There's a show tune running through my head -- a song almost as old as me, composed long before the word "earworm" was coined.
It's catchy, but it's dated, trite, and certainly not an example of musical excellence.
Only one line of the song resonates with me, but it resonates vividly. It's the title line: "I enjoy being a girl."
It's from the 1958 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "Flower Drum Song," and it's been covered by singers like Doris Day and Peggy Lee, who belt out perky lines about brand new hairdos and hips that are swivelly and swervy.
I do derive joy from being a female human, although at this stage of life, I've earned the right to be called a woman instead of a girl.
But I don't enjoy my femaleness for the same reasons as the "Flower Drum Song" character, who focuses her "girl" identity strictly in terms of being attractive to males.
Some of the song, frankly, reeks of rape culture -- especially the line about how the singer would "glower and gristle" at a man's wolf whistle, but secretly she'd be pleased by the attention.
Yes, I enjoy being a girl.
But if lacy dresses, a pound-and-a-half of face cream and male wolf-whistles don't adequately define why and how I revel in my female identity, then what does?
I don't have the gift for show-stopping lyrics of the late Richard Rodgers, who wrote the words for "I Enjoy Being a Girl." But because I actually am female -- unlike Rodgers -- let me try describing this female's perspective.
I enjoy being a girl
In the same way I enjoy
The sight of waving wheat in Wisconsin,
The sound of alto-tenor harmony,
The scent and sensation of a lavender bath bomb
And the flavor of a well-seasoned fajita.
I take delight in my female body just as it is,
And rejoice that women
Come in so many sizes, shapes and colors -- all of them exquisite.
I reject my religion's teaching
That, in the Creator's eyes,
Females are either an afterthought or a remodeled rib.
Like our male counterparts,
We are created in the image of the Artist.
We were in the Artist's mind from the beginning,
And the Artist crafted us wonderfully.
I reject the judgment of society and history
That a female's sole value emanates from being
An object of male desire,
A helpmate,
A vessel for carrying and birthing children,
A provider of milk,
Or a selfless servant.
Even if I am only some of these things,
Or none of them,
You only need look at me,
And the body you may describe as weak or flawed,
And declare,
"This, too, is what femininity looks like."
It's catchy, but it's dated, trite, and certainly not an example of musical excellence.
Only one line of the song resonates with me, but it resonates vividly. It's the title line: "I enjoy being a girl."
It's from the 1958 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "Flower Drum Song," and it's been covered by singers like Doris Day and Peggy Lee, who belt out perky lines about brand new hairdos and hips that are swivelly and swervy.
I do derive joy from being a female human, although at this stage of life, I've earned the right to be called a woman instead of a girl.
But I don't enjoy my femaleness for the same reasons as the "Flower Drum Song" character, who focuses her "girl" identity strictly in terms of being attractive to males.
Some of the song, frankly, reeks of rape culture -- especially the line about how the singer would "glower and gristle" at a man's wolf whistle, but secretly she'd be pleased by the attention.
Yes, I enjoy being a girl.
But if lacy dresses, a pound-and-a-half of face cream and male wolf-whistles don't adequately define why and how I revel in my female identity, then what does?
I don't have the gift for show-stopping lyrics of the late Richard Rodgers, who wrote the words for "I Enjoy Being a Girl." But because I actually am female -- unlike Rodgers -- let me try describing this female's perspective.
I enjoy being a girl
In the same way I enjoy
The sight of waving wheat in Wisconsin,
The sound of alto-tenor harmony,
The scent and sensation of a lavender bath bomb
And the flavor of a well-seasoned fajita.
I take delight in my female body just as it is,
And rejoice that women
Come in so many sizes, shapes and colors -- all of them exquisite.
I reject my religion's teaching
That, in the Creator's eyes,
Females are either an afterthought or a remodeled rib.
Like our male counterparts,
We are created in the image of the Artist.
We were in the Artist's mind from the beginning,
And the Artist crafted us wonderfully.
I reject the judgment of society and history
That a female's sole value emanates from being
An object of male desire,
A helpmate,
A vessel for carrying and birthing children,
A provider of milk,
Or a selfless servant.
Even if I am only some of these things,
Or none of them,
You only need look at me,
And the body you may describe as weak or flawed,
And declare,
"This, too, is what femininity looks like."
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