For the past twenty-four hours I’ve been pondering what it mean to be special? Let me start theologically: Jesus says that God shows no partiality, which to me means that everyone is special. Then there is Mr. Rogers who implied the same thing when he told everyone in his neighborhood that they were special. Merriam-Webster defines special as: ‘being the one or ones of a class with no other members; granted special treatment or attention; of a particular or exact sort.’ As I see it, special can describes some groups well, but when applied to half the human race, the word takes on a different definition.
When the President said, “Women are special,” I was left feeling diminished and defined by someone who has no right to do so. Of course, I don’t have to buy into his definition, nor do I have to feel what I feel, but when a person in such power places verbal parameters around my life, it’s hard to ignore. More to the point, here is one male putting women in one category. I don’t even want to be special, nor do I need to be told I am special. I AM. And, I’m of other things, too.
Enough. That’s all the special energy I want to put into that one.
When the President said, “Women are special,” I was left feeling diminished and defined by someone who has no right to do so. Of course, I don’t have to buy into his definition, nor do I have to feel what I feel, but when a person in such power places verbal parameters around my life, it’s hard to ignore. More to the point, here is one male putting women in one category. I don’t even want to be special, nor do I need to be told I am special. I AM. And, I’m of other things, too.
Enough. That’s all the special energy I want to put into that one.