Shopping list for Breast Cancer patients

When I was first diagnosed, my friends, family and colleagues wanted to help and bought me things that make me smile. I still use them now and they have kept my spirits up throughout this journey. I am aware however that finacially, I’m pretty stable and others going through this process may not be. If this is the case, there are lots of small things that are needed, which all add up. Even if finacially they’re not a burden, the effort and thought needed to source them can be tough. So I’ve put together a list (who doesn’t love a list) of the things I’ve needed along the way that I didn’t think about when people asked me what I needed at the beginning.

Chemotherapy list

  • A thin poncho for chemo days
  • Acetone free nail polish remover
  • Dark nail polishes (something to do with preserving your nails by protecting them from UV light? Not sure how much science is there but all the women I know swear by it.)
  • Rich tea or malted milk biscuits – for when you’re hungry but can’t stand the smell or taste of anything
  • Sour friuty chewy sweets – I would have thought this was the last thing I’d want, but a fellow chemo patient gave me some and they were the best thing in the entire world! Some people want ginger sweets for nausea, but I didn’t feel that way; I still have a packet in my cupboard though!
  • Sleeping hats or hooded pyjamas – bald heads get cold at night!
  • Eyebrow pencil – right at the very end, once my head hair started growing back, my eyebrows fell out! Just when I thought I had survived that possible side effect, they finally got the memo.
  • Sun hats / beanies – your head will need shade or warmth no matter how much hair you have left.
  • Mints – for the smell of chemo (some people don’t notice this at all, others become fearful of the smell!). I used to pop a mint imperial in my mouth every time chemo started or I got a saline flush. One time solution!

Surgery list

  • Post surgery bras! Here in the UK a voucher for RECO or M&S would be highly valuable as a gift. The RECO bras are what my surgeon suggested as the best due to the compression element they provide, they’re good but at £40 each, it’s steep. (As my surgeon told me in no uncertain words – get 2 in black because you’ll leak and need to wash one.)
  • Front opening, loose fitting tops – you can’t lift your hands above your head for a while, so finding these tops for the season you’re in can be a challenge.
  • Front opening, loose fitting pyjamas
  • Dressing gown and slippers for surgery day – don’t be me searching the local supermarket for slippers on the morning of surgery!
  • Neck travel pillow – you know the kind you get in airports – in my house, they’re called boob cushions! They work perfectly with car seat belts to cushion your boob area but not put pressure on because of the hole in the middle. And they hang neatly over the gear stick when you’re not using it. Personally, I prefer the ones that are half cushion and half beany.

Radiotherapy list

  • Strappy tops that you can pull down to expose the breasts but cover your torso.
  • Moisturiser – needed 2-3 times a day as a minimum.

General list

  • PARKING! At £4 – £13 per hospital trip it all adds up! (I got a permit for chemo and radio days, but all the scans, checks, blood tests, surgery, pre-assessments, more scans – all pay for parking).
  • Dentistry before chemo – got to make sure you’re all functioning there otherwise the pain is real. (Update: dentistry post chemo too! My gums were a wreck.)
  • If you have a PICC line, clothes that are baggy enough in the arm not to pull the bandage around are really important. Similarly, tops you can wear so people have easy access to the line. An unexpected and superficial frustration, but still a frustration!
  • Water bottles – making sure you get enough water is vital throughout the process but monitoring/managing/remembering this when you have fatigue is challenging. The husband came up with a plan for this: x5 600ml bottles that were filled daily. This way I could just go and pick one up when I needed a new one (or better still, the kids could) and at the end of the day, we knew the intake. Why not just buy a big one you ask – because you can’t lift it. I struggled to refill my 800ml bottle at the beginning, so we made a new plan.
  • Moisturiser, moisturiser, moisturiser and when you think you don’t need so much, moisturiser. Unperfumed, uncoloured and thick, at every step of the way. Personally, I like Simple and Child’s Farm the best (having tried a lot).
  • Eye liner – for when you have no eyelashes but want to feel ‘normal’ out in the world
  • Eye tests and new glasses – post chemo checks as your eyes can change shape apparently!
  • Slightly scented candles – this may be a personal one but my sense of smell became VERY sensitive during chemo, so in my house I became the lady with a candle to ward off the general smells people make.
  • Anti-histamines – that pesky pollen and dust is gonna get you when you have no immune system!
  • Predictable healthy lunch – again this might be a personal one but not having to think about it and not spend too much time in the kitchen (amongst the smells) was the right thing for me.
  • Alongside being healthy with your diet, remember the sugar and salt! I forgot these things and they made a big different to me once my nurse pushed me in the right direction.

