Most of my life was spent in the firm belief that aside from sexual differences, men and women basically could think the same way and could perform at least mentally and emotionally alike if it became a learned behavior. That’s one of the reasons I was not into feminism as while it strove for equality, it stressed the differences. The longer I live, the more I see the different paths the male brain and the female brain seem to take.
Although I don’t have the inclination to research nor lobby for gender-separated education–I have just read about the success recently of an all-girl’s school as evidenced by higher overall comprehension and knowledge scores–I would think that there is value to it. Girls learn differently than boys. Men teach differently than women. It’s something to consider.
What has brought me to this “dilemma of the day” is certain personal circumstances and both my own reaction and way of dealing as well as that of a few friends. The thought presented itself that while three women were handling a situation, it was done in a way that was straightforward, efficient, and successful in its progress towards a solution despite the otherwise unreality of the situation. I’m not saying that the men involved are not or would not be as successful in the final conclusion, but it is the method and manner that seems natural to the gender that intrigues me.
While men are usually known for fantasizing their sex lives and facing reality head-on and logically, I believe women may in fact fantasize reality as a means to cope. It is almost as if a second system were put into place as primary when needed. While reality is being dealt with, emotions are not what they normally would be allowed as input. Maybe it’s just a case of kicking into overdrive. Reality is seen more clearly than ever, but it becomes a thing apart from the reality as it is known.
My thoughts here are confused, especially in the telling. The closest example I can give is perhaps in an abusive relationship, where the woman may seem to be stupidly refusing to see her male abuser for what he is, but instead fantasizes through it and beyond it to insert a new reality in its place to make it more livable.
I’m not sure where this is going, but another thing I’m finding that is applicable to much of life, is that the hard things aren’t the hardest or least comprehensible in the doing, but rather in the initial concept, and in the afterthought.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology