Heroines, or not so much [other imperfections]

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A simple dream, I don't remember precisely, but one that made me think about a person's strength as unique and unmatched. Short visions of moments where I find myself alone trying to overcome fears, insecurities, crossing scrambled seas or simply loving and helping the closest ones.

In that dream I seem uncomfortable, abandoned, restless and even oblivious from reality that forces me to titanic efforts of a supernatural strength. Because being a heroine is to fight everything and everyone without losing composure or feeling pain during the world's salvation. In this dream of mine, of wich I can't remember the details, a version of me is elevated to the status of a super woman who achieves everything, discovers all, solves all and transfigures all things without messing a single strand of hair in the middle of storms, earthquakes or unreasonable cries of babies in need of full attention.

I wake up with the sensation that I'm not the only one questioning why is it demanded from women such unlimited heroism? So forced, herculean and even supernatural heroism in daily occasions repeted along the several stages of their lives? I wonder what reasons make this global society, chauvinist in its genesis, foisting on women the biggest sacrifices in the name of someone's satifactions, familiar or social well-beings when they already 'bear' the biggest heroic act: to breed life in their womb for nine months and to defend it during the physical eternity that health allows them to reach. Women grow up surrounded by rules, unrelated desires about their own future, family's hopes, social assumptions, all wrapped by what others feel to be their mission, and raised based on a greater good but not theirs.

It's not unusual, on the contrary, for us to hear some questions common to all countries, all spoken languages, being fired to single gals, commited girls, married women, senior ladies: - 'so, when do we meet your boyfriend?', -'so, when is the wedding?', -'so, for when the children?', -'so, do you have grandchildren already?', and so on...

And when some of us don't wish to be part of a social or cultural majority, having as aspiration in life a demanding carreer or a life of loving freedom or a free and different sexuality, when we don't wish to be a mother or get married but rather live without a state-owned document to aprove our love...well, when we think or live like this, we become in the eyes of others renegade ones, ungreatful to our womanhood, deprived of womanly emotions, incomplete and diminished.

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Maybe this is why I felt so lonely in my dream of being a heroine, pre-fabricated by a selfish and individualistic society which tends to see women as aliens who are born and grow up with sole purpose of bearing all, guessing everything, building all in favor of their family, their mates, their children and grandchildren, others who demand their perfection without losing composure, elegance and presenting themselves flawless in any occasion, at any moment.

Being a heroine is exausting, it demands a lot of attention, a robot-like dinamics. And no one warns us that it isn't like movies where everything ends well and no woman cries, has doubts or struggle with existencial crisis. Because, when someone writes a different script, realistic and uncomfortable, where the girl cries, has doubts, bad days, doesn't wear high heels, is self-owned, makes different and bold choices, is single at the age of 40, prefers to invest in a profissional career instead of being a mother, argues with her life partner, demands respect and equality, that person is labeled as feminist (if a woman) or gay (if a man). It seems to general population that only feminists and gays can invent such ridiculous and antisocial theories.

Being a heroin, to me, is exactly the opposite of what the majority demands from women, it's being unique and distinct, being able to plant her own garden of dreams without expecting others to do it for herself at their own will.

P.S - ' So, you plant your own garden and adorn your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you the flowers.'

by Nádia Simão