Spend five minutes on social media these days, and you’ll be hit with a cavalcade of explanations of what it takes to be a “real” woman. Real women drink beer.
Real women have curves.
Real women love football.
Real women have real bodies.
And on it goes.
They’re meant to be inspiring. Yes! I can be a woman, and I can drink beer unapologetically! Yes, I can have a body type that does not conform to Photoshopped model ideals, and that does not make me less than any other woman on the planet.
Unfortunately whenever we ascribe one practice to “real women,” we automatically create a divide within the female race. If you don’t drink something brewed from hops and barley, if you don’t enjoy people (largely men, let’s face it) in tight pants running after a pigskin, if you don’t have a torso that resembles an hourglass… you are suddenly, by virtue of definition, a figment of your own imagination.
You may poke yourself and feel it just like anyone else would, but per the assertion of a fair amount of the public, you are as fake as glitter-pooping unicorns and fat-free, calorie-free chocolate that’s just as satisfying as the sugar-laden good stuff.
Considering the dictionary defines “real” as “genuine; not counterfeit, artificial, or imitation; authentic,” when we say something makes up a real woman, basically we’re calling other women fake-ass bitches. And no one wants to be called a fake-ass bitch.
So let’s establish, once and for all, what “real” women do, m’kay?