The Rhetoric of Women’s Choice

In many ways  the rhetoric  behind discussions and debates over women’s ‘life choices’  remains a  completely false one.

For most women the notion of ‘Choice’ has become analogous with the idea of  choosing whether or not to become a working mother.

As the writer of this blog post from http://newsofthetimes.org/2012/05/29/why-cant-we-all-just-get-along-dividing-women-does-not-serve-anyone/   so eloquently states.

“I can’t help but feel that all of the seemingly fabricated conflicts trying to pit stay-at-home moms against working moms or against working women who are not mothers, feels like an intentional effort to divide women…The truth is that most women do not have a choice.”

Hidden within this context is a more insidious notion regarding the concept of choice that is still not openly being talked about.

Women, by their very biological makeup , have no choice but to be the gender that creates new life.

This is true in any and all circumstances  regardless of relationship status, time frame, or socio-economic conditions.

There is simply no avoiding this factual observation.

Yet avoid it we do.

But what about contraception ?

I hear you say.

Doesn’t that now allow women to make the choice as to whether or not to become mothers?

No. What contraception allows many Western women to do is to ‘put off’ having children at a young age.

Contraception merely enables some women to (hopefully) make a willful choice concerning when and with whom they choose to have a child.

It does not however, in any way, shape or form, stop them from being women.

To me the notion that women now choose their own path  based entirely on contraception is an incredibly hollow one.

 Especially when you consider the consistently high rate of unplanned pregnancies  still occurring in the Western world.

 And that’s without even  trying to take into account the millions of women living in third world conditions who have no access to the so-called contraception of ‘choice’.

So what is it that is wrong with the way society paints the picture of  ‘choice’  for women ?

It avoids the very real truth that all women have no choice but to carry all the expectations, tags and labels that  society heaps on them specifically because they are  the gender that produces children.

And  while as a society we verbally give voice to the sanctity of creating new life, in reality, we ignore the extremely limiting ‘life choices’ that biological inheritance still creates for women.

Yes I know the argument, women  in the modern era can and do work, and that things are getting better.

But just what sort of better is it exactly?

Women are still being criticized for making their own genuine choices.

Perhaps now even more so than ever before.

Yes women are able to choose career’s but what’s the number one reason why career women loose they’re status?

What’s the number one reason why women who want to work often can’t?

The number one reason is still  being the gender biologically charged with creating new life.

It seems to me that too often we are ignoring this one glaringly obvious and indisputable fact within our modern societies.

Yes men can and occasionally do choose to stay home and look after the children so the Mother can go back  to work, but this idealized argument  is so far from the norm as we know it, that house husbands are still being considered ( let’s face it),  a rarity.

So women, in addition to always being the gender that creates new life, are also now routinely being  both expected to, and criticized for, going/not going  off to work.

Yet we all live in age where, regardless of gender, we are forced to deal with the reality of living in a capitalist world that requires everyone , to make their own way.

Increasingly it seems to me, that these days, women are simply being criticized for retaining their femaleness within a man’s world.

So with that idea in mind, we just might ask ourselves, what new biological of socially driven roles, are men being required to take on?

None.

The world has not changed as much for them.

So the next time the issue of ‘women’s choice’ is being bandied around, you might just want to stop and consider just which socio-economic or biological choice is it exactly,  that women are being critiqued for now.

Working?

Having children?

Having children and working?

Having children and staying home?

Not having children and working?

Not having children at all?

Or for simply being a woman?

I mean really, when was the last the time you heard of a man’s ‘life choices’ being broken down  and critiqued in such an unrealistic and entirely  unforgiving way?

 

Invisible Tattoo

Your hand print’s,

Are  now,

So embedded

In my flesh,

When I look in the mirror

I can read your palm’s

Indelible tracings.

Your fate line,

Life line,

Heart.

These are the permanent

indentations,

You’ve   stamped

Forever on my  skin.

I will always wear

The residue

Of,

You.

Yet another

marker

Of all

that

   Is   

  unseen.

  Like the bruises  

  You’ve  left   behind

So tired now of the force of you

I’m   moving   away.

Out of your

Reach.

But

I

Will

    Always carry

      The tattooed lines

      Of your souls mistakes

En Guard

       Why do you guard yourself,

   Against me?

       Me ?   

    A  

      Child,  

     Without a shield,

      I  have  no weapons,

    To speak

   Of.

