Rescue me, sort of.

Okay, so let’s see if we can do this; clear something up, if you will. And to be extra clear, the only person demanding this clarification is myself. Haha. And, yes, I am giggling to myself as I write that; me, myself, and I are such entertainment to each other. I/we digress …

I write a lot, some might even offer ‘exclusively’, about women and the power I believe they have. True. However, let us not be witless enough to extend that observation to believe I wish the average man any harm at all. Hells no my beauties; for the love of all that is sacred, that would be horrid. No, no, my friends, I really love men. Let me try to explain.

I am exquisitely feminine, yes. I want fuchsia, I want perfume, I want glitter, I want all my senses involved in every experience, I write best when my nails are blood red and I have candles and roses, I cry equally easily in joy and pain, yes. And what else this means is that I want to be paired with the masculine. I crave its energy.

You remember that post about Outlander? Ya, I’m still watching it. Yes, I am. Don’t you dare judge me. But seriously, I think testosterone actually oozes out of the screen when you watch it. Oh dear lovelies, yes, dirt, sweat, battle, blood, strength, assertion, confidence, piercing lust; the primality of it all is sweet, sweet perfection, Please, sweep me up, and rescue me right the fuck away.

This may appear confusing, a paradox; an urgency to declare a woman’s power but also an obsession with a swift rescue in the arms of a man? Maybe. But, maybe not.

Of course, I can only speak for me and perhaps some of the others who I believe I’ve seen, but consider the life of a woman*, at least a great deal of the time. How often do we feel threat? It’s hard to know, but I think if we paid attention, it might be often. If you are a man, and you have a woman in your life, consider this: how good is she at sensing the surroundings compared to you? Who smells foul odours first? Who notices when something is decaying in the pantry? Who startles awake more often at night? Who seems to hear the kids cry before they even do? Who could close their eyes and tell you every detail of your living room and be immediately aware when the smallest of things is shifted? Her. She can.

We often laugh this off as the way of a woman or the way of a mother, but, could it be she is like this because she is on alert for danger instinctively and always? And, if so, what is unique about the danger she is trying to tune herself into? I think maybe it is to heart and soul at the very least, and sadly to more than that often.

So then, I also think that when I sit down to write, mostly ragey, pleading pieces escape from my fingertips because not only do I yearn to call my women to power, but I also ache to summon my men. I want to discern that my sides are faithfully flanked by my loyal Scottish clansmen as I stride forward in purpose. With their power beside me, I am more in my own. Now, luckily, I do have these men, of course I do. I do. I see you, I know you are there, I love that you are, thank you. Of course, I most certainly married the best of them. I wish this for all women who wish for the same.

As a man, if you’ve read this far and are intrigued, you might wonder, how do I join these admirable ranks? Honestly, if you are wondering this, hon, you’re likely already there, we thank you. But to be certain, here’s what I think the secret is: we women want to feel that if we were being threatened by some source of evil, you wouldn’t hesitate a bloody goddamn second to step up and maim that motherfucker. Ya, that’s right. But, that’s not it. What is it, is that you would do this, but not because you felt us weak. Not because you didn’t think we could slay that asshole ourselves. You would do this because when you completely and utterly revere something you are drawn to protect it, fiercely.

Indulge me in another pop culture example. The Queen’s Gambit. Now she goes through some shit, eh? There are some demons that writhe inside and need taming, yes? She’s obviously a goddamn goddess though, concur? Right. And she sorts it all out. Yup. But that scene where she is eye to eye with her greatest challenge and she has her sides flanked by those who love her and see her, that’s the nugget. That’s how we are to work together here. Getting it now?

Or have I confused you further? Again, most of you who are still reading are likely just nodding away and smiling knowingly, thank you.

So, let’s summarize. A newsreel celebrates a man who did something in history but also murdered a woman? Slay. Your daughter flexes her creative spirit but is told it’s not quite right by her teacher? Armour up. Your wife comes downstairs after another meeting that has left her empty and tired, dejected and angry? Push her up against the counter, look her in the eye, and ask what to put in your sight. Properly reinforce a woman and you’ll watch her step into her grace and power, in part, because of yours. The rewards will be rich for you both.

My last observation I’ll offer is that, those battlefields above will be the easy ones. Where you both may struggle more is on the field of intimacy. For one, if you find yourself lucky enough to be in any woman’s army, you must clearly know that that doesn’t mean she has any desire for you to be near her bed. If you have any hope of real intimacy with her you must understand this in your core. Once you do, however, well, lucky you. Now, if, however, you are the glorious Scotsman (see what I did there??) who gains entry to the lair, you will come to know that this is where you may be most called to fight. Because this terrain has a rich history, it is prone to hauntings and certainly has its fair share of land mines. It may very well be the last place she rises to exert her rule. Not a place for the faint of heart. You may come there in full enchantment, as does she, but don’t forget her senses can fool her. They can lapse briefly towards danger, they can loop back the wrong way around. Be wary of this, reassure them, draw her goddess forth. Remember she wants protection, not out of concern of weakness, out of reverence.

So, hopefully, there we have it. How women can demand power whilst also desiring protection. How men can provide protection whilst also servicing power. Easy peasy, yes?

xo

J

[*Ok, sidebar. I can only speak to my own twisted little thoughts. So, I’m mostly talking to ‘you’ as if you are a man. Which of course is a vast generality and not applicable to a beautiful ton of situations. However, this is where I’m at. Similarly, I can’t speak to how men feel. Duh. But let’s just agree to hear me out about this one sliver of the population who might know what it is to feel what I’m talking about and the other sliver of the population who reveres them.]

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