I have never had a son.
Last night I dreamt about having one
And watched a woman cooing over hers.
I wondered if it was the man inside her
That she was adoring
On the outside.
I wondered whether I would love
A son more than my husband
As so many women do
Because my son would be
That male part of me
That my husband would never be.
The man in my own image,
Who would never steal my crown.
I wondered whether having the man
On the outside
Freed mothers of sons
To concentrate on the female
On the inside,
To be beautiful and manicured,
With long flowing hair
On the altar of their sons.
Giving birth to the Other:
Male coming out of female.
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March 15, 2009 at 8:30 pm
Sami
This is written with great insight. It is wonderful.
March 17, 2009 at 8:40 am
adifferentvoice
Thank you, Sami. It’s set me thinking about our identies as men and women, and whether they only make any sense when defined in relation to the otherness of the opposite. And how difficult it then becomes if the other refuses to be other, but becomes the same, like a man behaving like a woman, or a woman behaving like a man. So that a man might well feel his ability to be a man is taken away if the woman against whom he is defining himself (his mother, later his wife or his friends) takes over his identity. At that point his identity disappears because it only exists in relation to the Other. I shall think on.