I find Virginia Woolf’s biography to be a mirrored reflection of
myself ways than I am able to relate to most women today. This great female writer and I strongly believe in documenting
everything in our lives through the written word. She corresponded with
friends, family, and kept a personal diary daily. Woolf also faced periods of
insanity. These episodes led Woolf to stay in a home for a few months. Woolf had
unsuccessful attempts with suicide. Woof and her siblings were members of an
exclusive socially elite society that put people on the spot in a direct manner.
I have not been able to identify myself directly with a female
writer. Nigel Nicholson’s direct portrayal of Virginia Woolf provides justice
for the woman she really was. This male author provides a direct link to the life of
Woolf as he and his mother knew her well. Nicholson’s first perspective of the great
Woolf living in a forest of her peers came from that of a child. From reading
how well Woolf wrote letters to everybody. I can tell Nicholson has much regret
for not saving letters she wrote him as a young child. I don’t believe this
child realized how great his friend really was to the world. To Nicholson,
Woolf never seemed to be larger than life. Nicholson provides readers with a
sense of genuine realism that meets a reader's sensitive mind. There is a fondness that feels empathetic to this woman and writer. We want the best for Woolf's life and realize at the same time how hard her life really was. There is a sense of justice. However, there is never a sense of liberation in Woolf's life from the downfall of being seen as a sex object early on in life. There is never an apology or taking responsibility on the two monsters' behalf. This led Woolf to question herself as a woman and reject men's marriage proposals left and right. Woolf battled with these painful memories until the day she tragically died.
Born in London on January 25, 1882, to Lesly and Julia Stephen, Virginia
joined siblings Laura, Vanessa, and Thoby. A younger brother, Adrian, was born after
Virginia. Julia Stephen’s first marriage produced half-siblings George, Stella,
and Gerald Duckworth. Laura was sent to live in an insane asylum by her father
early on in life. Julia passed away when Virginia turned thirteen years old. Unaffectionate
father, Lesly, passed on a couple years later. This left Vanessa, Toby,
Virginia, and Adrian vulnerable to their two half-brothers being responsible
for their care.
Both Vanessa and Virginia were seen as sex objects to George and
Gerald. These experiences provided the grounds for insanity in Virginia’s
favor. As I read this tragic part of her young girlhood, I feel more of a bond
with her. I would love to have been written into Virginia’s life as a personal
confidant and friend. My personal experience was with a female teenager (in a
manual wheelchair) who had curly brown hair. I was five years old at the time
and we both stayed inside a center designed for children. This girl would come into my room at night when everyone else was asleep. At this time, I was a child in two casts and then underwent different forms of physical therapy to recover. This girl had me do graphic sexual acts to myself. This girl would always be around me so I could not tell an adult. I do remember her, and I did make peace with this experience in 2010 with the help of a great female counselor. I was able to move on with my life and not let this bondage of anger and hurt control me anymore.
My husband experienced a
similar experienced when he was a small boy while he stayed at a babysitter’s
house in Brooklyn. Like the loving husband, Leonard Woolf, my husband understands
why I am only able to lay on his chest at night. Physical intimacy is often
times scary for a woman who has experienced trauma early on in her life. I have
prayed extremely hard to find peace in this area. My husband understands how I feel
and he loves me in spite of my fault in this area. I am able to open up about this subject now because I am not ashamed anymore. I believe strongly that God is working on me in this area so that I may be completely liberated of this bondage one day.
I had to walk away from the life of Tolstoy. I did not feel justice in overlooking the facts that Tolstoy did not support the equality of women or leaving his wife to be the responsible mature parent. I do, however, feel strong with the conviction that Tolstoy may have suffered from an undiagnosed mental illness. I did not think too fondly on the realization that Rosamund Bartlett romanticized a great writer and ruler. I did not find anything admirable about a male heiress saying nothing when a teacher took a serf to a private area to be flogged. Watching any form of abuse and standing idly does not build anybody with a good moral character. As I read this part, I lost respect for Tolstoy as a man. I had no use to read further.
The weekend weather has reminded me of the Arctic regions. As a
thirty-three year old veteran of the South, I should be used to this cold
weather by now. Each time winter arrives, I seem to enjoy the complaining part
as well as the triple digits of late summer months. I do see the winter from
the book of Ecclesiastes chapter 3 A Time
for Everything. This is most of our down time. The wonderful holidays have
passed and we are able to catch up on our thoughts. We are once again able to
realize that death and sickness do happen in our lives. Winter is about
realism. We are unable to romanticize the cold. We take the cold for what it
really appears to be in the world.
Perhaps the cozy romantic concept of sitting in a comfortable
recliner by the fireplace while drinking a mug of hot chocolate is what we love
the most about winter. I know I do. When I went to Wal Mart one day, I was
surprised to see bikinis and bathing suits already set out in the women’s
section. In January! Seeing bikinis
displayed so early in the year (and in summer) makes me want to hide each
bikini set with big shirts. Even in the summer time, I am unable to go into the
women’s section to shop for socks without feeling a twinge of embarrassment. I have
not been jealous about not having the right figure. Rather, I have sadness for
those girls or women who have fallen victims to the prey of mankind by wearing
these bikinis.
On a Women’s Rights News page on Facebook, I saw a picture of a
young lady wearing a short dress holding up a sign that read My dress is not a yes. I do agree with
this statement; however, we live in a completely different society that what
this sign says. Even when a woman is wearing professional clothes, she can be
raped, sexually assaulted, or seen as a sex object by a man. I have had two
experiences with this over the past few months. One man of about fifty years old
has tried to strike up a conversation with me while waiting at bus stop. Another
man of the same age tried to offer me some candy while I was outside of a
store.
I encourage women to be extremely careful. Walking away without
providing an explanation is fine. I did this in both situations. This did not
give the men time to open a door to anything. I felt self-confident that this
decision was best for my life. This left no room for victimization or vulnerability.
I had a strong voice in society. I do find these characteristic traits to be
valuable for a woman. Even though the equality of women were not seen in
Aristotle’s society, his virtues still apply to our modern men women. Do you
see yourself in the following virtues? If not, what could you change?
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