for #2 there might be other ways out also, like a forced early birth of the child as soon as it could survive – so no abortion necessary when a birth could help the mother as well.

mjkj

Our minds work differently; we approach life differently. The genders also have experiences unique to themselves. Few men are comfortable discussing menstration, mostly because they don’t experience it. Few women can understand the male struggle with images or the hunger for respect. It’s easier to give someone compassion when you don’t need a reference manual in your hand.

Additionally, many people naturally feel more comfortable discussing their deepest wounds with someone who is “like” them, someone who has been in the same place before. I can and have helped my male friends through their struggles, but my advice has a limit: experience. Sometimes it doesn’t matter that I am female and my friend is male. Sometimes, it does matter.

One of the most prevalent types of wounds in our world happens against sexuality. We receive barrages of contradictory messages; we are victims and survivors if abuse; we have made mistakes and paid in blood. For such a deeply personal hurt, we tend to perceive, often subconsciously, the opposite sex as a threat. Either the other sex becomes the monster in the dark or it becomes the focus of codependence. Neither is conducive to healing.

I’ve received guidance, comfort, and help from many male friends. I have been privileged to offer the same to many male friends. I do hope the trend continues. Yet I feel and think that some discussions would turn into awkward pauses that hinder healing were they had between the sexes. For one, I would be embarrassed as heck to talk about certain things with a man. And I know there are aspect of male life that I do NOT want the details of. But I could easily talk with another woman about [topic] and get opinions, advice, and a sympathetic sounding board. And if a man of my acquaintance really needs to discuss [topic], I want him to get the same kinds of benefits. Which means talking to someone other than me.

The ultimate focus of this blog entry was for those deepest, longest-existing wounds that we carry around, not the short-term problems. Car trouble, bosses, family, those are often closer to the surface and the sex of the caring friend may not matter so much. The terror of lost independence we fall into when the car breaks down because it brings to mind a past trauma; the reaction to a boss’ attitude stemming from something from years ago; the utter despair of failing those you were supposed to protect … That may require a same-sex friend who has been through that ICU before.

Every person and every relationship is unique, and I don’t attempt to speak to each. But in general, it is a good and healthy thing to have a mix of friends from both genders with whom you had solid relationships. Connect with at least one of each to give yourself some balance. And don’t ever accept that dark whisper that you are alone, with no one to care if you just disappeared.

Whether or not the statistics support that claim, I’ve always felt better about myself when I take that approach. I’ve also found a few surprises that entrench that philosophy.

I’m not sure I understand your rationale for the same-sex friends, though. Care to expound?

So I guess she doesn’t pass muster just yet.

So what do you think about muscle-bound barbarian women? Are they strong or just compensating?

Not to send you on a time killing journey to trope-ville. I’ve heard of it via a friend with a Ph.D. in Women’s Studies. It doesn’t directly relate to what you’ve asked, more indirectly. It’s about a) the presence of females in a work and b) whether their existence is ‘defined’ by males in terms of the storyline.

Directly to your question – when I think of strong females I tend to think more of mental strength or strength of will. The woman who cares for her family despite hardships with little complaint (’cause none is hardly realistic ) being the classic example.