The Female Experience? No Clue

I concluded last week's essay with a promise to continue exploring the challenges and complications women face in this new, post-revolutionary culture. There was only one problem - I'm not a woman. I ignored the most important lesson of writing; Write What You Know. Who the hell am I to presume that I know anything about the Female Experience? After all:

 

I have no idea what it's like to have a father who was just a little bit disappointed that I was a girl instead of a boy.

 

As a teenager, I never had to worry about my "reputation." I never gave a moment's thought to the enduring double standard in which a boy who sleeps around is a Hero, yet a girl who does the same is a Slut.

 

As an incoming freshman in high school, I never had to worry about upperclassmen preying on me because I was "fresh meat." As a boy I could only wish.

 

I have never had to watch countless commercials or thumb through thousands of magazine ads telling me how my body, hair, and makeup should look, or what clothes I should wear. All I have ever had to do is shower regularly and show up.

 

I have never had to worry myself with the mysteries of menstruation - the unknown, the moods, the waiting, the fear, the endless repetition. I just knock on wood repeating, "Glad I'm a dude, glad I'm a dude, glad I'm a dude . . ."

 

In college, my personal safety wasn't a concern whenever I walked back to the my dorm room or apartment alone after sunset. Why should it have been? Who would have thought to harass or attack me?

 

I haven't had to be anxious about the ravages my body will undergo during pregnancy and childbirth, let alone communicate to a partner that I will never look quite the same again.

 

I have never heard the words, "You give all your love and attention to the baby, but leave nothing for me." But I have said them.

 

I have never had to return to work after giving birth - let alone try to explain to a spouse why some things temporarily "had to give" (i.e. the marital relationship) because I was completely consumed with separation anxiety, guilt, being a food supply, post-partem blues, baby weight, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

 

I have never been in a position where I was paid less than a woman who held the same job as me. Hell, such an inequity has never occurred to me. But guys, could you imagine if the tables were turned? Me neither.

 

In the workplace, I have never had to conceal my masculinity to be effective or taken seriously. The hypocrisy of The Hard Ass vs. The Bitch never crossed my mind.

 

I've never had to worry about aging the same way a woman does. After all, my culture says men become distinguished-looking, whereas women just get old.

 

Now I have a daughter who is becoming a young woman. While I do not want her to bend to these stereotypes, double standards and unfortunate realities, I do want her to be aware of them in ways I never was. But her awareness doesn't simply have to lead to her conformity. The dramatic changes of the last Sexual Revolution paved the way for her to lead a life of her choosing and no one else's.

 

But for her sake, this Dad is still going to be her shelter from the storm. After all, the times still are a changin'.