Feminism is a word wrongfully synonymous with male-condemnation and gender based extremism discloses its misunderstood head once more, not to reprehend you for immaterial faults as to how one is addressed, but to observe interpretations and theories regarding the imbalance of males to females in adept recreation.

Straying from the type of piece examining the womanly underdogs, this feature’s research was conducted completely in an analog fashion, citing and gathering erudition from distinguished authors and factual literature; a demonstration of the conviction that for a woman’s efforts to be of any value, they must work twice as arduously as our male counterparts.
Contrary to the world by which we know it, with all social norms intact, fables and legends have circulated worldwide anent to a realm in which the woman is the all powerful being, testimony to the beauty of nature and magic of creation.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes precedents of such a woman in her publication of Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype.

The wild woman was, at the time, comparable to the wolf, relaying that they were “relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mate, and their pack.” The reason is unknown, but it is proposed that an event came about that in its breadth elected the man to be the superior gender.

From then on, the men took on the role of hunter and gatherer, and decided that women’s skills in empathy and spirituality were best confined to the home. Humble household tasks replaced the wild woman’s feats galavanting with gods, until they knew no instincts but to submit to anyone who commanded them, as they were for sure above her.

Estes addresses the approach, composing, “I’ve seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write… and you know it’s a funny thing about house cleaning… it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman.”

Spectators would prefer to perceive a woman carrying out her “womanly duties” rather than view her to hold an authority or worth; and those loyal sisters who wish to support their common sex cannot make the time to pay them mind, such as viewing them on television, as they are obedient first and dutiful second.

Estes conceives, “Though her soul requires seeing, the culture around her requires sightlessness. Though her soul wishes to speak its truth, she is pressured to be silent.”
“Because, frankly, I have a tough time feeling that feminism has done a damn bit of good if I can’t be the way I am and have the world accomadate it on some level,” Elizabeth Wurtzel writes in her controversial, yet best-selling diatribe, Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women.

Wurtzel writes an argument that due to domestic conditioning, women have been indoctrinated into a belief that they must be fragile and, for lack of a better term, “feminine,” the only cure to this inequity being rebellion, such as adapting to the behavior commonly reserved for men. However, this philosophy cannot be attained by everyone, leading to accustomed disorientation when faced with the sight of the modifiedly submissive sex engaging in activities reserved for the dominant, such as violent sports.

The unit representatives perform in nearly the duplicate amount of events, if not more, but due to their inadequacy to draw even a tenth of the gallery that male-dominated junctures can, the same fraction is used to determine the female affiliate’s compensation. A solution has yet to be recognized, and in a culture where reserved, well-mannered Audrey Hepburn is the paradigm of that which humankind wishes all women to embody, it is doubtful that a nonconforming , bolder woman will surface with her capabilities considered before her gender.
No two subjects could be considered more contrasting than modern poetry and incarnate gaiety, however Amanda Lovelace’s The Witch Doesn’t Burn In This One confirms the two to be one and equal.

Lovelace, in her verse collection writes, “women don’t endure simply because we can; no, women endure because we aren’t given any other choice.”

She writes of a coven, hidden from the world just as feminists are secluded from appearance, where they are free to take pride in their femininity and punish those who degrade them. Female sport players are just like that of the coven, who rebel against societal mandates, daring to be forceful.

The men will encourage their same sex, in hope that all womanly figures will fade away, affording no chance that they shall be overthrown, as is inevitable.

Simply scorning all women will not guarantee security, and as Lovelace inscribes, “I bleed twelve weeks a year, so I know a thing or two about bloodstains.”
How to draw to a close, I am at a loss to comprehend. I am unable to put this issue to rest, as it is very much alive and vibrant. Years could be spent relaying all cases of gender-specific injustice, an operation that would be equivalent to that of constructing a Penrose triangle, so rather than creating endless rhetoric and entertaining the warped image that the ignorant have of feminists, motions should rather be set.

As a person, a woman, with a voice however small, I advocate that you promote the brave women who endeavor to dare to oppose the ignorance that has encapsulated them and those before them for millennia, and by saluting them, you salute this revolution.