Noting like missing a deadline to get the juices flowing. I signed up to participate in the The Beauty of a Woman Blogfest VI, hosted by August McLaughlin. Thanks for the invite, by the way. Sorry this is late.
My answer to “What is The Beauty of a Woman”, is simply, Beauty isn’t a noun, it is a verb. It isn’t how a woman looks, but how she lives.
Ok, follow me on this. It might seem like I’m going off topic, but I’ll bring it back around, you’ll see.
Years ago, my wife had a discussion with some fellow writers. One man spoke of women, not in that overt sexist way where lustful contempt drips from every word, but that covert condescending way, where women must be protected. That “I’d never hit a woman,” when no one had brought up the subject. The “Me thinks he doth protest too much,” kinda way. My wife stayed out of the fray as much as she was able. Until he said “No good father would let his daughter be a stripper.”
He noticed the look on her face. “What? There is no way Oz would let his daughter do that.”
“Yes, he would, because it would be her choice,” she said.
“Well, he must not have daughters.”
“He has two.” Then she stared him down, daring him to challenge her further. I have yet to witness anyone accept that challenge. Other than me, that is. But I don’t have a sense of self preservation, sooo.
When my wife relayed this conversation to me, my first thought was “Let?” How the fuck is what she does with her life in any way up to me? Sure, half her DNA comes from me, but when that half merged with that of my wife’s, it created a unique and autonomous person. A person with her own desires and dreams, her own challenges, her own life. Currently, she is my responsibility, but she is not “MY” daughter. She does not belong to me. She belongs to herself. And I hope I will have raised her in such a way that she will always remember that. Always have the courage to demand it. And always have the strength to dismiss anyone that doesn’t accept it.
Hell, I don’t care if she wants to dress up like a Muppet and rub up against other Furries. I don’t give a shit if she pays her way through college doing internet porn. And, more importantly, it doesn’t matter WHAT I think. It is her body to use as she will, when she will, in whatever way she chooses.
And what the hell is wrong with stripping anyway? Yes, there is a bevy of women that strip for dubious reasons, but that doesn’t mean ALL strippers do. I’ve only been to a couple strip joints, but I’ve noticed two types of strippers, The Broken, and The Confident. The defining difference is not the WHAT they do, but the WHY they do it. Is that woman up there because she is desperate and broken, constantly seeking approval by begging for your dollar? Or is she up there because she is so confident and empowered that she demands your dollar for the privilege to see her? If you don’t think this difference exists, go to a burlesque show sometime. Burlesque, though abstractly similar in form, is far different in function. And, they are typically damn fun shows to boot!
I feel it is my job as a parent, not to pilot her life, but to help keep her even-keeled. It is her ship to sail, her journey to take, and if that journey happens to lead to stripping, or burlesque, or even Pony Play, so be it.
So, if my daughter lives her life as a physically healthy, mentally sound, and emotionally fulfilled woman, be she a doctor, or lawyer, or even stripper, she will be beautiful indeed.
Anyway, thanks for reading,