There   are   no  hidden    lightening   bolts   inside   me,

No     land      mines     set    to    trip    you      up,

No explosive incrimination’s of the past

And yet you guard yourself still

As if I had,

 A

 Spear,

 Concealed,

 Behind my back,

 Just waiting to attack.

 If this is what growing up

 Tastes of,

 Then I’m happy I’m a child,

 Without a shield,

 For as of yet,

 I do not,

Need,

 One,

I

hope,

I  never will.

Arm’s Length

I feel your hand upon my forehead.

The meat of your palm,

Pushing,

Against me

Your fingers,

Trailing,

Crawling in my,

Hair line.

Buttressing your strength,

Forming your only weaponry,

Out of your own,

Bones.

Your arm,

No longer than my own,

Yet so much stronger,

Builds a bridge of offense,

I cannot cross,

Forcing me to stay forever,

Far enough away,

To never,

Reach,

Beneath,

Your,

Skin.

Butterfly’s Wings

Nature is a butterfly’s wing.

A constant fluid moment of re-occurring patterns,

Born on the fragilest of creatures.

Each brush of its wing erases life,

And yet we cannot help but long to touch those swirls of color.

Even though,

We know,

Our touch brings death,

To the very creatures we marvel at,

Still,

We touch,

Even revel in our cleverness at being able to do so.

We are such simple beings in comparison.

We lack understandings of the intricacies of life,

 Still we wear our ignorance with pride.

Why do you think that is?

Blog Posting Is it All Just A Matter Of Timing?

The Passage of Time

The Passage of Time (Photo credit: ToniVC)

Does it matter what time of day you post?

I’ve just been reading a few articles on blogging.

Some suggest that there may be better times of the day to post than others.

So now I’m wondering if  a small thing like timing really matters ?

Being a Newbie I’m going to throw this question straight out  to the real blog experts.

So what do you think?

Have you found  that the  timing of  your blog posts really matters?

Are there certain times of the day/night that work better for you than others?

That Half Way Space Between Meaning and Rhyme

I simply adore writing that lands,

At that half way place,

Between poetry and prose.

It’s like speaking  a language,

So playfully prosaic,

It can’t help but to defy,

All preconceived  notions,

Of how one should,

Link thought to form.

To me therein,

Lies a hidden,

Symmetry,

Show casing the best,

Of both literary worlds,

So neatly compressed,

In one single line.

Linked in an ink,

Unrestricted,

By Mind.

Notes on Deconstructing Privilege

seventhvoice:

This is a fantastic post exploring what privilege is, how it is accrued and what it brings with it. I agree with it’s writer that we all have to take our turn at disrupting the train of privilege so that we might lessen the perpetual gap between the ‘heard’ and the ‘unheard’ in our society.

Originally posted on Cellar Door:

What is Privilege?

Access to information, social networks, time and money. Access to human and civil rights, legal protection and safety. This access can vary from slight to enormous.

Being seen as an individual, even if our group status strongly influences some factor about us. Having our experiences be validated as “authentic, normal or natural” by the media, the mainstream narrative and popular discourse.

Having privilege does not (necessarily) mean you are a terrible, oppressive person. It does however, mean that you have a stake in allowing your own privileged system of oppression to continue — whether that system is racism, classism, casteism, transphobia, homophobia, communalism, colonialism, islamophobia, ableism, anti-immigrant, anti-femininity, fat-phobia, anti-sex work or sexism — you gain from its continuing existence and power.

Having privilege does not mean having no pain in life. We all struggle, we all suffer. However privilege ensures a soft, foamy surface when we do…

View original 293 more words

Turning Tides of Erosion

          At the turn of the tide,

                            The ocean’s breath,

                                                              Rushes,

                                                          Breaching the beach,

                                                                                            A liquid lover,

                                                                                                            Who’s caresses,

                                                                                                                                      Smother,

                                                                                                                                                  Drowning,

                                                                                                                                                                 The other,

                                                                                                                                                                In it’s own salt filled,

                                                                                                                                                                                                 Foaming,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Motion,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   At the turn ,

                                                                                                                                                                                                   Of  a new tide,

                                                                                                                                                                      All giving ceases,

                                                                                                                                                          The rushing,

                                                                                                                                    Now hushed,

                                                                                                                       By the slow,

                                                                                                      Sucking touch,

                                                                                         Of erosion.