just one voice from the rabble
Thank goodness for a good man like Mr. G to remind silly me it’s That Time Of Year again. I’ve been too busy cooking and child-raising to write a proper post on the subject.
For now, feminists will have to be satisfied with gnashing their teeth over the rank misogyny of a TV show that portrays a woman entirely owned by a man, to whom she refers to as ”master.”
When I read about why one woman chose not to have children (hat tip to Missy: thanks for giving me something to post about!), and then why another has remained single, my heart ached for these ladies. A light-hearted rant about why it’s better to “die alone” than face motherhood didn’t cheer me any, so I wrapped up my research with an explanation why sleeping until 10am is proof that childlessness is the better choice.
My sympathy doesn’t stem from reasons one might expect: the sadness of childlessness! the loneliness of an old maid!
The problem is deeper than that, don’t you think?
Children, spouses, families: as all-consuming as they can be, they are still just trees in that deep dark forest called Your Life. The above-linked souls seem well and truly lost in their own forests, regardless of the kind of trees growing there.
Let’s pull back and try a broader perspective. The further away our view, the less details can distract. The picture becomes simpler, people turn into ants, then disappear, then bam! The forest is right in front of you.
The question isn’t whether it’s better to have kids or not, or whether it’s better to marry or not. The real question is, how do I find meaning in life? Oh, that pesky human need to feel that life is meaningful:
I’m doing the right thing, right? What’s it all for, anyway?
Interestingly, the articles written from more experienced perspectives (here and here) seem particularly riddled with doubt and worry, although I suspect the basic question–why am I here?–drifts like mist through every forest. Perhaps the younger two authors haven’t wandered around long enough to feel the damp chill of worry yet.
Now, on to the meaning of life. Having kids is pretty much the quickest, no-brainer kind of way to find meaning. Those wiggly, squalling little blobs of secretion are great “purpose-givers,” are they not?
Yet children are only one of the myriad ways toward a meaningful life. If you decide not to have them, or if circumstances decide for you, then what? Life’s meaningless? Of course not. Let’s see, a thousand different religions, causes, good deeds, great adventures, ardent competitions, grand visions, or creative ambitions might fill up your life quite nicely. Might.
The younger two writers point out the more practical benefit to childlessness, here:
“Because we are not having kids, I’ve been able to leave my old career and go back to school full time to pursue a new passion. My husband, forever the car enthusiast, has his sites [sic] set on a new Nissan GTR.”
And here, in an inverse fashion:
“Having kids is making a decision to live a life with strollers, diaper bags, breast pumps, sleep deprivation, and the withering looks from strangers like me, who wonder why you thought it was a good idea to bring your toddler to a Victorian painting exhibit.”
These explanations encapsulate the hope that living for yourself will provide meaning enough. After all, if you don’t seek after your own interests, who will?
“For all these things the nations of the world seek after, and your Father knows that you need these things. But seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you. Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
Oh, dear. I’ve gone there, haven’t I? To the very thing that would probably provoke eyerolls and scoffing from the kind of person who writes things like:
“I believe women who are supported by men are prostitutes, that is that, and I am heartbroken to live through a time where Wall Street money means these women are not treated with due disdain.”
It’s funny how that quote doesn’t bother me. Me, the stay-at-home whore mom. I’m no more insulted than I am when my younger son gets really upset and claims he’s going to run away. How can I take the insult to heart, when the same article holds this angst:
“Convention serves a purpose: It gives life meaning, and without it, one is in a constant existential crisis. If you don’t have the imposition of family to remind you of what is at stake, something else will. I was alone in a lonely apartment with only a stalker to show for my accomplishments and my years.”
And more angst:
“I have lost my life. I had a lot of friends, saw people, had full days. I don’t know where anyone is anymore, and I can’t even remember who it is that is gone.”
Jeepers. I hope Ms. Wurtzel finds good answers for those existential questions, and some peace in life. If she or anyone else should happen to read this post, and if she or anyone else should further happen to find themselves unable to satisfy that need for meaning, no matter what is acquired or accomplished, well.