I am a problem-solver to the point of barely noticing the problem now before I have a solution! This is who I am and I faced each step in this journey with this Positive Mental Attitude. Yes, I had my down days but after a period of wallowing, I picked myself up and adjusted my attitude. I know however, that many people are not able to do that. Many people do not have the support I have or the level of privilege I have. These lists may seem trivial, but they are the things that can really get a person down in amongst this battle. These are the things that can bring on the tears in an otherwise strong warrior. When you’re too tired to think, can’t undo a lid, can’t lift a bottle, can’t remember a common word and you’re bald and cold and too hot at the same time, these little things are what you NEED.

Know thyself… or thy boobs

I have been indecisive about writing my story because it is not extraordinary or special; there are millions of people out there right now going through or have been through breast cancer and many many people writing about thier journey through treatment.

A deciding factor for me was the number of women who have asked me how I found out and asking what it’s like. The difficulty is that it’s different for everyone, so I do not want to preach ‘the truth’ as every cancer journey is as unique as the person going through it. But I do feel it’s important (and have been told insistently by friends and family) to share how I found out I had it, as this is something we women do not talk about as much as we should.

I had large breasts – G cup – so when I first learnt about doing checks for lumps, I found it worrying. How was I going to find a tiny lump in all of this in order to ‘catch it early’?! So instead of monthly checks, I did weekly checks, so I really knew what they felt like and could notice a change. In amongst natural lumps and ridges from stretch marks and hormonal changes in fullness, I got to know the landscape. I’m not sure why, but most people (including nurses) assume the lump was caught on mammograms, it wasn’t, I found it…but it wasn’t hard to find.

One day in October, I was sitting at a table, leant down to pick something up off the floor, my breast pressed against the table leg and hurt – this was unusual. When I got changed that night, I checked and there was a palm-sized lump. What the fuck?! I assumed it was a bruise or something but when I investigated, it had very definitive edges and was round like a ball. It also didn’t move around, which I have since learnt is a key sign. I left it a few days to see if it went away. Nope. Went to the doctors and the rest is history.

The fact that I have to highlight is that I can honestly say that the 5.4cm lump was not there a week or so beforehand. In amongst all the treatments and fatigue and questioning if this is the right thing for me, the single most important fact of all is that the lump came out of nowhere.

I don’t say this to scare, worry or shock you. I say this to let you know that whatever funny feelings you may have about touching and getting to know your breasts, it’s really worth getting over it.

In this wonderful world of ever-changing technology and scientific discoveries, of self-discovery and growth, of acceptance and female empowerment, why would we deny ourselves these advantages that so many others before us did not have or know about?

You use a mobile phone? Then check your breasts!

You take painkillers? Then check your breasts!

Please.

But this goes for men too! This is not just a female issue. Can you imagine the stigma for a man to get breast cancer? So few men know that if they have a family history of it, then they may have a genetic marker which could heighten thier chances of getting it. Statistics show it’s as much as 1 in 7 women get breast cancer in thier lifetime and 1 in 100 men get it. For men, the cancer is usually invasive but for women, it is one of the most ‘curable’ cancers.

I love this website: https://coppafeel.org/your-boobs/boob-check-101/ You can even sign up to get reminders on your phone!

I know for some this may seem frightening or weird, especially those of you with daughters having to explain this, but actually it’s all about empowerment. Empowering ourselves to take control of our bodies and our choices and our future.

