Serving the male gaze

A woman is supposed to be seen, gazed upon, and the seer that matters the most , is a man. She fits the standards of aesthetic that appeals to a man. She is a woman, and she is written by a man. She moves carefreely, with the playfulness of a child and sensuality of a woman. She is supposed to be looked at, and that’s her value. She is a fantasy, a male fantasy. She exists, only to be seen and admired by him.

She is a representation of his fantasy, and he finds her in every woman. And when there is  demand, there has to be supply, hence she was and is constructed by many of us. Many of us, have created a version of her, that exists only to serve that male gaze, stare almost. I don’t know how many of us would accept it, I definitely am hesitant and was bit ashamed to accept that there is a version of her in me. Because how could I give in to this singular version of a woman that is accepted as ‘the woman” by a man.

Vygotsky’s theory of social development in social relationships, proposed that children develop on the basis of social interaction. He suggested that we are born with four elementary mental function, attention, sensation, perception and memory.  Our social and cultural environment allows us to use these elementary functions to develop higher cognitive functions. The zone of proximal development happens when we are helped by others. If we assume a community where boys are expected to learn and succedd while girls are expected to be pretty and mainly to be aesthetically appealing.
Both are in zone of proximal development to walk, yet the boy is provided with opportunities to practice and develop in a playroom, he is encouraged to use and explore the equipments and eventually learn to stand and walk by using those equipments. The girl also has the potential to walk but does not receive any support or encouragement to learn and explore the playroom, she is not expected by her environment to, instead she is encouraged to be looked at and encouraged to understand her role to be pretty.

Vygotsky also suggested that, Inner speech develops from external speech, by gradual process of internalization. Thought itself is developed by conversation. This would mean that the internalization of the normalization to be looked at by others, mainly the main character, a male, a patriarch, by a woman can be tracked back to a kind of outer speech and narrative, she was exposed to, at a younger age.

This theory does give the answer to my why,  yet leaves me unsettled by the manifestation of that internalization by me and by so many other women, girls.

It is unsettling because, it reduces a woman to her body parts, to an object, to a possession, an inferior secondary character, who is acceptable, as long as she is appealing to the male gaze, as long as she acts as if her purpose is to be looked at, as long as she is passively pleasing and fits the parameter of beauty set by him, as long as she is serving his gaze.

Mirror, Mirror in the Lake…

In the worlds and words of Myths,

A story of love still holds;

The Greek Myth of Echo who loved Narcissus,

But Narcissus who fell in love with himself.

Its been said that they both were cursed,

Echo could only repeat the words she heard,

It was a retribution for her lies and deceits,

And Narcissus got a taste of his own medicine.

People who loved him were never good enough for him;

One day he saw his reflection in a lake,

And got enamored of his own image ;

After breaking too many hearts, Narcissus fell in love with himself.

As often as it does, it turned into an agony,

Just like those who loved him, he could never reach and touch his reflection;

His love too was incomplete.

It was a Poetic Justice crafted by Nemesis, The Goddess of Vengeance,

Reap what You Sow,

She saw to it.


In Ancient Greek Mythology, looking at one’s reflection for too long was considered a bad omen (It does make sense as it makes you more vain).

In the next part,

Let us see what is means now to look at our own reflections, Shall we?


Script from the decade of serving others

Things and people who cause you pain are never the solution.

People who want to be you, can never be with you.

If someone disrespects your core being, no matter how much guilt afterward, they will repeat it.

Dependence on others is the poison of life.

Collaborating with people of similar values as yours, is the social interaction you need.

Weakness is seeking attention, strength is, giving it to yourself.

Choosing yourself is always right, but being an asshole is not.

You are the protagonist of your life, but so is everyone else in theirs.

Kindness shouldn’t be confused with being a doormat.

Loving is easy, Liking is not so much.

Giving people more chances than they have earned, keeps them from growing.

Liking yourself is a superpower

Being able to be by your own is a superpower.

Self reliance is the only thing, as valuable as air and water.

No-one is completely good, no-one is completely bad.

Good and bad, right, wrong are subjective.

If you are going to be a counsellor for everyone, you better get paid for it.

Therapy, healing and growth is only for people who are ready for it.

Who does not think they need help, cannot be helped.

Do not keep yourself in a situation, until you feel disgust.

Do not shrink yourself, to make others feel comfortable.

Typecasting brain

The Myth you believe in,

Right or Left brained.

Expressive creatives or logical rationalists,

Sometimes, even used to patronize,

Too emotional, and sensitive?

Or Perfectly critical and reasonable.

No wonder, it is used in the gender politics,

She will be the artist, and he will be the analyst.

The monopoly of logic and emotion, is not it.

With lateralization, both sides do perform different things,

But they communicate with each other, for the bigger picture.

