I always remember being independent....as a child, my parents called it "mouthy". I had an opinion, I could take care of myself, I didn't need help... as an adult, my pa calls it "overbearing". I don't know where these tendencies began....but I can look back and see how it was honed.
I remember coming home from school in 3rd or 4th grade. I had been teased mercilessly that day and I never wanted to go back. I had had to get a bra (the earliest in the class) the teasing that followed pushed me over the edge. I had been teased daily about my looks and my weight...I was ALMOST handling that....but this particular day I couldn't handle it anymore (the girls were even worse than the boys). (As I write this, I am crying...old wounds can be so deep). I was (and am) very sensitive. Words slice through me like razors...I have tried to ignore them...but when you grow up learning how important the "word" of God is and how He created everything by speaking it....it is hard to separate this from sticks and stones may break my bones...but words will never hurt me. Words hurt me...the said ones...the unsaid ones...I came home looking for support (all I wanted to do was cry, be hugged, and told that they were wrong and it would be ok)...in return I was told to tough it out...suck it up. (Incidentally this reasoning is how I am walking around today with a deformed knuckle...but that is another story). Another (one of many) I asked the man I was dating to help me with my kayak....we had confirmed the night before...I ended up doing it by myself....he went to lunch with a friend instead. Through this, I learned that I could only really count on myself. Strangely this repeats itself through out my life...when something happens...I stand strong...alone...whatever that is out there hurting me, cutting me...I must defend myself, protect myself...there is no one out there to do it for me...so I must. It is survival. But what I really want...actually... really need...is someone to hold me, let me cry it out and tell me it is going to be ok...that I am worth fighting for.
This morphed over time to not asking for help unless I could not find anyway else to do it myself. Often it was hit or miss if people said they would help and if the even follow through with it. It became worse as I wanted to learn to lean a little on the men in my life. I found that it hurt more when I was involved with that person...I had an expectation that they would help me (I don't ask often). Many times I was let down...it was very frustrating. I remember being so stressed out before the store opened...that I shared my fears and needs with a friend (whom I trusted myself to maybe be vulnerable with--I was wrong)...I was vulnerable (which is not a comfortable spot for me to be in---when you are your own protector and you are vulnerable--there is no one to back you up). He made a joke and told me to have this guy whom I am creeped out by help me. Talk about lack of support....(my fragile vulnerability jumped right back into the turtle shell...layers between me and the world...I felt moderately safe again)! The times in my life where someone has helped me without me asking have melted my heart and made me mushy inside. The strong, independent girl has had a hard time reconciling that. But, what I really want is for a man to be strong so I can be mushy on occasion and not worry about my vulnerabilities.
So here is my connection between feminism and chivalry. They are by no means mutually exclusive. Both are about respect. And about having my cake and eating it to. I want to be my own person, make decisions and compromises, and know that I will have the support at the end of the day....the man to protect me from the world...because...I am tired.
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