Female acceptance – Sports

I have become aware that being a feminist isn’t a final destination like enlightenment; it’s a journey. I am by no means a perfect feminist with all the answers and witty retorts, who spends their time in the right places fighting the good fight. I admire those feminists (and activists in general who are making that powerful positive impact) but I’m not them… at least, not right now. My journey is a more personal one. It started off with wanting to increase my own intolerance for daily sexism and prejudice and to call it out. It became a journey to realise my own sexism.

As a woman there are a thousand small ways we are made to feel different; especially physically but also in how we act. This is different for every country and culture. I am aware of some differences but I can only speak to those I was raised within: England’s. Demure is probably the word that best describes the expectation but it needs coupling with delecate and desirable. If you are not these things, your elders tend to shake thier heads in desparation. This is different for every family and is thankfully becoming diluted through the generations but it certainly has been in recent history that any woman who didn’t conform was doomed to be a social outcast.

I have realised how much of this attitude is still within me. Cast aside the impact of women being made to feel that we must compete for acceptance and the influence that has had on how I have viewed successful women as I have grown. I am focusing on how I view women who are not demure, delecate and desirable. Yesterday I was faced with why I have felt so uncomfortable with women’s sports.

Women’s 6 Nations Rugby is on bbc iplayer – full matches, and is being advertised well. We are a big rubgy-loving family and wanted to support this. Especially during a dry patch of rugby; our weekends were feeling empty. I knew deep down I would find this uncomfortable to watch – my self-awareness was tingling and I disapproved of myself. So initially, I listened. I got used to the female commentary and female voices yelling at each other and sounds of exertion. I only got annoyed once when they refered to the Men’s 6 Nation side as ‘their men’. (I say only once, but I probably ranted for 5 minutes.) After the first quarter, I started watching and found that the differences I was noticing were quite different to being gender-based but were about the game instead. It’s much faster paced and less about strength, there are fewer stereotyped bodies, so it’s harder to know who does what position – especially when you have a front rower who’s scored 18 tries!

At half time, we discussed why I found this so uncomfortable initially and it came down to that view of women always needing to be composed. Now, at this point I should point out that I am very far away from composed, demure, delecate or desirable in any traditional sence!! Very far! So I’m not judging from a pedastal but from the point of view that I was always told how to behave, as a girl, which was far from how I actually do. I guess somewhere deep down, I have a view of how a woman should be that feels uncomfortable when faced with Other. Isn’t that crazy? I can be so aware of societal inequalities of women but deep down there is an expectation of perfection on others! I make myself feel a little sick.

So I’m working on it! I’m picking myself up every time I hear the judgy little voice. I can’t stand that idea within myself – it’s got to go!

However, I don’t think I’m alone in this. We used to watch WWE (don’t judge me!) and when the ‘Divas’ came on, I’d always find something else to do because I couldn’t stand it. It sounded like porn. It was all posing and hair flipping. Then a generation of female wrestlers came along who were actual wrestlers. Their grunts were real and they actually got hurt and sweaty – on TV – in front of millions of people – not very composed at all! It was awesome! WWE actually changed things for females in thier field, slowly but surely. And they’re no longer called ‘divas’ – thank goodness. I know it’s not perfect and it’s a crazy example but it highlights what we have expected from women previously as well as how subtly people feel they have to make the change.

Apparently, people need time to accept women in thier raw form.

This idea is both completely infuriating yet reassuring that change is happening anyway. Maybe the ‘status quo-ers’ out there won’t notice the change towards equality, if we do it subtly? Maybe there will be less resistance? Subtle is fine as long as it’s quick!

Anyway, long rambling story later, by the end of the match, I am cured of my stupid-brain-washing when it comes to women’s sports. AND as an added bonus, my sons think that women’s rugby is brilliant!

