Some of us women wouldn’t like people’s pictures on Facebook because there is this inherent thing in us that seems to see only the bad in people. We wouldn’t comment on an exciting woman’s journey because we hate what she’s doing. We wouldn’t say a positive word to a woman or anyone else. We wouldn’t cheer up another woman’s post because we think there should be something she should do better which of course we have answers to. We pride ourselves as being objective and focused, but what’s eating us is deeper than objectivity, it deeper than perfectionism. We are becoming sicker and sicker by the day, but we don’t care as long as the sickness is hidden. Like cancer, one day it would eat all of us and we would be left with nothing of ourselves.
No, I am not talking about desiring the seemingly vague attention social media brings, I am talking about seeing the good in situations, in all things, in all lives, around you, among your friends, at work, even mundane things as what’s on social media.
A lady walks into a room who is gorgeously dressed and your nose is already up in the air picking out stuffs she didn’t do well or questioning her demeanor. Oh we’re already seeing why she did wear a blazer on a trousers and not a skirt? Is she the only one who knows how to walk properly? What about been bitter and seemingly angry because somebody does something better than us? Rather than appreciate such works, we become depressed and sad. Rather than deal with the root cause, we think the problem is everyone else but us.
A lady is successful in her mid thirties or later, yet you begin to tell her or think that she’s incomplete because she’s single. You’re privileged to know another woman’s past so you can now rub it on her face. An obviously successful lady is bad-mouthed by you because you know she’s slept with every Tom, Dick and Harry to get to that position. Another lady posts pictures of her lovely family on Facebook, and you begin to quint your nose, boldly declaring that time would reveal things to her? What things? A lady says confidently that her hubby has never cheated on her and would never do so, but you begin to define her own truth. Why?
You see, I used to think I was simply been objective and pride myself to be a perfectionist been a Melancholy by temperament. When I see female pictures on Facebook, my eyes would immediately pick the things not right with it. Oh she is pretty, but then, why she didn’t do this and that? Although some of these thoughts of mine could be true, but who am I to sit and judge what I think is somebody’s definition of beautiful? And what is the acceptable benchmark of measuring beautiful? Who am I to determine another woman’s definition of wrong or right? When I seem to be jealous of another woman’s gift, I remind myself that the world is large enough to accommodate everyone. Why do I sit and get jealous of her gift while I have done nothing with mine? And whose fault is it? Why do I condemn another woman’s journey? Why do I judge another woman whose relationship or Marriage didn’t work out? Why don’t I focus on my own race? Why do I raise my shoulders higher than necessary because I don’t engage in premarital sex? Why do I think I am better than the other woman because I have an awesome relationship with a great dude? Why I do feel safer because perhaps I sin differently and secretly?
No, it doesn’t mean I would support evil or wrong, but it means I would be gentle on the next woman. I would love and care for her. I would seek to understand her unique journey. Note my word ‘seek’. I would not be quick to put my best foot forward while focusing on her own bad foot. I would be gentle, kind, compassionate and loving.
Here is my declaration: I have chosen not me be an enemy to another woman. I have chosen to support every woman and see the best in them. I have chosen never to judge any woman in my heart and words. When my female friends think of me, I want them to see me as a woman who supports and believes in them. When I am tempted to get jealous of that woman, I would remember that if I reflect deeply, I can see the beautiful gifts I have as well. I’d choose not to compete with another woman. I would see every woman’s world as beautiful. I’d see her journey as unique. I would not use my own standard to measure her life’s choices. I’d see every woman’s mistakes as lessons and not a bait to get back at her. I would choose to use my words to build a woman and not tear her down.
I have made my declaration and it changing something inside of me, I hope you would make same as well.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Omoby, 2015