I have a really hard time saying the word "feminist" without chuckling. Or upchucking. Talk about a misnomer. These are generally the least feminine creatures on the planet. But putting aside my own amusement, I've thought about some of the garbage they have brought us in the name of "feminism." I was a teenager in the 60s, so I do remember the big brouhaha over Sex and the Single Girl, The Feminine Mystique, and other such nonsense masquerading as "liberation" for people who were never not free to do whatever they pleased in the first place. My theory then, which no one has ever disproved to me, is that these were unhappy, self-centered, often ugly both inside and out cranks who could never get a man to look at them, let alone marry them. So they decided to become a victim group. Pretty successfully I might add. But oh, what we lost in the process.
I grew up in a family and community in which men were still men and women were still women. My dad and uncles and grandfathers would have blanched at the thought that any wife of theirs would have to work outside the home. They grew up knowing it would be their honor, duty and privilege to support their wives and children, and to ensure that their precious offspring would be raised with love and caring by their own mothers. "Feminists" pooh-poohed that idea of course. Why should they stay home and slog through the days with these annoying small creatures when they could be out working in some corporate paradise or becoming automotive engineers or dermatologists or professors of various "studies?" Oh no, how dull it would be (if they should ever have the opportunity) to look into big blue eyes which look a lot like yours and see Heaven looking back. I don't mean it would never be Hell. Nothing like a house full of sick, cranky kids and no groceries in the house and laundry piled up to the sky and dust on every surface to give you a glimpse of the latter. But even then, I'd never have wanted the sick kids to long for Mommy's touch and get anyone else's. I knew it was all temporary and the rewards so far outweighed the negatives that it was never a consideration. Not be home with my babies? Bite your tongue--and me.
Back then, men really did take pride in their ability to support their families, and they did not remain eternal teenagers who want their wives to work so they can buy video games and toys. The femmies stripped the purpose from many of the men of that age. They also robbed women of the opportunity for the most selfless and growth-inducing experience anyone can have. Having, and then RAISING, children. For those who didn't want children and therefore didn't have them, I say fine. Whatever floats your boat. My problem was always with the women who had them but refused to raise them or even pay much attention to them, or who bought into that insane idea that ten minutes was good enough, as long as it was QUALITY time. What a big, fat crock. Your kids do not care about quality time, they want TIME, with you there, available if not always engaged (they do need to learn to play by themselves, but mine would come and check every now and then, to see where I was). In fact, quantity is what they crave. They go very fast, those early days, and sooner than you can believe they are bringing your grandkids over. There are those eyes again, sometimes brown, sometimes blue, looking into yours and delivering Heaven right into your soul again. Too bad so many of you missed it. Yes, the femmies tried hard to deny there are differences between men and women, girls and boys. They all wanted to be men, apparently, and that left the men to stay little boys. I see so many couples in their 30s and 40s who seem to focus mainly on how much money they can make so they can buy more and in the process they do not even know who their kids are. How would they? Someone else is parenting them.
One One of the worst legacies of "feminism" is now the second generation of disconnected, depressed, unattached children. Crime among the young is up, up and up. They didn't bond with a loving parent in infancy, nor in toddlerhood, nor in childhood. And then it was too late. I remember reading Stanton Samenow's book Before it's Too Late, and thinking how it really WAS too late for so many kids. I see many families where there seems to be no affection, love, caring, interest. But they all have the Wii and the parents are playing it too. Just a big ol' buncha kids, all living in the same house.
As in my last post, here's some homework for you. Research Ken Magid's work on kids who kill. Disconnected children have no conscience, no capacity to love others or have empathy for them. These are things learned, literally, at Mother's knee. The old poem which posits that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world is exactly right. Unfortunately, thanks to the most decidedly unfeminine femmies, no one is rocking many of the cradles at all today. Kids are neglected, sacrificed on the altars of "self fulfillment," careers, money, toys, anything at all to take the place of being with the children one has produced. Many of our children are jaded and cynical at very early ages. The one thing that seems to help is religion, but then many of the people who are religious are also already taking care of their kids. I don't know what the answer is, for the many selfish adults are apparently incapable of changing into parents who truly adore and care for their kids, rather than just being overgrown kids themselves who live in the same house but don't act as parents. I don't know that there's an answer, but I do know where a good deal of the blame for the sad state of our children lies.
You might check out Miriam Grossman's book, Unprotected, about what the myth of their being no difference between males and females has done to our young people, especially those in college. It is a sad, sad commentary. For anyone who wants to know if being home with the babies is worth the hassle, I'm here to tell you that for me it was. I am a wife, a mother, a grandmother, an RN, and so many other things, but the role that stands out as being the richest and most fulfilling, if also the most aggravating and frustrating at times, is definitely Mom. And I have the little angels called grandchildren to prove it. To quote Dr. Laura, if you don't wan t to raise them, don't have them. The rest of society always pays the price for your little psychopathic progeny.
FOOTNOTE: My apologies for the inconsistencies of indenting/not indenting. Townhall has managed to send me the capricious typing gremlin who won't let one do things, like indent ALL the paragraphs or not leave two spaces between some of them, that one might want to do. .