Is there such a thing as a different breed of woman? Does the “new times, new woman” philosophy really hold true to life as it is today? I think that I have grown up in a time very different from that in which my mother grew up, and while I appreciate having a refrigerator, a dish washer and all the fancy things you could ever think of, I am curious to find out whether the woman of today is in any way different from the woman of yesterday. I lie about my grades, every time someone asks me what I scored on what test. Instead of giving them a grade figure higher than what it really should be, I give them a figure many times lower than what I actually scored. And the reason I do this is because last year, when I was dating a wonderful, handsome man, he called one day and decided to "end things.” The reason he gave, and I have to applaud him highly for being very honest, the reason he gave was that I knew more of Aristotle and Plato than he did, I dreamt like Picasso, and I read Emerson in every word that I touched. Basically, what he was saying was that he was not comfortable with the fact that I seemed to be doing better intellectually than he was, so he damped me!
When I look back at this incident, it almost seems like something to laugh. But it really isn’t. Learning new things has always been a passion of mine, and I thought that the world loved smart girls and reasoning women, I thought the world celebrated these gifts. What man wouldn’t want a clever lady by his side, a lovely trophy to show to the world? Turns out some people do not want you to be too smart. And I watch this everywhere I go; my classes are like my laboratories, I sit and I watch people and I learn their attitudes, reactions and feelings. No one wants a smart-ass woman.
I could be wrong, of course I could be wrong. My conclusions may be based on observations null and void, but is it not true, Dear Men, that you cannot stand a woman who is more successful than you are, a woman who makes jokes funnier than yours. Is it not true that you quickly grow to loath and hate a woman who out-smarts you, who seems to know more than you do, earn more than you do, work better than you do: you simply hate the disparity. And with good reason too. If I was a man I sure would hate a woman who was driving a better car than I was. Where is a man’s place in a home if the mortgage is paid by the woman, the bills are handled by the woman, the better job is taken by the woman, dear God, I think maybe we have displaced the men and they have no more place to occupy in our lives.
Gone are the days when the man was the bread earner, the woman a home builder. It made a man feel like a man, he had a purpose, he felt needed, wanted, desired and required. Now, there is really no need for the man if you can handle all of your affairs by yourself, Dear Woman. It is no fault of mine that I like to be the best at everything that I do, it is no fault of mine that I will excel in all matters wide and small and no one dare stop me. But I do miss the golden days in which my mother grew up, I miss the days when the woman was humble enough to let the man take all of the credit for everything that she herself had done, and not utter a word about his innate frailties and massive failings. I miss the days when men felt like men and women felt like mothers, when there was a need for man and woman alike. Times have changed and they are changing fast. It is not my fault that I am smart and choose to be better than everyone around me, but it is sad that I will be judged as too head-strong, too opinionated, too hot-headed, too much to say in too much a brain. I will continue to lie about my grades, and I will forever down play my excellence; but for how much longer can I go on with such unnecessary deception. Of course you will say there are people out there who have made it work, blah, blah, blah. The next time a man rejects me because I weave better sentences than he does, the next time the boy refuses to sit next to me in conference because he knows that I tramp all of his un-proven arguments, the next time I am looked down upon because of the abilities that I cannot help; I think that maybe then I will just come to a final conclusion that times indeed have changed and I’ll be damned if I don’t miss the good ol’days when women did not try to fight for the trousers in the wardrobe, the good ol’days when women knew they were smart, excellent and brilliant, but pretended to be submissive, docile, yielding and tractable. I sure miss the good ol’days when women were not so quick to show the men that they were bigger and better, in words, ways and Acts arrogant and proud. I sure miss the good ol’days and envy my mother who lived through such gentle deception. It is one thing to know that you are better than the next man and shout it out on the roof tops, inviting anger and jealousy. It is another thing to let the next man take full credit for your wonderful creations, if only for there to be peaceful existence between the two of you, if only for there to be a sameness of sorts. Because at the end of the day it does not matter how good you are at what you do with life, it does, however, matter how well you use that goodness to uplift the person sitting right next to you.
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