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The Feminine Nature
Fascinating Womanhood
"The Feminine Nature," for me, is the most outrageous chapter in the book. Here's the setup: It begins, "In the feminine nature there’s a kind of weakness, softness, and delicateness. The feminine woman is inclined to be trustful, adaptable, and fearful ... In addition, she has a spirit of sweet submission, and a dependency upon men for their care and protection. There is no male aggressiveness, competence, or fearlessness, no male air of command, no masculine strength or ability.” Because, as the author says elsewhere in the book, no man wants a woman who can "kill her own snakes." Men would surprise us with diamonds, sweet whispers and that always-elusive knight-in-shining-armor fantasy if we would simply stop doing manly things like working and wearing pants.
In fairness, this guide to girlishness is not without ideas that made me think, "Hmm, no harm there; that's easy to get behind." For instance, this chapter claims that having emotions for the innocent and suffering is a marker of femininity. Sure -- a woman doesn't lose the qualities of charity and compassion as soon as she learns how to change her own tire. But the rest of the chapter -- a real woman is fearful, weak, and dependent, free from butchy qualities like competence and efficiency -- is so ludicrous that I struggled with how to pull off a faithful show without having my husband worry he's lost me to delusions of retro insanity. At best, Brian would easily figure out that he's part of a reverse-feminist-experiment-turned-blog-post, and I wanted to keep it under wraps.
In order to pull this chapter off, I had to move its basic ideas up a few decades, otherwise believability would be nil. I wanted to unleash the spirit of this chapter on our very 21st century, egalitarian, often reversed-role marriage and see if it would still create some fascination. My goals were to adopt a softer, gentler tone and manner. Be more dependent on him for tasks traditionally considered "manly." Wear just enough makeup around the house as to appear fresh and more feminine in comparison to his burly, bearded man-face. Pepper carefully-constructed comments with words that refer to his manliness and my relative helplessness. ... A definite change in behavior, but subtle. Here are a few outtakes;
-- Just out of the shower, I noticed a spider on the bathroom floor. It was, oh, a quarter of an inch across. It was simply sitting there, menacing no one. This is where I'd normally scoop it up with a magazine and toss it out the front door, but I saw an opportunity for Brian to feel masculine. The chapter states, "Women are also afraid of unreal dangers, such as lightening, thunder [that explains that Kay diamond commercial with the storm!], strange noises, spiders, mice, and even dark shadows, much to the amusement of men.
Fascinating Womanhood
By Christy Robinson, Contributor
Monday, 14th June 2010
Writer Christy Robinson borrowed the book Fascinating Womanhood by Helen Andelin and shed her 2010 marriage for a 1963-retro flashback as a housewife. Here’s what she discovered about herself and her marriage.
"The Feminine Nature," for me, is the most outrageous chapter in the book. Here's the setup: It begins, "In the feminine nature there’s a kind of weakness, softness, and delicateness. The feminine woman is inclined to be trustful, adaptable, and fearful ... In addition, she has a spirit of sweet submission, and a dependency upon men for their care and protection. There is no male aggressiveness, competence, or fearlessness, no male air of command, no masculine strength or ability.” Because, as the author says elsewhere in the book, no man wants a woman who can "kill her own snakes." Men would surprise us with diamonds, sweet whispers and that always-elusive knight-in-shining-armor fantasy if we would simply stop doing manly things like working and wearing pants.In fairness, this guide to girlishness is not without ideas that made me think, "Hmm, no harm there; that's easy to get behind." For instance, this chapter claims that having emotions for the innocent and suffering is a marker of femininity. Sure -- a woman doesn't lose the qualities of charity and compassion as soon as she learns how to change her own tire. But the rest of the chapter -- a real woman is fearful, weak, and dependent, free from butchy qualities like competence and efficiency -- is so ludicrous that I struggled with how to pull off a faithful show without having my husband worry he's lost me to delusions of retro insanity. At best, Brian would easily figure out that he's part of a reverse-feminist-experiment-turned-blog-post, and I wanted to keep it under wraps.
In order to pull this chapter off, I had to move its basic ideas up a few decades, otherwise believability would be nil. I wanted to unleash the spirit of this chapter on our very 21st century, egalitarian, often reversed-role marriage and see if it would still create some fascination. My goals were to adopt a softer, gentler tone and manner. Be more dependent on him for tasks traditionally considered "manly." Wear just enough makeup around the house as to appear fresh and more feminine in comparison to his burly, bearded man-face. Pepper carefully-constructed comments with words that refer to his manliness and my relative helplessness. ... A definite change in behavior, but subtle. Here are a few outtakes;
-- Just out of the shower, I noticed a spider on the bathroom floor. It was, oh, a quarter of an inch across. It was simply sitting there, menacing no one. This is where I'd normally scoop it up with a magazine and toss it out the front door, but I saw an opportunity for Brian to feel masculine. The chapter states, "Women are also afraid of unreal dangers, such as lightening, thunder [that explains that Kay diamond commercial with the storm!], strange noises, spiders, mice, and even dark shadows, much to the amusement of men.
