Equality may perhaps be a right, but no power on earth can ever turn it into a fact. -Honoré de Balzac, French playwright
Now here is a study I can get behind as it tends to affirm what I’ve always held: families in general, and women in particular, benefit most when women do the majority of housework!! Hear, hear! To wit:
In what appears to be a slap in the face for gender equality, the report found the divorce rate among couples who shared housework equally was around 50 per cent higher than among those where the woman did most of the work.
“What we’ve seen is that sharing equal responsibility for work in the home doesn’t necessarily contribute to contentment,” said Thomas Hansen, co-author of the study entitled “Equality in the Home”.
The lack of correlation between equality at home and quality of life was surprising, the researcher said.
“One would think that break-ups would occur more often in families with less equality at home, but our statistics show the opposite,” he said.
The figures clearly show that “the more a man does in the home, the higher the divorce rate,” he went on.
It’s hard to argue with the figures now, isn’t it. But the saddest part is left for the end:
Those men who did more housework generally reported less work-life conflict and were scored slightly higher for well-being overall.
Experts suggested that, while this may be partly because they felt less guilty, the main reason could be that they had simply learnt the secret of a quiet life.
Interpretation: some men have realized that if they do more around the house it’ll shut her up!
(This is all meant in good fun, despite what the numbers say).
During World War II, the Nazis referred to the Jews as “rats.” Amidst the Rwandan genocide, the Hutus called the Tutsis “cockroaches.” Written into the US Constitution during the time of slavery, the Three-Fifths Compromise defined each black slave as three-fifths a human, or put more succinctly, less than fully human. The same thing has occurred in the modern abortion debate: a human life, a baby, is now affectionately referred to as a fetus, removing from it the human connotation and making it appear to be less than what is really is. When one defines their opponent in such a way as to make them appear to be an animal or sub-human, their eventual extermination becomes more palatable to the average person. (For more on this phenomenon read Less Than Human: Why we demean, enslave, and exterminate others by David Livingstone Smith).
Both sides struggle to frame the debate in ways that make their own positions appear more acceptable. Is a person pro-choice or pro-abortion? Is another pro-life or anti-choice? No matter how one characterizes themselves or their opponents, we can never lose sight of the fact that at the very heart of it we are talking about life, not just a clump of developing cells. To define a baby in such a way is to make it’s extraction seem far more remedial a procedure and far less distasteful to the average person. We are a culture where our comfort is the “value” we cherish most, while doing what may be difficult (raising a child of an unplanned pregnancy) proves to be too much of an inconvenience for many.
Words have powerful meanings. Those that have sought to exterminate their enemies in times past have known that and have defined them in ways that questioned their humanness. We must be just as strong in exposing this tactic and calling it what it is: wrong. But that assumes one even has the categories of right and wrong, good and evil, in their vocabulary; a point for another day.
There is much more I will say on this subject over time, but for now I leave you with this thought to ponder:
How can we speak of the termination of a pregnancy when what we really mean is the destruction of a human life? How can we talk of therapeutic abortion when pregnancy is not a disease needing therapy and what abortion effects is not a cure but a killing? How can we talk of abortion as a kind of retroactive contraception when what it does is not prevent conception but destroy the conceptus? We need to have the courage to use accurate language. Abortion is feticide: the destruction of an unborn child. It is the shedding of innocent blood, and any society that can tolerate this, let alone legislate for it, has ceased to be civilized. -John Stott
Besides the banality of what passes for “good” music these days, there is a disturbing trend that has been a long time in the making but growing bolder every year. The feminist mantra, that women can be, and are, just like men, despite the glaring emotional and biological differences, has found a nice spot in the Top 40 and is influencing our sons and daughters. Let’s look at three artists that currently have hit songs on the charts:
Exhibit A: Pink – Slut Like You
I got a little piece of you-hoo
And it’s just like woo-hoo
Wham Bam thank you Ma’am
I’m a slut like you
You say you’re looking for a foo-ool
And I’m just like “me too”
I’m gonna let ya know the truth
I’m a slut like you
Pink, and other young, purportedly “strong” women, would defend this as an example of female empowerment; that they can bed whomever and whatever they like, as often as they like, with no long term emotional impact. Study after study on the effects of casual sex and the hookup culture would prove otherwise.
Exhibit B: Christina Aguilera – Your Body
I don’t need to know where you’ve been,
All I need to know is you and no need for talking.(hey boy)
So don’t even tell me your name,
All I need to know is whose place,
And let’s get walkin’.
All I wanna do is f*ck your body.
Ooooh oooh oooh oooh.
Tonight’s your lucky night, I know you want me.
Ooooh oooh oooh oooh.
Here we have sex devoid of any emotional attachment at all; just one body and another. It doesn’t take a genius to understand how these behaviours, over time, can leave a void and emptiness along with an inability to sufficiently connect with future partners.
Exhibit C: Nikki Minaj – Starships
Jump in my hoopty hoopty hoop, I own that
And I ain’t paying my rent this month, I owe that
But f*ck who you want, and f*ck who you like
Dance our life, there’s no end in sight
Twinkle, twinkle little star.
I guess there is a certain level of talent required to string together one non sequitur after another. And we wonder why SAT scores are plummeting when kids look to, and learn from, these exceptional “role models.” (Please note sarcasm). No further comment needs to be made.
One only needs to look at the personal lives of these three lyrical luminaries, and the “train wreck” lives they’ve allowed the world to see, to know that living by their anthem-ized mantras really hasn’t led to the personal happiness they so desperately portray in front of the paparazzi. A fish rots from the head down. And so does a culture. Unfortunately, many young men and women will insist on learning their lessons the hard way.
It seems as if these lessons can only be learned the hard way:
It wasn’t until the end of my sophomore year that I finally started regarding my freshman hookups as mistakes. This was partially because I had a hard time admitting that I had messed up. For me, to regret a decision was on par with saying “I screwed up big time,” which I could barely admit to myself, let alone a peer. And the desire to seem like I already knew it all, despite never having lived on my own before, kept me from asking questions when I first got to Princeton. But even if I had, there were elements of the hookup culture I would have never been able to anticipate, let alone seek advice about.
I was so sheltered and naive as a freshman that I can barely believe I am that same person today. And I just wish someone had told me that the reality of hooking up is monumentally different from what I was expecting. I wish someone had told me that you don’t get into a relationship by meeting someone on the Street and taking him home or that they won’t even text you the next day. I wish someone had told me that when a guy says, “Hey, I want to show you this really funny video, but it’s in my room,” he’s going to show you much more than a video. And the awkwardness that happens when your hookup flat out pretends you don’t exist the day after? No one warned me about that!
How is it that this author was never warned of the pitfalls of the indiscriminate hookup culture? Of course she knew. She just failed to heed the wisdom in the warnings of those who had gone before her. She thought she could navigate her course differently. In the end, she was just another girl used up and left empty. Feminism has deceived a generation of women who have imbibed its poisonous nectar.
Hookups will never lead to relationships. No man will view an easy lay as relationship material. Why risk committing to someone who so easily would jump into bed for a night of thrills, only to see her do the same once the next best thrill came along?
I applaud the author’s sense in publicly admitting her mistakes and trying to warn those who think they are wiser than she. But alas, one voice whispering amongst the screaming, virile hordes will barely make a difference. Those that chose to learn their lessons the hard way, surely will.
The deist Voltaire once wrote,
“God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.”
Didn’t someone once say that living well was the best revenge? I have no need of revenge, but I do plan, in the remainder of my days, to live humbly, to live quietly, to live adventurously, and to live ‘well.’ This I promise myself.