Have you ever heard this kind of a remark?
Well, he’s a career man.
I haven’t. Not once in my twenty-one years of existence. There’s no such thing as a “career man”. Because men are just men.
How many times have you heard equivalents of this one, then?
Oh, her? Well she’s always been a bit of a career woman, you know.
It’s pretty common.
Apparently, there is such a thing as a “career woman”. And she scares the bajeezus out of traditionalists.
It’s not hard to imagine why that might be. A career woman is strong. She has money. She’s independent. She’s ambitious. She’s smart. She’s not a blond Barbie doll. She’s got interests far beyond a husband, kids and a clean kitchen. In short, she’s all the things that your average chauvinist DOESN’T want a woman to be.
Ergo, the prejudice.
I’ve heard them all.
“Never marry a career woman”.
“She’ll quit when she gets married”
“She’ll quit when she has a second child”
“Career women are great in bed but they make terrible wives”.
“Forget about kids if you marry a career woman”
“Women just aren’t meant to be career-oriented”
“Career woman are just deceiving themselves”
The whole rigmarole of unsolicited “advice” from playacting macho idiots who never learned to make their own tea. The whole truckloads of sneering, contemptuous, condescending comments, which I’m supposed to support, by virtue of being male.
The juggernaut of prejudice grants no quarter. It takes over the imaginations of millions of people, esconces them in it’s own cozy comfort, and builds a beautifully simple world-view which needs no effort to understand at all.
I am sick of it.
And I proclaim my irritation here.
Want to know what kind of woman I really like?
It’s NOT that cute brunette with an IQ lower than my microwave.
It’s that woman who doesn’t fit in.
It’s the woman who doesn’t feel the need to dress up like a helpless doll every day, just to impress a biased, blinkered society.
It’s the woman who has confidence enough to flip the finger at the same society.
It’s the woman who can be a REAL partner, not a doormat.
It’s the woman who’s got that intense, burning, searing FIRE in her belly.
It’s the woman who’s got that NEED to do well.
It’s the woman who can understand MY own fire.
NOT support it. Understand it. Feel it. Live it.
The woman who can completely chill out when it’s time to.
The woman who DEMANDS her due.
The chauvinists can have their Barbies.
All I need is a sparkling mixture of strenuous work and strenuous fun, and the sharp,bespectacled girl who can do full justice to that heady cocktail with me.