We'’ve become so familiar with our regular exchange of letters that I’ll dispense with some basic courtesies in order to make an overpowering confession. There are times when I read your letters that a strong envy begins to rise from within and takes hold of me for hours. When it finally does subside, it leaves a strong dissatisfied taste with my life that lingers on for days.
In reading your exploits I'’ve often thought you lead the life I wish I had. It's a familiar feeling and one I've not had for a very long time. When I was young I often got in trouble for my dangerous exploits and tomboy ways. In truth, I was craving the enormous freedom and swaggering independence of all the boys I knew. This past week my envy surfaced intensely. It left me searching for an explanation as to why, of all my correspondents, I have such a reaction to you. What makes matters worse is that in spite of my reaction I'm very drawn to your letters. I return time and again to re-live those moments which may be insignificant to you, but bring me so much closer to where I wish I could be. In doing so I feel the little green monster grow within me without warning.
After much reflection, I've realized tonight that its not so much your life that I envy, but rather you. In other words, I wish more that I were a man like you living your life, than a woman like me living mine. As a woman's life goes I really do enjoy mine, but when comparing mine to yours, my life pales in comparison. When it began happening I asked myself if it might be a matter of “your grass being greener”.
Simply put, my life would be radically different if I were you, than most of the men I know. For one thing, I believe I wouldn'’t be enduring as much emotional pain as I have these past few days. My blog brother Eric, spoke of the feeling of helplessness one of my posts conveyed last week. In reading that I realized he put his finger on my wound… and it was a deep one, based on the level of pain I felt. I've been wanting to do something to strike back at those that harmed my loved ones in 2001 and caused fear to enter the hearts of my co-workers in 1993.
One thing’s for sure, if I were a man I definitely would’ve had the opportunity of making different choices. I definitely would have taken more risks and liberties than would be considered (by my standards) good for a woman. I'd probably be more like your brothers in arms stationed at the front and exacting justice for what was done to my beloved friends and city. There are times I so desperately want to be there.
But the truth is painfully obvious, I can never be there, I will never be you. So instead, I live vicariously through you... through your stories, your shared anecdotes, and your unexpressed heartfelt thoughts that linger silently between the lines and which often leap silently and eloquently off your page.
I wish I could go on those hikes with you and your men. I wish I could be a man like you, who rights the wrongs with much conviction and without hesitation. But I’m not. I am a woman. A woman constrained by the expectations and mores of society, who's restrained by height and muscle mass and trapped by my gender.
So instead of being there with you and your men, I will be here, waiting. Waiting and enduring nasty emails from women too weak of character to write openly and from men using their manhood to intimidate covertly. And while I wait, I’ll continue to wish and hope. Hope that through your strength and courage I'’ll somehow regain my own strength that was lost with the death of the incredible men in my life.
I'll simply wait... it's something that as a woman I am trained to do well. Being disempowered for now all I can do is wait. So I wait, for jealousy to rise once again, and with that I take a step toward a deeper and braver existence.
Thank you for sharing your journey with me and in so doing taking me on such wonderful adventures.
m/
In reading your exploits I'’ve often thought you lead the life I wish I had. It's a familiar feeling and one I've not had for a very long time. When I was young I often got in trouble for my dangerous exploits and tomboy ways. In truth, I was craving the enormous freedom and swaggering independence of all the boys I knew. This past week my envy surfaced intensely. It left me searching for an explanation as to why, of all my correspondents, I have such a reaction to you. What makes matters worse is that in spite of my reaction I'm very drawn to your letters. I return time and again to re-live those moments which may be insignificant to you, but bring me so much closer to where I wish I could be. In doing so I feel the little green monster grow within me without warning.
After much reflection, I've realized tonight that its not so much your life that I envy, but rather you. In other words, I wish more that I were a man like you living your life, than a woman like me living mine. As a woman's life goes I really do enjoy mine, but when comparing mine to yours, my life pales in comparison. When it began happening I asked myself if it might be a matter of “your grass being greener”.
Simply put, my life would be radically different if I were you, than most of the men I know. For one thing, I believe I wouldn'’t be enduring as much emotional pain as I have these past few days. My blog brother Eric, spoke of the feeling of helplessness one of my posts conveyed last week. In reading that I realized he put his finger on my wound… and it was a deep one, based on the level of pain I felt. I've been wanting to do something to strike back at those that harmed my loved ones in 2001 and caused fear to enter the hearts of my co-workers in 1993.
One thing’s for sure, if I were a man I definitely would’ve had the opportunity of making different choices. I definitely would have taken more risks and liberties than would be considered (by my standards) good for a woman. I'd probably be more like your brothers in arms stationed at the front and exacting justice for what was done to my beloved friends and city. There are times I so desperately want to be there.
But the truth is painfully obvious, I can never be there, I will never be you. So instead, I live vicariously through you... through your stories, your shared anecdotes, and your unexpressed heartfelt thoughts that linger silently between the lines and which often leap silently and eloquently off your page.
I wish I could go on those hikes with you and your men. I wish I could be a man like you, who rights the wrongs with much conviction and without hesitation. But I’m not. I am a woman. A woman constrained by the expectations and mores of society, who's restrained by height and muscle mass and trapped by my gender.
So instead of being there with you and your men, I will be here, waiting. Waiting and enduring nasty emails from women too weak of character to write openly and from men using their manhood to intimidate covertly. And while I wait, I’ll continue to wish and hope. Hope that through your strength and courage I'’ll somehow regain my own strength that was lost with the death of the incredible men in my life.
I'll simply wait... it's something that as a woman I am trained to do well. Being disempowered for now all I can do is wait. So I wait, for jealousy to rise once again, and with that I take a step toward a deeper and braver existence.
Thank you for sharing your journey with me and in so doing taking me on such wonderful adventures.
m/