England Women v Wales Women at The Stoop: All you need to know | News | Harlequins Rugby Union
credit: Getty images

Hope

When I was a child the future was painted in all manner of hopeful ways; flying cars, stop whaling, hoverboards, gender equality, self-drying clothes, end to racism, teleportation, no deforestation, no poaching, renewable energy…and most importantly, hoverboards… did I mention that already?

Technology has moved forward so fast that my childhood of untwisting cassettes with a biro seems like a weird dream. We could never imagine how different our daily lives could be with the technology we keep in our pockets or on our wrists. Yet every day we imagine a world without the social and environmental problems we have, but it’s not becoming a reality.

Do we need a phone with 3 cameras…no. Do we need clean renewable energy…YES! Do we need to know how much REM sleep we had this week…no. Do we need to end hatred of race and sexuality and gender…YES, a thousand times, YES!

I hear so many people of my generation being cynical. They no longer believe that change can happen. So many people question, why would a change happen now when it hasn’t for so long? I see the pain behind that statement. However that pain is hindering hope. Having your hope chipped away at over decades leads a person to be more careful where they place that hope. I understand that. But much like racism shouldn’t be said out loud, neither should cynicism. Let Greta do her thing; if she can make change happen, perfect. Let each celebrity trying to use thier voice do it; the more positive voices and role models out there the better for all.

I lose hope. I look at my list of hopes for the future and realise that none of them truly exist yet. So then I pick myself up and think about the people who have waited for their hopes for a hell of a lot longer than me and I keep hoping. This is purely selfish though, I want to see this change in my lifetime. None of this – future generations stuff – what about us!! Why aren’t we fighting for our world? What, coz it’s too comfy like it is? Look around, no it isn’t. People are afraid. They are afraid of being different, of being left behind, of not having enough, of being hated, of regret.

There are also a frightening proportion who don’t want change. They are frightened to death of it and they are fighting so hard to keep the status quo. These are people who have no hope. Don’t let them be louder than you. Don’t let them drive the frikkin bus! When you hear doubt and cynicism, shove your hands over you hears and shout ‘la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you’! Protect your hope. Guard it. Water it and keep it strong. Listen to the good news. Watch the up-lifting movie. Listen to hopeful songs. Stop the doubt when you see it and name it. The children are rising up because thier hope is stronger than ours, thiers hasn’t had the battering ours has. So shake it off and find your child-like hope for equality…and let’s not forget…hoverboards.

And the best actress award goes to…

So bear with me on my convoluted thought-train that ended at revolutionary gender equality. 

Last night my husband and I played Netflix Russian rullette with the ‘play something’ button. We reminisced over the first episode of friends, cringed and cackled through the first episode of modern family and turned off the first episode of schitts creek; only to find ourselves watching the first episode of Umbrella Academy. 

In doing my usual, what’s that actors name/ how old are they/ what else have they been, in internet trawl mid episode, I found out about Elliot Page’s public declaration of becoming transgender. As I continued to read his wiki page I saw awards for ‘best actress’ and it occurred to me how other that might feel for him in 10 years to see those awards with a different pronoun. 

But actually, then it posed the question of why do we have actor/actress categories for awards? Your gender holds no import on the quality of your acting. Sure, on the quality of the parts available but not on the quality of the person. Since there has been a push on the quality of roles for women on screen, why not do away with gendered awards? 

My assumption is that people are afraid of what bias we might see if we did. Would only men get the awards? Would only women get them? (Shock horror!) The more I think about it, gendered awards seems archaic. Why not have Meryl Streep in the same category as Dustin Hoffman? What am I missing? 

So then the conversation turned to sports and how we understand why there are gender separations in sport. But then we managed to find A LOT of examples where there has been major controversy, prejudice and sexism due to body types and strength. 

Why not throw the whole thing up in the air and stop separating by gender and start separating by an actual measure? Like weight or the speed of your hit or height? Why not have a 60kg woman compete against a 60kg man? Sports could be revolutionalsed by simply figuring out the classification for your sport. 

Sports like motor racing could then start to really open up but because females in some sports are so unusual, currently, no one wants to back them. 

