I didn’t realize that I dreamed of the Cinderella fantasy until I got older and looked back. As a child, it was one of my favorite films, constantly on repeat. I had Cinderella paper dolls, play shoes, and I always dreamed of wearing that gorgeous blue dress. When I grew up and started to compete in pageants, at that point, I was able to play Make Believe in the ball gowns. However, there was still an aspect of the Cinderella story that I was missing.
As little girls, I think that we all fantasize the Disney fairytale. So many times I
felt like I was a princess waiting for whatever my future held. Not necessarily a man, but knowing that I was going to be a great person no matter what I did. In the process, that would include a magical prince willing to whisk me away into the sunset of a better tomorrow. He would love me, cherish me, look up to me for the admirable woman I’d become. Then, I understood, my thoughts, my fantasies, were just that. A fantasy.
During my twenties, I realized that all men are evil. Not some, not a majority, but all men. Even the nice ones were evil for being taken, or maybe for living somewhere that wasn’t feasible for my career choice or for actually living an eventful life. Date after date, search after search, catcall after every derogative and degrading catcall, I noticed that something was wrong with all of them.
In the beginning, I thought that maybe it was me. In middle school, I was picked on because of my early signs of acne before anyone else. In my mind, I thought that my ugly phase carried into adulthood. However, that didn’t seem to make sense to me because men flocked like lost sheep. Fine. Maybe it was my attitude. Possibly they didn’t like my sarcastic nature and the fact that I wasn’t a damsel in distress. Negative. They commended my independence and unclingy nature. So, what could it be? Was it the fact that I didn’t want to be a housewife and make sure that they had a warm meal waiting for them each day when they got home from work? Well, that’s up for debate, but I’m sure that wasn’t the reason for their constant male-dominated stupidity.
Men are like babies. Their vision has not yet developed and they only see the bright shiny things dangling in front of their faces. After becoming a pageant girl, I started to receive a ridiculous amount of interest. Guys who I once dated kept coming out of the woodwork. They wanted to talk about the pageant and how beautiful and amazing I was for having city and regional titles and to wear a crown, blah-blah-blah. Then, there were the men who I never dated but now had a reason to contact me because I was Miss so-and-so. At this point, I realized how moronic they all were. They were willing to do any and everything to have a chance to play with the shiny toy dangling in front of them. I guess I was just a dull yo-yo before. Regardless of my newfound credentials and their desire to have a trophy sitting on their arm, the amount of respect didn’t increase. Male ignorance was way too persistent.
Over the years, I’ve noticed a pattern of the male behavior. So many times I sat crying in my room, writing poetry to hash out my feelings and hope and pray that maybe one day God would send me my soulmate. Well, as of today, that has yet to happen, but in the process, I’ve been able to gain a number of experiences. Some hilarious even after what felt like defeat. Thank goodness for Sex and the City and those stories to help the rest of us for not feeling like lost whores.
In these writings and through my adventures, I hope to inspire women like myself: those who feel lost and as if they were the ones who always messed up the relationship. Believe me, if you’re not crazy, I’m sure that it’s not you. Of course, many times, the men drive us crazy, but we’ll discuss that a little further down the road. Until then, we, as women, must stick together and build our confidence off of one another. We can only be brought down if we allow it, and we should never allow for a man to have that much power. We’ve gone through pregnancies, monthly cycles, divorces and breakups, screwed up family situations, abusive relationships, health issues, and the weight of Eve all weighing on our shoulders and we want to let some penises step in the way? I don’t think so.
Welcome to the Garden of Eve.
Brooke Leigh Howard 