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BY HANNAH SIMS
Women. The wonder breed. A species that has inspired impulse, desire, awe, lust and agony since the beginnings of time. Impossible to understand, essential to life. We, the terrestrial angels, that have danced for eternity on the tip of the poet’s tongue.
An impossible myriad of complications, we are complexity in its definition, and oh, what a beautiful, chaotic and immeasurable mess it is to be a woman.
Daughters of the moon, in all ebbs and flows, waxes and wanes. Under our cosmic mother’s guidance our scarlet seas begin to sway their tides to her rhythm. The daughter is evolving, the cycle begins and a woman is born. Women of all shapes, colours, proportions and shades. Each woman equally as complex and unique as the next. Each with a different and significant mark of individuality.
So tell me then, why, does a woman, any woman, so rare and exquisite in her nature, desire to be different, desire to be like another woman? Why does she compare herself to her sister? Why does she not rather, desire to be recognised for those special marks of uniqueness that make her an individual? Because after all, that’s what she is, one unique, individual expression of the greater feminine.
Thanks to ongoing subtle cultural conditioning, the vast majority of humans in the western world seem to be terribly confused about many things. Confusion of ideas surrounding aesthetic attractiveness is paramount.
We exist in a world of warped ideals, one that too often confuses mainstream aesthetic echoes for true attractiveness or beauty. In this world, individualism is most feared and in turn we unknowingly oblige to consume anything that will keep us ‘aesthetically safe’ within our twisted, image based culture.
This is a place where being different is socially neglected and where comparison breeds negativity, self-doubt and emotional cruelty. As a result, here are our women, terrified of embracing their uniqueness, afraid of embracing themselves changing and growing. Women obliging to the mundane personification of the idealised “woman” celebrated across the media.
This is the very thing that divides us as women and it is here, in this division of our sisterhood that detrimental damage is done to the confidence of young girls at one of the most important times of their development. Women turning on women is one of the most poisonous, powerfully devastating and notoriously tragic stories known to man. How can the immeasurably healing, creative and supportive power of the combined feminine be known and felt in such a world of judgement?
Great power is great responsibility; I think it’s time for our all-too privileged culture to contemplate our responsibility as women, a responsibility to not only support, but celebrate one another, regardless of our shocking individuality. A responsibility to appreciate uniqueness and to celebrate those who challenge those popular ideals we’re being spoon fed for breakfast in front of our television.
Being a woman certainly isn’t always neat, glamorous and aesthetically pleasing, so what a wicked contradiction to oppress one of our own for being just the way she is; changing, evolving, emotional, hairy, bleeding, spotty, messy, vulnerable or wild. I want to see a world celebrating true, raw feminine power.
After all, isn’t beauty simply just truthful self-expression, in all of its forms? I think so.