I start this week with one more reflection, one of those that we put on paper (or on the keyboard?), more to allay our own anxieties. And who knows someone else’s anxieties around here, right? And today’s conversation is with women. Because I want to talk about demands, priorities and dilemmas that have nothing to do with the male universe. The talk is mine.
I have increasingly seen a new type of demand on women on social media. Now that the dictatorship of beauty and thinness is out of fashion, the dictatorship of hot women has kind of started. Those who work 15 hours a day, manage the company and maternity, create content and projects on social networks and all of this, of course, with impeccable makeup at the end of the day. Is it or is not it?
Maybe this has more to do with my insecurity. Turning 30 is the first time in my life that I don’t need to manage several things at the same time. Faculty and internship; work and TCC; fixed work and freela. I’ve only been in “freeland” for a year and a half and I have to confess: I’m very uncomfortable with the speech “in addition to the internet I have a real job”.
Never in my life have I dealt with so many different clients, I’ve never learned so much and produced so much creative content. But I find myself often having to justify the fact that I don’t have a “real job”. And more: I find myself having to dodge the most despicable accusation of modern times on the internet: no longer being a pretty face.
What was supposed to be a cool idea, to encourage women to invest in other aspects of life, ends up becoming more of a collection mechanism. Or self-collection. Was I just “another pretty face”? How am I contributing to the world, to feminism, to breaking stereotypes, to be the fuck myself too? Am I enough in this panorama of superwomen?
That’s where it is. As positive as this change is – we are no longer charged “just” for beauty or motherhood – there is still a pattern of desirable women. The cool, creative, hardworking and engaged woman. Sometimes we’re even that woman, but we’re so blinded by our fears and insecurities that we’ll never think we’re good enough. If we were never enough for the standard of beauty, how could we be enough for a much more sophisticated standard like this?
My proposal here is: mine, relax. Live your lives in peace, be vain if you like, be ambitious if you like. But don’t think you need to be different to be better. And don’t ever think that another woman needs to be different to be better. That you need to enhance your work in a way that diminishes the work of others.
After all, we’re all still in the same boat. We’re all taking risks here, trying to figure out our place in the world while we dodge all the demands they’ve invented for us. Instead of joining the chorus of demands, trying to look perfect, are we going to support each other?