I like to be treated like a lady.
There was a time when that statement didn’t have to be made. The declaration, “I like to wipe my heinie after I go,” would have been met with the same response:
“…Well…yes…that’s good to hear. Doesn’t everyone?”
To me, that would seem like the natural, ready answer from any self-respecting woman who is comfortable in the strength that comes from her femininity. But in today’s society, the backlash one receives for this preference of traditional propriety would certainly make you think twice before leading with this sentiment at your company Christmas party (or non-denominational end of year work mixer).
I can already hear the horrified gasps being muffled from all directions (except the right of course – which is due North if you’re looking at your moral compass). I can picture the sympathetic staring at hands in laps, due to the obvious brainwashing you’ve received…perhaps even beatings, some would posit. I can feel the frustrated rolling of eyes over your ignorance about current world issues from almost every feminist product of modern academia. And I can taste the disgust over your apathy towards women’s rights from the token triggered-thing in the corner (I’m very confused about pronouns these days, as there are now apparently 71 different gender options to choose from on Facebook – the ultimate authority of truth that reigns supreme over all the Earth, of course).
To be honest, I’m tired of belaboring the fact that we ladies have had equal rights for going on 100 years now. I’m sick of breaking down the fake news “wage gap”. I’m over defending myself against the alleged persecution by evil men (who are, categorically, all rapists – every last one of them).
What I don’t understand is, even if the culture peddles these non-truths, why would they negate customary practices and traditions that value and honor women and their unique giftings that shape families, society, and the word at large? Women are better than men…at being women. And men are better than women…at being men. Why can’t we celebrate that?
My husband doesn’t open my car door because my forearms are literally too weak to lift the handle. He does it because it’s a simple gesture that has come to be recognized as an effort towards chivalry – it’s a demonstration of love, and forethought, and desire to show affection and respect. I don’t ask him to do it. I don’t need him to do it. But I love that he does it. When we have children someday, they will notice their dad hold my jacket while I put it on, they’ll observe him pull out my chair when we’re out to eat, they’ll recollect the flowers that he brought home on occasion, they’ll recall the ice that he scraped off my car windows in the winter; and hopefully they will remember the appreciation, joy, and adoration that each of those deliberate acts of service and love were met with.
They will learn that cultivating a strong and healthy relationship has much to do with cultivating the soil that makes women blossom in all of their beauty, and men grow in all of their strength. That’s not to say that beauty and strength are mutually exclusive, but rather that there is great strength in a woman who embraces the beauty of her femininity; and there is great beauty when a man takes hold of the strength that comes from his masculinity.
There is a natural born romance when this phenomenon is realized (whether intentionally or unintentionally) between a male and a female. The “cliché” is really just a commonly shared affinity for what we’ve been designed to love.
It’s a rare person who doesn’t smile when they see a picture of a dirty little boy in overalls extending a rose to a pretty little girl in a dress. People far and wide stop to stare at an old man who still holds his wife’s hand as they shuffle down the sidewalk. Neither action is born from anything other than a genuine desire to demonstrate endearment by appealing to the fact that the object of their affection is uniquely and wonderfully different than them. It’s not a gross indoctrination by a patriarchal society that is hell-bent on objectifying weak women. Being treated like a lady is not just permissible, it’s…right. In it’s truest form, this discipline is one that champions virtue. It honors. It respects. It builds up. It protects. It puts feminine strength on display, not weakness. It models masculine sacrifice, not self-service. It rightly prompts love and respect, not resentment and inferiority.
I like to be treated like a lady because it makes much of not just me, not just women, but of men. Men aren’t our enemy, ladies. Sin is.
By insisting on being treated like ladies, we implore women and men alike to be fully themselves. We don’t have to deny the essence of our being to fit a cultural narrative. In fact, we need to stop doing the world that disservice.
There is great purpose in living as who you were made to be. There is much fulfillment in being the very best version of who you were made to be. And there is abundant need for individuals who understand and embrace this.