Maybe I’m just in the mood for change or I’m simply not afraid of it, but it feels like the time. It feels like we need to catch the fuck up and stop living in the 20th Century still. Pay attention to the world around you to see that our rules and norms don’t fit anymore. Time for a rethink. 

Acceptance of choice

‘They encourage their children to believe that they can do anything’. This is how we were described by my kids’ teachers. At the time I was very much ‘well yeah, obviously!’ but now I have come to see that they said it because it’s different. 

As stated previously we have worked hard on gender stereotypes and ensuring our children have a good balanced knowledge of history of women and non-white people, not just the mainstream spoon-fed stories. But it occurred to me the other day when my eldest told me that he didn’t want to have kids when he was an adult. My response was ‘ok’. I realised that for many, the response would be ‘you’ll feel different when you’re older’. 

But why? Why should they? All around them their friends are playing make-believe as parents, babies, teachers, doctors, superheroes: acting out their dreams and processing their realities. They are seeing their peers acting like parents and making the decision that that’s not for them. In the exact the same way as watching my friend play football made me think- nope. It’s as simple as that. They have no concept that they would be working against societal norms and people’s expectations. 

I have encountered so many people who feel that having grandchildren is their right after having their own children. People who feel passionately about their name or their DNA being passed on to the next generation. Why? I really don’t get it. 

I understand the yearn to have children. I wonder how many people have considered whether it’s children or a family that they are yearning for? I do understand it, but not the grandchildren thing. Surely that’s the choice to be made for the humans you raised, not you. Your journey has a new chapter, it shouldn’t be on repeat. 

It’s not a biological yearning, so I’m guessing it’s a societal one: All my friends have grandkids, where are mine? There comes a time in a woman’s life where your friends all get pregnant and the conversation becomes amazingly focused on child care. I guess there comes a new time where the conversation becomes focused on how amazing grandkids are. Why? 

Is it a remnant of the ‘raise the kids and support the husband’ generation? Is it because it’s easier to get motivated to look after another than it is to look after yourself? The question ‘what do you want out of life’ terrifies people if you veto the kids option. Especially when you get to middle age and realised that most of what was on your list, you’ve got, so what’s next?! 

Why is it that having children defines so much of our existence? What would happen if we were accepting of anyone who says ‘no, I don’t want kids’? How would they change our reality? How many career driven women would still stop to think twice or be questioned about their intentions? How many infertile women would feel whole? The acceptance that having kids is our choice. 

How is it that I can be asked: when are you having a baby? When are you having another? Have you said you don’t want anymore kids? Are you trying? But it’s rude to ask my age?!? 

Let it be rude to ask if I’m having kids or not! Stop assuming I will unless there’s something wrong with me! As a woman of child-baring age, you’re either going to have kids or deserve a bit of pity (poor blind career-driven woman, one day she’ll wake up and realise/ poor woman, her body has failed her/ poor woman, her husband doesn’t want children/ poor woman she doesn’t know what a gift children are). I was actually once asked my age by a friend who found out I was nearly 30 and followed it with – better hurry up and have kids before it’s too late! He meant well but the words were harsh. (I did give him an elbow and told him never to say that to a woman again.) 

People all over the world have different views on having children; anti-abortion, IVF, adoption, religions and more variables make this a complex topic, which I feel is totally your own personal thing. My question is, if we raise our children to believe that having a child is just as much of a free choice as their career, how will the world change?

Miss-Mrs-Ms?

Why?

Why must a woman denote whether she is married or not? I know plenty of women who wear the Mrs badge with pride. I’m not judging that at all. I’m just wondering why it exists? Don’t get me wrong I’m glad we no longer have to take their entire name- Mrs John Smith! That makes no sense to me at all. It turns a person into a belonging – like a brand. We may have moved on from this but why is it so important for women to start their name with a statement of status? 

