If you’re reading this because you think I’m going to rant about how women are patronized and under-estimated because of their sex, this isn’t the post for you. If you’re reading this because you think when I say objectify that I’m getting mad for a guy thinking of a woman as only an object (which is technically the definition), then this actually isn’t the post for you either.
I’m writing this post because I believe that feminism has strayed so far off the path, that now women objectify women in their attempt for equal rights.
Confused? Wait – here’s a picture:
Apparently this magazine is qualified to decide who the most successful women are. Check out that little digital sticker with the exciting, “Who’s #1?”
So, I’m supposed to read the article where you tell me how Reese Witherspoon is successful, a slap-you-in-the-face reminder that I don’t make millions each year, that I don’t have anything near a McMansion, and I will never in my wildest dreams be that gorgeous.
Still with me?
Oprah, who’s notoriety is international beyond belief, has an article on being a great leader. Sara Blakely, who invented Spanx, allowing women to all squeeze themselves like sausages into undergarments so that we could all look like the ‘ideal’ woman, tells you how to balance career and family, while Donna Karan, the wealthy fashion icon, tells you how to land your dream job.
There’s no article on the woman that decided her dream was to be a Kindergarten teacher. There’s no article on the woman that decided she wants to know how to cook. From scratch – yeah, without directions on the back of a box. There’s no article about the woman that – heaven forbid – decided her dream was to stay home and raise her children, giving up her career in the process.
Instead we are given ‘ideals’ to measure ourselves against. How can we possibly be ok with who we are when we’re told success is measured by the likes of Reese Witherspoon and Oprah? And who decided the media was forefront in measuring success?
Because guess what? I’ll let you in on a secret. They don’t know.
YOU get to decide whether you’re successful. You, whether you’re sitting there in your high-powered suit telling corporate how to run this business, or whether you’re wearing yoga pants and rangling toddlers. You.
So you say, sure, Jenna, you’re right. I get to pick whether I’m successful, and I’m not going to compare myself to what the media thinks is successful. (This may involve taking a haitus from social media and your magazine subscriptions.) But, what is success?
I don’t know.
All I can tell you is that when my husband kisses me and I know that everything between us is ok, then I feel successful. That when my children are happy to see me and want to tell me all about their day, I feel successful. That when a friend confides in me or I finish a project that I know I gave 100% on, I feel successful.
But it goes even further. When I comfort a friend, or manage to help someone in need, I feel successful. When I decide not to take offense, and replace anger with empathy, I feel successful.
Because when it comes down to it, you decide how successful you are. You decide what your life means.
And you – you are enough.