sorcyress | On being a woman, weak, and weepy.

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On being a woman, weak, and weepy.

I hate crying.

I hate it more than many many things, and what I hate most of all is crying out of frustration, or over something stupid, or for no damn reason at all. I hate it because it makes me feel small, and weak. I hate it because it means I'm living a stereotype I want to avoid, that of the feeble, dainty female, who needs to be protected, and coddled, and helped along. She's not strong enough to do it herself --better let someone else take over.

Yesterday, I went shopping with mom. Part of this was a lovely trip to the bra shop, so I can actually have more than two bras that fit me well and I enjoy wearing. Sitting in the dressing room, trying on a cute little 34A -just my size!

And the cups are too damn big for my tits! I don't even know how it happened, just all of a sudden I'm sitting alone in the fitting room, trying not to sob loud enough so that someone actually hears. It's really *really* stupid --I love having small tits, it saves me a world and a half of trouble-- but it's just the defeat of wearing the smallest bra in the store, and having it gape. I know I ain't ever gonna be big and curvy and beautiful, but c'mon gods. That's just mean.

It wasn't more than a couple seconds, barely enough tears to wet my cheeks. I pull myself together, get over it, take a few deep breaths until the mirror shows a pale enough countenance to play normal. I continue shopping, the event passed, but somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I have taken a slap to the face.

Because I was crying. Over a fucking piece of *clothing*. Because I am a woman, because I am weepy, and because I am weak. That metaphorical slap trails off to join all the hundreds of thousands of minor slaps and taunts and jeers that have collected over the years in the back of my mind, a collection of laughter over how little strength I actually possess.

It's every time I drop something, or run into something, or trip over something. It's every "slow down or you'll hurt yourself", every "take a deep breath and relax". It's frustration at being lonely, being stupid, being lost and unlovable and painfully painfully insecure, and it's frustration at being so easily frustrated, and so unable to change.

It's techno fandom thinkin' I can't move baseplates for the pipe and drape. It's Target sending me away to "go get something you *can* lift -like pillows!" It's every single customer, male or female, who doesn't think I can when I offer to carry something big and heavy out to their car for them, and tells me as much. Why the fuck would I offer if I couldn't carry it, asshole?!

It's being weak, and crying at that weakness, because I'm just so tired of it. And every time I cry over something stupid, I hear society's evil little voice in the back of my mind. "Aww, look at the stupid little girl, someone better go help her."

(I cannot *stand* being helped. I'm too stubborn and prideful to ask, but more than that, it's the fact that *I'm* the one who's supposed to be doing the helping! But this is another essay)

Society laughs at me, and files me away as just another stupid weak female. Can't help you move, she's not strong enough to lift the boxes. Oh look, it's a sad part of a movie, guess we better pass the tissues! Society sees me, and judges me, and judges my entire damn gender along with me, and it sucks. I'm tired of living up to my gender stereotype.

Sorry if this is incoherent. I kinda feel like I'm about to cry.

~Sor
MOOP!

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words. i don't have words.. only *hgugles*

*cries with Sor*

The capacity to feel your pain means you're blessed with the capacity to feel others' pain, and be more compassionate. Not only that, but when you come out the other side, you'll be so much stronger for it. It goes without saying that almost everyone has body issues, and Growing Up is Hard. I also know what it's like to want to show the world that Everything is Fine, even when it's not, and wishing it were.

As for the people who say you can't lift stuff when you know you can... give them a smirk and a "There's more to me than meets the eye" sort of line.

Hang in there. *hugs*

Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you, thank you.

This was pretty much exactly right, and exactly what I needed to hear, and yeah. You are a good woman, Angie.

~Sor

Crying =! weakness. Having feelings, and feeling overwhelmed or sad or upset or whatever and needing an outlet for that, is not weak.

Bullshit.

Having feelings, even strong ones, is NORMAL. However, expressing them is seen as proof of weakness in this royally fucked-up and emotionally stunted society.

If it weren't, people wouldn't use female emotiveness as the main source of "proof" that men are stronger than women because "boys don't cry".

Don't even get me started on this rant. If I could permanently turn off my emotions, I'd do it in a second. They're nothing but pain.

(I'm case I'm not clear enough, I do NOT think that this state of affairs is how thing SHOULD be. But wishing for "should be"s is pointless when what you want is at odds with reality.)