Whether we like it or not, these titles trigger a judgement. Especially when it is aligned to age. If you meet a Miss Smith who is 20, you think differently of her to Miss Smith who is 50. The same works in opposite. A Mrs Smith who is 20 versus a Mrs Smith who is 50. Either way, before they have even spoken to you, you feel you know something about them and you have made an instant judgement call about who they are fundamentally. As we all know, these could be very wrong but why put it there in the first place? Why do we allow it still? Habit? Romance? Pride? 

I took on Ms when I divorced and I was proud of it. Honestly I was proud of anything denoting the divorce because it meant I had survived! But then I got married again and Mrs came along. It was normal and expected that I tick the Mrs box. But it bothers me that there is a history along my life that shows my story dependant on which title box I ticked. No man has that. They just merrily tick Mr without thinking. From the day they were born. 

My kids are listed higher than me on plane manifestos because they are both Mr. That makes me very uncomfortable. (Especially when I bought the frikkin tickets!) 

The whole argument of whether to change your name or not or double barrel it, as far as I’m concerned is personal choice. It’s your name- it doesn’t get more personal. But those little letters that preceded our name, for women are trying to tell our story for us. They are helping others decide if they are comfortable or not, if we are to be respected or pitied. And the more I think about it, the more I’m irritated by it. 

Ms is an abbreviation of Mistress which denotes female with no attached marital status. Mrs and Miss are also derived from Mistress but only arrived in 19th Century when apparently it became important to state your status. However Ms has been used since 17th Century. Much like Mister (Mr) which held no marital status. Now, there has been a revival of Ms, which comes with a level of connotation – ‘oh you’re one of THOSE women’. 

But imagine if you will, if half of all women decided to go by Ms. What a freeing little act. Removing those 19th Century shackles and expectations that linger on. Such a small thing to do, such a small change but what a message to pass on to our daughters and nieces.  Other people with more shackled history don’t have the luxury of such an easy change. Take advantage and just tick a different box next time. Be woman. Be Ms.

Numbers game

At this time of social uprising I haven’t been able to pin down a thought long enough to write about it. My voice simply doesn’t seem as important as those who finally have a platform to speak and get air time.

So I have focused my time on social media. As in life, those who are ignorant or negative tend to shout the loudest. Whereas those who are positive and inclusive often shy away from conflict or posting something that might incur the negatives out there. It takes effort to face the conflict of negative posts and hatred. It eats at you and tires you, so you either don’t post, don’t respond or turn off. I get it. I’ve done all three of those things.

If the oppressed and marginalised cannot hide, neither should I. I am not in a position to do much but I can play the numbers game on social media. I have been treating it like a workplace, staffroom, social gathering; if I hear something I don’t like, something degrading, demeaning, derogitary, sexist, racist, prejudice, I comment. It’s easy to skim past these comments but I feel that if they go unchecked, someone else will skim past them and think they’re acceptable.

Those who love peace must learn to organise as effectively as those who love war.

– Martin Luthor King Jr

I have used this quote before but it hits a note in me. There are several like it that I often refer to. It’s the great undoing of our society that those of us who care and don’t think twice about equality are not often in positions of ‘power’  or large scale ‘authority’. Recently we have seen people organise in protest all over the country and it fills me with hope. Are we witnessing a time when good people are starting to say ‘enough’s enough, stop the hatred!’ I truly hope so. As it has been said so many many times lately, it’s not enough to not-be-racist anymore, you must be anti-racist if there is a chance of change.  You have to be willing to say ‘no, that’s not ok’.

So while I have switched my attention to saying ‘no, that’s not ok’ to social media, as we return to work, remember to be anti-racist, anti-sexist and anti-hatred. Be ‘anti-‘ even if it means having an uncomfortable moment. Even if it eats at you a bit. That feeling is nothing comparted to what others endure. That’s the thought that stops me when I skim past that comment or turn off my phone. NO, THAT’S NOT OK!

Excuses, excuses

I have been a adrift in a sea of anxiety and stress for several months. It’s only through hindsight that I can see how much crap you can just let slide when you’re stuck in your own head. My own stress and anxiety doesn’t seem a good enough excuse to let people say hurtful or bigoted stuff.

