A Woman's Place

When I ask this question of myself: "What is my place?" the answer comes straight out of the first scene of Napoleon Dynamite: "Whatever I feel like, Gosh!"




As the title suggests, some people feel that a woman's place should be dictated to them.  Whenever I hear blatant misogyny or even subtle, insidious sexism, I am fascinated.  Instead of feeling threatened, as I did when I was younger and less sure of myself, I find myself wondering how it happens that one person feels superior to another.

Since we are all worthy of love, worthy of joy, and meant to know it, how does sexism play into that bigger story?

What was this person's upbringing?

What stories define their view of women?

How can they let go of old stories?


I wish I could suggest a simple way for men and women with this particularly damaging story to heal from it.  Since I can't, I hope to do what I do best--share stories and reframe the events to share with others.

Over and over again, this has been my path to remembering my own innate worth.


 
Just as a stream turns over the soil, washes away muck, and nourishes the life around it, perhaps words, flowing in just the right path, can wash away thoughts that smother and contain, and thereby breed the desire to smother and contain others. 






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