Edited 2009-07-24 23:58 (UTC)

When I was a kid in school, I was the boy who cried. I was bullied fairly continuously from Year 4 to Year 10, because I was the weird kid, the kid who couldn't control the crying, who none of the girls wanted to touch "Eww! Kirby germs!", and who none of the boys wanted to be friends with.

My brothers were constantly asking me why I cried every day going home from school. That's not what they did. It's not what boys did.

It took moving to a completely different state to get away from it enough that I could stop being afraid of bullies. By the time I got to Uni, I used to think that I had my emotions under control.

Then Trauma struck. I had a year of hell. Now I have Trauma emotions to deal with as well.

I have to remind myself every second of every day that me feeling shitty, or me feeling emotional, does not make me any less of a man. That the fact I can't watch most comedy anymore because I get too embarrassed whenever the characters do something strange or weird to be able to watch doesn't make me less than who I was when I was a teenager. That emotional limits on my behaviour might well be a good thing, instead of something that means that my boyfriend has to watch a lot of interesting movies without me, and that I can't watch cop shows without a finger on the remote.

Maybe one day I'll believe it. But I sure as hell don't now.

I have previously lived with my emotions turned off - it is possible, it is protective - but it's also terribly isolating.

For me it was a coping mechanism around my parents' divorce - I cut myself off from sharing emotions, chose to express almost nothing, and gradually got to a point where even internally with myself my emotions didn't matter. At that time I rarely recognized feeling emotions, and could override most of them if I chose to.

During that time I also went from being outgoing, social, and adventurous to being very self-contained and rather isolated. When you don't react normally, don't express regular emotions (positive and negative)... people find it hard to relate to you. I was the strange one, though I successfully kept myself safe.

At present I have been gradually reconnecting to my emotions and dealing with the messes that result. Someday I hope to have bits of both in play when I want them - some mix of being able to tune the emotions, feel & accept them, or set them aside as needed. May take me a while, but would be well worth it.

When you don't react normally,

This is me now.

Only I'm the opposite of unemotional.

I'm one of those goddamned heart-on-my-sleeve types.

It's why I WANT to be cold and emotionless and feel nothing. Those people don't hurt. I want to feel that way. It seems so much more free than being trapped in irrationality.

I'm aware it's black-and-white thinking. However, all the troubles I've ever had in my life are related to my emotions. Get rid of them, and the pain stops... right?

all the troubles I've ever had in my life are related to my emotions. Get rid of them, and the pain stops... right?

Not so's you'd notice, no.

There's a REASON I don't fear death, despite my atheism.

Meh. I've lived at both of the extremes. I still find myself yearning for the days when I was all intensity of emotion to return; even with the pain I liked it better than the dull gray that settled over everything at the other end and won't seem to go away as I try to come back to a better balance.

Actually, the pain didn't exactly stop. A default state of 'blah' isn't quite the same as a default state of 'content'.

I am, of course, not living your life; your pain could well be worse than mine ever was, or your valuation may differ, but I hope you'll take my unsolicited advice in the spirit it's intended.

If you're "grey" you don't scare people.

When you don't react normally, don't express regular emotions (positive and negative)... people find it hard to relate to you. I was the strange one, though I successfully kept myself safe.

God, this is *so* the story of my life. Except that I've always been this way and I can't seem to figure out how to turn my emotions on to start relating to people.

Not that it's ever come up before, but - from now on, I'ma make you carry heavy things.

Or at least offer.

Works for me.

Bytheway, don't remember if I've told you or not, but I missed you at Origins.

~Sor

Bras are obnoxious. I'm currently anywhere between a 32A and a 34B depending on brand and season. Like seriously, bra sizes change depending on whether it's in fashion to be large chested or small chested.

Crying is not a bad thing. I certainly do it a lot more than you and a lot more noticeably. I think my last in-public breakdown was Wednesday when I got horribly lost two blocks from where I was supposed to be.

Also, my dad cries at sad movies. In my opinion, if (part of) a movie is supposed to be sad and it doesn't make you cry, then it's poorly done, just like a movie that's tries to be funny but doesn't make you laugh.

Also, comic strips for you re: boys crying. the first (http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1441), the next (http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1444), the climax (http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1445), and fin (http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1448). (I don't think boys should get that much flak for crying, but it's still funny.)

