We often ignore the indifference of men and dive headfirst into their lives, filling all the empty space with a curiosity, an empathy, that isn’t shared.
It was all my insecurities manifested as some sort of Dali-esque nightmare…the makings of a surrealist film that Women’s Studies majors would go to town with.
Society has built up a problematic narrative where the ideal woman acts in a very particular way: she doesn’t care about superficial things (make-up, fashion), yet always manages to look and feel perfect despite that. Call it Jennifer Lawrence syndrome, if you will.
Am I supposed to believe that the same woman who asks us to “bow down bitches” wants us to nix the supposedly dirty word that is bossy? It just doesn’t add up.
Growing up ‘girl’ is not all tea parties and lavender scented day-of-the-week panties. It isn’t easy, or subtle, or clean—it isn’t in the realm of femininity in which we’ve been taught to remain. Though a new photography exhibit claims to be ‘disrupting’ these preconceived notions, I argue that it’s just caving to a similar strain.