesn’t really protect you, it walls you off from the good as well as the bad. You deprive yourself of being able to see truth and beauty.

     

I am really grateful that God has so frequently managed to slip in under the radar and bypass all my skepticism, over and over again. Many times I have been so busy looking for that man behind the curtain, so consumed with seeking the hidden deception, that He has slipped right into my heart when I wasn’t even looking. Very sneaky, but oh so delightful.

     

ColorStorm writes some great posts, lots of scriptural wisdom to be found over there. I really enjoyed the latest, especially his declaration, “I submit that the word of a good man is evidence enough to justify your trust.” It’s such an important thing to remember. We live in a jaded world full of a great deal of skepticism, distrust, and deception, but it’s important to remember to look beyond all that, to keep your heart soft and open and willing to trust. Sometimes it’s painful but the alternative is to be so afraid of that pain that you never really get to live.