You're too hard on yourself. You're one of the strongest girls I know.

You're too hard on yourself. You're one of the strongest girls I know.

This, but people.

"Oh, no, you couldn't," said Annika, "he's the strongest man in the world."
"Man, yes," said Pippi, "but I am the strongest girl in the world, remember that."

This is the most impressively prescient comment I've come across in this weird haphazard livejournal reread I've been secretly (but irregularly) doing, and I thank you for it. It made me smile!

~Sor

In the future, we'll be able to tweak the levels of the various hormones running through our brains so as to support the emotional patterns and behaviors that best express our true selves. We'll also be able to adjust the wiring, if that's what it takes.

Bodies suck, in a lot of ways, despite also being fun in some ways. What they can and can't do isn't necessarily a part of *you*, and doesn't prove anything about what kind of person you are.

If that makes any sense.

I find it horrifying to imagine the present state of affairs continuing indefinitely.

I find this thought nothing less than horrifying.

Try being a prisoner in an irrationally emotional body for a few decades and you'll understand why such a treatment would be welcome.

Gods, you said it.

Hey, crying is more my thing! Stop stealing my thunder!

But seriously, I was bra shopping with a friend recently¹, one of three that takes a 36-38A² and doesn't quite fill the cup³. Can be quite frustrating.

¹ I dunno why I keep going bra shopping with people, being more-or-less male and all.

² I'd say it's weird knowing my friends' bra sizes, but see above.

³ I seem to have conversations that would make normal men blush, if there were such a thing.

3: If they got over it, it might help them better develop friendships with women. Or vice versa.

Your experience largely matches mine.

BTW, the woman behind me at the moment asks if they no longer sell AA size bras in the regular women's section of department stores.

They don't. You have to go to the 'kiddie' section for them.

Was an underwears store, not a department store, and I was having heaps of trouble finding non-bowed, non-laced, non-ruffly A sized bras *anyways*. Which, normally, I do fit --it was just the one that was fitting awful.

~Sor

Elita (http://www.barenecessities.com/Elita-Les-Essentiels-Crossover-Mini-Camisole-Bra_product_Elita6100_,search,.htm) Bras (http://www.barenecessities.com/Elita-Silk-Magic-Crossover-Mini-Camisole-Bra_product_Elita8838_,search,.htm) ftw! Is what i finally found & i love 'em!

Aren't you more fulfilling the stereotype by actually saying you're crying because you're a woman? I mean, reading this, I get the idea you'd be fine with crying if you had a penis. Which makes YOU the one stereotyping you, not anybody else.

Which means this problem could go away quite easily. :D

Having a penis and crying would not be fine. Crying is still seen as a form of weakness in this society, I have trouble with being seen as weak.

I am not crying because I'm a woman. I'm crying, and I am a woman, which lends support to society's conclusion that women = crying lots. I don't like lending support to this theory.

~Sor

Hi,

I'm not sure if this will help, but maybe you weren't crying over the bra at all--that you just needed to cry about something and that was your eyes' excuse, as it were.

I still remember being impressed you lifted and carried my big speakers that men significantly bigger than you tell me they can't carry. I hope it doesn't bother you that I imagined you couldn't carry them until I saw you do it. Then again, a friend of mine who went through Marine training camp told me that most of what the trainees gain is confidence and determination rather than bigger, stronger muscles. He was speaking of the obstacle of the wall with the rope one has to climb over which gave him trouble and nearly prevented him from completing basic training.

I've shed my fair share of tears in fitting rooms, that's for sure. It's so easy to be blindsided by brightly lit fitting rooms and the awful realization that the smallest (or in my case, the *largest*) sized thing doesn't fit. We are not normal. We have failed to live up to the clothing manufacturer's expectations. We spend so much energy trying to fit, that when we literally cannot, we fall apart.

To me, someone who feels her (or his) feelings is a person of great strength. It's not easy staying in touch with yourself--just read all the posts here. It's incredibly hard to stay plugged in. It seems so dangerous, so vulnerable. But you know what it is? It's BRAVE. It's STRONG. It's true.

Crying is in no way at all a sign of weakness. Crying is our response to feeling. Crying lets you know that you are alive, that you're in touch, that there are things out there that can touch you. As a writer and philosopher(and you are), how could you want it any other way?

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On being a woman, weak, and weepy.

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