"If she shrinks from a spider, or hops on a chair at the sight of a mouse, how manly he feels that he can laugh at such tremblings and calm her fears." So, I shrieked with womanly hysteria, "Briiii-an! Come quick! There's a spider on the floor!" His wry answer from in front of his laptop, after a pause: "Seriously?" I didn't give up. "Pleeease? Come get it!" He came to my rescue with a paper towel, ready to rid me of the eight-legged offense. "No!" I cried, again with the feminine angst. "Don't kill it! Scoop it up alive and put it outside!" Bonus points for having emotions for the innocent and suffering. He mainly just laughed at my display of helplessness, probably sensing it was a PMS-induced put-on. He scooped up the spider with the paper towel ... then proceeded to freak out all the way to the front door with it in the most girlish of manners. I knew my temporary job was to help him feel more manly, but I couldn't help but laugh and ask, "What was THAT? Do that dance again!" Even with my unsupportive outburst, I thought the spider task might make him hold his square chin a little higher, but no dice. He simply laughed a bit like, "You weirdo," and went back to the living room and the great love of his life, ESPN.com.
-- We went to Brian's aunt's house to retrieve a sofa chair for his grandmother. Typically when heavy lifting is involved, I'll scan the room and assess who looks like they're most capable, willing, or desirous of lifting heavy objects. Usually a man or two or three fit the bill and I don't have to do anything. But I won't shy away from helping out if I'm asked or if I can tell that my girl-muscles can, in fact, help out. Brian and his uncle had things covered, so playing my part in the experiment would be easy. Brian's aunt -- a candidate for the "Most Lithe and Feminine Female in the History of Ever" distinction -- stood by and watched. The guys accidentally knocked over a ceramic planter on the front porch on their way to our truck. As I placed a hand on the planter to right it, Brian's aunt stopped me. "Oh honey, let them do that -- it's really, really heavy." Now mind you, I wasn't going to lift it, just right it. And "heavy" is terribly subjective, I know, but it didn't seem heavy. At all. But I decided this was a good time to play my feminine weakness to Brian's (or his uncle's) masculine strength. I obeyed Brian's aunt and stood by. Brian and his uncle wrestled the chair into the truck. With one hand his uncle turned the planter right-side-up on his way inside, without really even thinking about it. Nobody seemed to feel any more masculine or feminine than when the whole episode began. The way the book talks, men enjoy these sorts of opportunities. Brian's uncle probably thought I was deciding to rock a princess complex. I risked looking like a useless schmuck, standing next to an overturned planter, while the guys risk their brawny backs with the chair. The whole scene seemed all ... awkward and wrong. Later, at Brian's grandma's house, the whole experiment had to go out the door. I was Brian's only viable furniture-moving partner at the moment. There was much grunting, shoving, squatting, arguing. Typically I would view that as all part of the task, but I weirdly found myself wondering if Brian found me unattractive. I'd never felt self-conscious moving a chair before.
-- In day-to-day conversations, I really worked hard at softening my often strong opinions and giving Brian more latitude with his when I disagreed. I fixated my face (freshened with lipgloss and mascara) on him more often when he spoke and hung on his every word. One of our things when we're being "funny" is hurling fake insults at each other, fake-slow-mo-punching each other's face or fake-dismembering each other's arms before falling into giggles of dorkiness. Fun, but decidedly unfeminine. Instead I tried to laugh at his jokes more to make up for ceasing the fake-punches. But the fake-punch game is kind of creepy when only the man is doing it to the woman, so Brian stopped doing it, too. While I missed fake-punching each other (and am happy to report we have returned to our simulated violence), I learned a positive lesson from the day-to-day part of the experiment. It didn't kill me to simply shut it once in a while when he expressed an opinion I disagreed with. At first I interpreted my plan to "soften" my own observations and opinions as "watering them down" or "weakening" them. But you know what? It didn't feel like that at all. It's not like I have the recipe for world peace. The world (let alone Brian) doesn't need me to deliver each and every daily thought with the force of a thousand Krakens. The exercise actually helped me learn to communicate my strong constitution in a way that helps him seem to "get" me better. Which is really the point, right?
