Since families were created and land established, men have controlled society, in one way or another. Through property, children, money and power, men have created a lasting effect on Western society and imprinted a lack of confidence on so many different minds.
Starting over 1,000 years ago, monogamy became a way of controlling economies and taking power. Ensuring a next of kin, specifically one in wedlock, became one of the most vital ways to maintain this. These concepts carried through centuries of development in society, and continue to prosper to this day.
So naturally, this affects little old me. As a bisexual, biracial woman, there are many parts of my identity and individuality that some may aspire to have and others will fetishise. The delights of dating non-men often mean that I escape some of these trials and tribulations. For a while now I’ve grown accustomed to being loved by individuals who take very little offence at an unshaved leg, stretch marks or belly flab. However, once in a blue moon a man will sneak through the cracks of my roster and I’ll want to change every part of my personality, my body and my identity, even if he never asks me to.
I ask myself why, as a self-respecting, hard-core feminist, I allow the standards that are held by soon-to-be-balding men to affect me so. Why so many, strong, independent, beautiful individuals are affected by these belittling and misogynistic ideals? Are we truly lacking this much confidence?
One of these, soon-to-be-balding men has made his bed in my brain. After a small and fleeting interaction with a man who is probably selfish in bed and has the emotional maturity of a pencil, I’ve become absolutely enchanted. And it is mortifying. This man is no different to any of the other crappy men I’ve dated, all of whom have managed to royally fuck me over, and yet I have no hesitation in diving head-first into a cement wall of fuck-boyism.
I will admit this man has a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ about him. With thick curly locks, and the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes, I have found myself fantasising about the possibility of a relationship together. And the one thing that stops me each time is that voice in the back of my head, and not the one telling me I’m crazy. This voice chants over and over again that I’m probably too fat for him, too loud, too weird. That my stomach is too big and my legs are too short and he would never go for a brown girl like me.
I wonder whether his previous comment about me being ‘leng’ will have since been changed now that he’s met me in person. I wonder whether he’s screaming ‘CATFISH’ to his friends or whispering ‘crazy’ after I request his account. I’ll check my phone to see if he’s messaged, which considering we don’t know each other is highly unlikely, and then feel unbelievably disappointed when there is no message to be seen. Spending hours fawning over his edgy, skater-boy Instagram account is not how I planned on spending my weekend, and yet I can’t seem to escape it.
To make matters worse, the war of all wars is being fought in my brain, deciding whether I’m less of a feminist for being ashamed of this ritual or just a sad loser who wants to get laid. I know deep down that many before me have experienced these exact feelings, and many more will follow. But I can’t seem to quiet that voice in my head when she says “You’re not good enough.”
So I’m deciding to ignore this voice. I’ll stare at his page ten more times before I fall asleep and ten more times when I wake up. I’ll go to sleep creating a romance in my head and I’ll wake up and smile at the stupidity of it all. I’ll even ponder over a message I’d write to him before slapping myself across the face and screaming “Snap out of it!”.
The lasting impact of patriarchy is still pervasive. Through millennia of the male gaze and the oppression of women, we have been fine-tuned into what feels like a pre-natural state of conformity. To the point where we have felt the need to change ourselves to fit the ideals of men. 62% of women feel ‘negatively’ about their appearance and actively try to change it day-to-day.
It’s hard to say how long patriarchy will have this grasp on us but what I will continue to remind myself again and again, is that I’m worth every second a person can spend with me. I’m worth every penny, every fight, and every night together. You are not a bad feminist for feeling a lack of control over your emotions in a new situationship, we have been conditioned into our insecurities and it may take a long time to shake that off. For now, just remember to never sacrifice a part of yourself for somebody else, and never let a man make you feel small.