While left understands the structure and technicality of the language,

The emotional features of the words spoken, is what right takes into consideration.

So if your left hears ‘sorry’, to know if it is sarcastic, you will need your right’s help.

And on that note, to all my ‘practical’ exes, I am ‘sorry’.

🙂

Choiceless awareness

The duality of life and death,
Remembering, the moment of awareness.
It was choiceless at the beginning, so it has been ever since.
All, what is light and dark,
Was and will, still and moving,
The duality of thinking and feeling,
The time passed and remaining,
Pairs as such
A problem, hence the solution,
Dualistic You and I,
This choiceless awareness.

Flow

When weakness becomes virtue,

Strength is considered evil.

When struggle is considered unnatural,

Life becomes a suffering.

The narrative of our life, is what we create.

Magic or not, is what we believe.

To believe is an active choice,

And a choice too, to change limiting beliefs.

Rigidity, is the enemy of life,

The ‘have to’, the ‘must’, the ‘should’,

They dictate the life.

Dictation is not writing your mind,

And your life, are the words that you choose to write.

Words don’t come easy, I truly understand,

But improvising is better, than reading someone’s line.

Savior wanted

Got guts to be the person you got to be?

It needs courage and capability to command yourself.

If you don’t want to obey others,

You need to obey yourself.

To be commanded by others, might feel like an oppression,

Yet, the freedom of choice creates the most anxious among ourselves.

Suppose, the oppression is the problem, and solution is freedom,

Then, why it is so dreadful, to exercise that basic right.

Freedom is wanted, but the responsibility and accountability of our decision is also in the package,

And if freedom was so desirable, then so many of us wouldn’t be so desperate for a savior.

To have to obey, you might get some pity, and even be considered virtuous,

And the ones who command, are the most despised by others.

Commanding others is so controversial,

But If you ask me,

Seeking a worthy master, is the most sensationally tragic aspect of our culture.

Way

What is the way?

I am finding mine.

How do you find the way?

I am forging mine.

How do you forge the way?

Some part I am led, some part I lead.

How are you led or lead to the way?

By walking on wrong streets, I know where to be led

By walking in wrong shoes, I know when to lead.

By walking in wrong weather, I know when to rest.

By talking to myself, I know myself,

The more I tell myself to myself,

I know, where to walk

Even if , only I, can see it,

I know that, it is my path.

Sharpening my heart, mind and spirit to understand the drive,

I am led to and can lead my way.

How can I find the way

The way does not exist, but my way is what I know

If someone promises you the way, save your time, energy and sanity.

The only way that concerns you, and only you can find, is your own.

Let me hold it for you (:

Silently observe the things you do,

Listening intently to the things you say,

Sensing the energy, you brought with you,

Nothing to judge, it is all evident.

When it is time, to tell you, what I see,

How could I lie, would you prefer it over the truth?

I hold your hand, and take you to the truth,

I showed you the mirror, and now you are mad.

Many of many came and left,

Despising the mirror and myself.

It is not personal, or is it?

Haven’t been phased at all by their reactions.

Just to this date, I carry the mirror, with myself.

Is it sass or maybe the fearlessness,

Curiously, the mirror is getting clearer, each and every day.

I know, I know, you are fuming with rage,

You despise me for holding the mirror,

But the wrath, is for what you see in there.

On the road

The sweet spot between struggle and thrive,
To still be on the journey, few more miles left behind.


Ticked some boxes, but added few,
The new goals set, while old ones almost achieved.


Who wants to reach the destination, we all know what that is,
It will be taken care of, we won’t miss the final station.


Making the most out of the journey, is to make best out of ourselves;


The secret, life told once,
I am that which must overcome itself again and again.

Note: The line in italics is taken from the book Thus spoke Zarathustra

True

I write with my hand

I write with my mind

I write with my heart

and with everything

I have, seen, sensed and heard.

It is not always easy to put it into words,

and even if it is written,

It sometimes, feel like someone else’s instructions.

But what are we,

If not same atoms, molecules, aligned uniquely.

However, I wish to be true to how my particles are aligned,

So I rejoice every time, it happens

When I could be true,

to the truest, smallest particle that holds on,

for me to exist.

Because They Bloomed

Flowers bloom and wilt

People collide and depart

This, is not forever

It is the only thing, that lasts

Annoyance and Resentment

Disappointment and Grievances

They become unnecessary one day,

They become a regret one day,

They become a guilt so big,

They become the sender of the flowers to the graves.

Those flowers wilt, because they bloomed,

The cost of the grudges, are paid by their wilt

Then, even the objections and the objectors, fade into the air,

Until the grave and the wilt, is all that remains.

P.S Here grave is a symbol, which signifies impermanence, death, memory, nostalgia and much more.