The verdict:
The chapter details how a man feels in the presence of a capable, independent woman (like a "futile, ineffectual imitation of a man") and how they feel around a feminine, dependent woman ("in the presence of such weakness, he feels stronger). In other words, men in 1963 apparently needed a lot of help with their self esteem. That's not the average man of today. I love men and feel they are important in so many different ways. But I feel no responsibility in life to help the men around me feel as manly as possible, as the author suggests is one of our roles as women. Not my job. And frankly, I don't believe men are so fragile as to need womenfolk devolving into a perpetual childlike state in order to find us attractive.
Yes, current divorce rates prove we need to explore solutions. The women's movement probably could have done a better job helping men transition into the new, non-traditional mindset we wanted them to adopt. But this chapter doesn't hold the answer. My husband grew up under Title IX, has coached girls' basketball and loved it, and was raised mostly by women. The chapter's concepts are so foreign to him that it would be like dropping a big, scary retro-bomb on his head if I tried to live it out.
-- We went to Brian's aunt's house to retrieve a sofa chair for his grandmother. Typically when heavy lifting is involved, I'll scan the room and assess who looks like they're most capable, willing, or desirous of lifting heavy objects. Usually a man or two or three fit the bill and I don't have to do anything. But I won't shy away from helping out if I'm asked or if I can tell that my girl-muscles can, in fact, help out. Brian and his uncle had things covered, so playing my part in the experiment would be easy. Brian's aunt -- a candidate for the "Most Lithe and Feminine Female in the History of Ever" distinction -- stood by and watched. The guys accidentally knocked over a ceramic planter on the front porch on their way to our truck. As I placed a hand on the planter to right it, Brian's aunt stopped me. "Oh honey, let them do that -- it's really, really heavy." Now mind you, I wasn't going to lift it, just right it. And "heavy" is terribly subjective, I know, but it didn't seem heavy. At all. But I decided this was a good time to play my feminine weakness to Brian's (or his uncle's) masculine strength. I obeyed Brian's aunt and stood by. Brian and his uncle wrestled the chair into the truck. With one hand his uncle turned the planter right-side-up on his way inside, without really even thinking about it. Nobody seemed to feel any more masculine or feminine than when the whole episode began. The way the book talks, men enjoy these sorts of opportunities. Brian's uncle probably thought I was deciding to rock a princess complex. I risked looking like a useless schmuck, standing next to an overturned planter, while the guys risk their brawny backs with the chair. The whole scene seemed all ... awkward and wrong. Later, at Brian's grandma's house, the whole experiment had to go out the door. I was Brian's only viable furniture-moving partner at the moment. There was much grunting, shoving, squatting, arguing. Typically I would view that as all part of the task, but I weirdly found myself wondering if Brian found me unattractive. I'd never felt self-conscious moving a chair before.
-- In day-to-day conversations, I really worked hard at softening my often strong opinions and giving Brian more latitude with his when I disagreed. I fixated my face (freshened with lipgloss and mascara) on him more often when he spoke and hung on his every word. One of our things when we're being "funny" is hurling fake insults at each other, fake-slow-mo-punching each other's face or fake-dismembering each other's arms before falling into giggles of dorkiness. Fun, but decidedly unfeminine. Instead I tried to laugh at his jokes more to make up for ceasing the fake-punches. But the fake-punch game is kind of creepy when only the man is doing it to the woman, so Brian stopped doing it, too. While I missed fake-punching each other (and am happy to report we have returned to our simulated violence), I learned a positive lesson from the day-to-day part of the experiment. It didn't kill me to simply shut it once in a while when he expressed an opinion I disagreed with. At first I interpreted my plan to "soften" my own observations and opinions as "watering them down" or "weakening" them. But you know what? It didn't feel like that at all. It's not like I have the recipe for world peace. The world (let alone Brian) doesn't need me to deliver each and every daily thought with the force of a thousand Krakens. The exercise actually helped me learn to communicate my strong constitution in a way that helps him seem to "get" me better. Which is really the point, right?
The verdict:
The chapter details how a man feels in the presence of a capable, independent woman (like a "futile, ineffectual imitation of a man") and how they feel around a feminine, dependent woman ("in the presence of such weakness, he feels stronger). In other words, men in 1963 apparently needed a lot of help with their self esteem. That's not the average man of today. I love men and feel they are important in so many different ways. But I feel no responsibility in life to help the men around me feel as manly as possible, as the author suggests is one of our roles as women. Not my job. And frankly, I don't believe men are so fragile as to need womenfolk devolving into a perpetual childlike state in order to find us attractive.
Yes, current divorce rates prove we need to explore solutions. The women's movement probably could have done a better job helping men transition into the new, non-traditional mindset we wanted them to adopt. But this chapter doesn't hold the answer. My husband grew up under Title IX, has coached girls' basketball and loved it, and was raised mostly by women. The chapter's concepts are so foreign to him that it would be like dropping a big, scary retro-bomb on his head if I tried to live it out.
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