It’s as if the stress creates a time delay in my consciousness calling someone out. It’s so often in the car on the way home that suddenly it dawns on me how shockingly prejudice a comment was. It’s all very well coming up with a sharp come-back in the car by myself. I’m sure my steering wheel is very impressed with me.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I can see more clearly now why some people don’t speak out. If you’re shy, self-conscious, afraid, anxious or simply drowning under the weight of expectation; it can be hard to be completely present and able to react in a meaningful way. Within myself, I feel that it’s not a good enough excuse. But I don’t feel able to judge others to say the same.

I have never let a relationship get in the way of telling someone that their words are hurtful, so why is my relationship with myself getting in the way? Tiredness, I guess. Losing hope, maybe?

So I make no excuses for not positing more regularly or not being vociferous enough when faced with archaic views, but I aim to do better. I see inspiration in the world around me and I hope to set my life back on course again soon. Back to a place where my priorities are in line with my beliefs.

A Woman’s Worth

I’m an adopter. I have never been pregnant. However, I have always been good with babies and kids so I think the references often made to childless women have surpassed me on the most part. It is only now that I’m a mother that I have noticed the way that many mothers talk about childless women; especially about childbirth and babies. The general inferred message I hear is that childless women have failed, are  unnatural or selfish. I doubt that this is intentional but it’s there.

 

In our family we won’t ‘out’ our kids as adopted; that’s their choice. We tell our friends but we won’t tell their friends’ parents, for example. So due to this, most people I meet are unaware that I haven’t been through the bliss of childbirth and the comfort of pregnancy. Don’t get me wrong, both events are miracles but both can be horrendous and I never particularly wanted either. (I liked the idea of the baby but not what it entailed- I did however always prefer the idea of having a child and a family more).
So I’ve been asking the question; is it Women’s true belief that to bare children is their purpose in life?

 

Maybe it is. Maybe we’re all raised to believe this because our body preps us from an early age. Every period is a reminder of our body’s function. Maybe because we have to succumb to the pain, hormonal-ness and mess once a month, we figure that we may as well do what we’re built for.

I understand the yearning for a baby when that time in your life comes, I do! I felt it too. It’s overwhelming. However, I also understand that some women don’t feel it and that should be just as acceptable. I know more than a handful of women who had a baby ‘because that’s what you do’. For some of those women it worked out; for some it was always a struggle. I am reminded of the moment in one of the Sex in the City movies where Carrie and Big declare that they’re not choosing to have children and the dumbstruck response they received. I’ve seen that happen in real life. Why is it so hard to comprehend?
Then I read a line that I cannot get out of my head:

‘Man was made for women to pro create, no?’. Good old Billy Vunipola’s supporting response to a hateful comment made by Isreal Folau.

I hate the thought that some people think that’s their purpose in life! Is that why humans have ignored climate change, inequality, sexism, racism and everything else wrong with the world because ultimately our main concern is that we’re supposed to reproduce?

My obvious next step was to blame men and religion for this blatant programming, so I started my research. When I’d read about the 3-Ps of the Code of Manhood, it took up most of my thought-power. Initially I was incredibly angry: Protect, Procreate, Provide. So many thoughts whirled through my brain in a red mist. I decided to read on and was surprised by some of the article’s modernity and objectivity. It also made me think – which is always good.
https://www.artofmanliness.com/articles/the-3-ps-of-manhood-procreate/

It made we wonder what the ‘code of womanhood’ would be? I can’t help but assume we’d have a lot more than 3 Ps. However, I also think that what it is to be a woman has changed so significantly in the last few hundred years that a code would be hard to construct.

The article outlines a lot of change for men and their roles within society and different cultures; so I wonder, if we can accept the changing roles of men in our lives and we can broaden our remit as women, why can’t we broaden our views of our purpose in life? Our differences can make us stronger, if we are accepting of them. Women’s rise towards true equality lies in acceptance of our own and other women’s desires and choices, as together we are stronger.