WOMAN’S SELF-PITY

Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 9, 2 March 1925, Page 52

WOMAN’S SELF-PITY

By Anna Blount

AN old friend of our family, a clever physician, said lately, "I am so sorry for women." A great many women are sorry for themselves. They regard wo- - manhood as a handicap or a disadvantage. I suppose the larger number of my sex have at one time or another felt at least a twinge of resentment against Fate for making them women instead of men. To be quite candid, I used to pity myself for being a woman. I remember a youthful heart-to-heart talk with a girl friend of about my own age who had shared my dissatisfaction with the natural decree that determined my sex. Until that memorable hour we used to contrast our lot with that of our brothers and the young men of our acquaintance, always deciding in the end that women are born to endure much greater suffering than men. But upon this occasion my friend astounded me by an exultant delight in her womanhood. I will confess that a feeling of vexation mingled with my surprise and curiosity. We had both been so consolingly assured that it is tragic to be a woman. And now my dearest friend abruptly reversed her opinion and left me lonely and forsaken in my discontent. * * * TP7HAT had happened? Something very interesting but not unusual. My friend had fallen in love with a man who is now her devoted

husband, and a single sentence from his lips had convinced her that womanhood is a glorious possession. The magic words were these: "Dearest, I am so glad that you are a woman I know that my friend and her husband will smile when they read this reminiscence and that they will know why I began to reconsider my views upon the disadvantages of femininity. Manifestly, if my friend had not been a woman she would never have known how sweet it is to be loved ardently by a fine man. Pondering deeply upon this conversation, I felt that I must talk to some older and more experienced woman. Now, the wisest woman of my acquaintance at that time was our former nurse, who was married and living in the neighbourhood. So I went to discuss the matter with Jane. I began with the point-blank question : "Jane, did you ever feel sorry that you are a woman?" "Bless you, no !" she replied. "Sorry I'm a woman? Why, think how much more gifted we are than men!" Later experience has taught me that both sexes have their respective "gifts" and that there is no such thing as' sex superiority. But although I do not grieve that I am a woman, I am inclined to believe that convention stultifies some of our finest faculties. We remind ourselves too often that we are women, and when we forget to remind ourselves, men obligingly reiterate the fact.