Every once in awhile a something comes across on my Facebook that makes me cringe: a post or a share or a dramatic declaration that oozes feminism. To be clear, I should say that I don’t believe feminism to be a bad thing, strictly speaking.
Different but equal, if you will. Modern society, though, has bastardized the concept. I liken it to the ripple effect of hazing. Like when upperclassmen spend a year or more “initiating” freshmen by demeaning, disrespecting and demoralizing them so much so that when age and status place those same freshman in a position to institute change, they fall back instead on repeating an ugly cycle. I suppose that there are women who have been so unjustly treated for so long that–given a voice–they act out in ways that go beyond equality and cross over into belittling the male gender as a whole. Too far a pendulum swing for me. Whether it’s a Facebook post or a sensationalized news story or even an offhanded remark overheard in the grocery store checkout line, sentences that include both the words “strong” and “woman” tend to give me pause.
With that backstory in place, it might be easier to understand why I hesitate to say that mine is a five generation family of strong, strong women.
In late July I had the opportunity to fly to Boise for a milestone birthday gathering in celebration of my Grams. Those three days marked the first time all five generations of our family had gathered in one place since Charlie was born in May. It was a beautiful weekend during which we:
- Saw Shakespeare under the stars
- Had third row seats at Living Proof Live Boise with Beth Moore
- Spent cherished time just enjoying each other’s company
I came away from that weekend with fresh perspective on what it means to be a strong woman. I hope you don’t mind if I share.