That particular Bible quote I used is Luke 20:30-32. You could start there.
UPDATE: Thank you Glenn Reynolds! eleventy! To new commenters, sorry for the delay in approving comments last night, and thank you for your thoughts. I’ve changed the settings to allow you right in, so do behave yerselves. ;)
UPDATE: David Lat knows more than I do about Elizabeth Wurtzel, if you’d like more background.
UPDATE: This Andrew Patrick fellow’s post on the subject is fantastic. I highly recommend it, even though his superior wit chafes me slightly.
There once was a Jewish girl named Pauline. As a child, Pauline was found to have a talent for the arts, especially music; she was quite good at the piano. And she received an excellent education.
But Pauline would not exploit or develop these gifts. She threw away all her potential; instead of pursuing higher education and a career before settling down and getting married…
Awhile back, I reblogged a post from The Patriot Perspective about the problems with allowing women in the Marine Infantry School. In the comment section, I mentioned learning that, for the time being, the Marines were not going to “gender norm” the physical standards, i.e., they will not make it easier for women to pass than men, based on each gender’s physical capabilities.
Short Timer has been kind enough to elaborate on the issue, and it’s worth sharing. Beyond the basic question of “is she physically strong enough,” he details a few other reasons why women-as-combatants are problematic even if the answer is yes, she is physically strong enough:
Even more important than all of that, Short Timer says that the Marines will use something called “gender neutral” tests, and that quotas will be imposed. In other words, the Marines will simply lower the standards for both men and women, and require the Infantry School to pass at least “x” number of women.
Huh.
You see, when I read over at Outside the Beltway that there would be no “gender norming,” i.e., no differing standards for men and women like we have in the Navy, I assumed that the standards would not be lowered at all.
Confirmation is right here:
“. . . there is a plan to evaluate male and female Marines against new physical fitness standards that are being developed.”
New physical fitness standards for both men and women are being developed. Tricky.
Important, too, are the quotas Short Timer mentioned. My own quick Google search does not unearth anything about quotas, i.e., requiring a military school to pass a certain number of females.
However. I specifically remember an old friend complaining about “the quota” when he was an instructor at Officer Candidate School. The requirement that at least 7% of the graduating class be female was a real source of frustration. It was hard to find that many female candidates worth their salt. (I think he said it was 7%. Wish I could ask him now.)
So, thanks for the additional info, Short Timer. And thanks for your service in God’s own Corps.
And read the whole thing, ya’ll. He includes a little Rule 5 bonus.
CORRECTION: My friend was an instructor at OCS (Officer Candidate School), not TBS (The Basic School) as I originally wrote. Whoops.
Offend A Feminist week has sent me off to find vintage ads, because searching the ‘net is way easier than writing. Here’s the best I’ve found:
I can’t help but chuckle at the use of “B.O.” as an acronym for something other than “Barack Obama,” which is no less odious as far as I’m concerned.
I also found this beautiful shot, which I’m assuming is sexist because women aren’t allowed to be on a pedestal anymore, are they?
Me, I’d be happy to be on that pedestal, looking all pretty. What is she wearing, anyway? Daywear, sleepwear, evening wear? I can’t even tell, frumpy ol’ me.
Then, I found this gorgeous image of a manly man. Check out the fedora on this one:
Fedoras, of course, make me think of Da Tech Guy, who recently enjoyed a well-earned laugh over leftist anxiety about size . . .
Size of the crowd, that is.
Hah. I remember fussing about the size of my crowd, too.
Da Tech Guy concludes his post: “God these guys must hate the internet.”
Um, yeah. They must.
Want to see what it was like when the left wasn’t threatened by the internet? Check out this vintage news footage:
“Engineers now predict, the day will come when we get all our newspapers and magazines by computer, but that’s a few years off. For the moment at least, this fellow (a newspaper seller is depicted) isn’t worried about being out of a job.”
A local station news babe continues, “Now, it takes over two hours to receive the entire text of a newspaper by phone, and with an hourly use charge of 5 dollars, the new tele-paper won’t be much competition for the twenty-cent street addition.”
Nope. No competition at all, my pretty.
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