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6 Dec


This is part three in an ongoing series on the “War on Women” by author S.H. Townsend.

  war 2

Because of the many battles I have fought against my will, my perspective of men and women was even more distorted. I honestly didn’t want to fight, but I’m so glad I had the strength to do so, and I do thank my mother’s partner for that. She did groom me to be a strong woman, despite the other things she misrepresented to me in my young life. My mother was also a strong woman, but she didn’t find her strength until later in life, but I knew she had it in her.

 When I met my husband, to whom I’m still happily married, I told him point blank that the last thing I needed was another man to run my life. He was completely gob smacked by my forwardness and by what I had said to him. I was surprised he didn’t run away, and who could have blamed him? He stayed, much to my chagrin. I honestly tried to push him away and run him off, but he wasn’t budging.

war on women b

 My husband was raised by an older generation. His parents were fourteen years older than my parents when they had him. They were raised by an older generation as well. My husband was taught to open doors for women carry bags and other heavy objects for them, and in general how to conduct himself in the presence of the fairer sex. (This was another term I hated with a passion.) He was brought up to be a complete gentleman, but I was certainly no lady. (I’m still not, and that’s okay. I was made for war, not smelling salts.)

 The first time my husband opened the door for me, I looked at him and said, “My arms aren’t broken.” Again, he had a puzzled expression on his face similar to the one he wore when I told him the last thing I needed was another man to run my life. He insisted upon opening doors for me and paying for things, again much to my chagrin. I tried to put a stop to it, but I couldn’t. I even told him that he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell with me, but he was persistent, and his persistence paid off.

war on women c

  I gave in to my feelings for him, the feelings I kept hidden behind the mask I wore. I was afraid he would hurt and betray me just like the other men in my life had done. Instead, he accepted the terms and conditions of me, my flaws, my distorted perceptions, and my issues, and he loved me. He still loves me.

 Eventually, I got used to being treated like the woman that I am, and I began to like it. It wasn’t so bad, having someone open my door, carry my things, and do the things that I’m actually capable of doing, but it’s nice. Those things didn’t change who I am. It changed my attitude about myself as a woman, but it didn’t make me any less of a strong woman.

  I still have enough backbone for two people, and I am still woman, hear me roar.

 Now I just roar about different things.

 war on women d



S.H. TOWNSEND: The War on Women – More of a battle for some.

20 Nov


This is the 2nd in a series from S.H. Townsend dealing with a conservative woman’s perspective on the “war on women”.

war 4

Is there a war on women? How has it affected me? I have found myself in the midst of battles for which I was unprepared.

It was drilled into my head by my mother’s partner that all men were scum and couldn’t be trusted, but I also came to the conclusion that women couldn’t be trusted. This was after being bullied by my female peers throughout junior high school over, wouldn’t you know it, boys.

I had very few real female friends. I felt like they were all out to hurt each other. I had witnessed it many times, the catty remarks, the backhanded compliments, the unspoken competitions between women, and I didn’t want to participate in any of it. I found most females to be boy crazy. I had no interest in chatting about such insipid topics as men’s bums, or engaging in ridiculous debates about who was the hottest guy, so I became one of the guys.

war on women 1

There were times when my male peers treated like the female that I am. I thought it was chauvinistic and rude, and I chastised them for it. I was woman, hear me roar! My male peers were in fact not really doing anything wrong, but I didn’t see it that way at the time.

One of the biggest battles into which I was thrust was during my first marriage. A huge portion of the battles took place at a church I attended with my first husband, who was probably the king of chauvinists. It wasn’t his fault. His father was a chauvinist, and the church he attended upheld chauvinist beliefs and had absolutely no respect for women. Women were to be seen and not heard. Women were not allowed to make important decisions. Women could play the piano and sing. Women could be Sunday school teachers and worship leaders, but a woman leader? That’s not of God! Women are subject to the men! WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SILENT IN CHURCH!

During the last few months of my marriage, my first husband got arrested on a bench warrant. The pastor of the First Church of the Misogynist of Latter Day Saints* (and probably not the last) told me that I had no right to be angry. Of course I was angry! I had to take a day off work and spend money I didn’t have to bail him out of jail!

My marriage was nearing its eventual end. I sought help from the church. I was under the impression that churches were filled with kind people who lived to serve others, because it was what Jesus did during his lifetime. I admitted to the church that my marriage was falling apart.

Throughout my two year attendance, I was told that my husband’s sin was my fault. I didn’t pray or fast enough. I wasn’t a good wife. I did everything I thought a good wife should do. Proverbs 31 was my guide. I did every single one of the things possible to do, but it still wasn’t good enough to save my marriage. I WAS PERFECT, and it was killing me.

I went to the church for help. I told them how I was doing everything in Proverbs 31, and I was told it still wasn’t enough. Upon hearing that statement, I told the pastor if the church refused to help me, I was filing for divorce. The pastor’s response was, “He’s your mule.”

war on women 2

I never agreed to a marriage with a husband who ran the bars and brought other women home. (I felt more hatred toward women because he brought so many into our home.) I pointed out that the vows had broken and I was done. The pastor’s response was, “If you divorce him, you’ll go straight to Hell, and so will any man you marry.” I was beyond the valley of angry. I should have just shut up and left, but the words, “I’ll see you there,” escaped my lips. I left that church and didn’t look back.

Stay tuned for part three, where I will further discuss my experiences on the battlefield.


18 Nov

To my loyal readers:  This is the first column in my series dealing candidly with the so-called “war on women” in the United States. 

war 3

Is there a war on women? If so, how has it affected me? These questions sound like a run of the mill college essay questions for a women’s studies course, don’t they? I find these questions thought provoking.

This is not just a topic limited to the female population of readers. I would like for the men to weigh in as well. I’m fairly sure that men on the sidelines of some of the battles have witnessed injuries, as well as casualties in this war. Maybe the women in their lives have inexplicably found themselves locked in a battle for which they hadn’t prepared.

I too have been thrust into battles for which I had not prepared. In my defense, I wasn’t aware that I needed to prepare for battle. Nobody informed me about this war, but little did I know I was being groomed for it by one of its key players.

war 4

I was raised in an “alternative” household. That’s what they called it during my childhood. To put it into terminology that everyone can fully comprehend, I was raised by a lesbian couple. My brother and I were instructed to keep quiet about it, because had the authorities been alerted, we would have been immediately removed from the home and taken away a mother who loved us and took care of us.

Please understand, I am not trying to turn this into an article about gay couples raising children, nor will I engage in a debate on this topic. My upbringing is imperative to my perspective of the war on women. I understand that people are curious, and I encourage valid inquiries about my upbringing. I also understand that people can be rude and judgmental. I had my fair share of teasing in junior high regarding the fact that I was raised by a lesbian couple.

My mother’s former partner was a misogynist. She abhorred men with a passion. She was proud to be a woman, but she wanted to be treated like man. Her attitude toward both genders left me quite perplexed as a child.

war 2

When my mother’s partner was a child, her identity was stolen from her by her mother. She was forced to wear dresses and have long hair. The same thing was then done to me by her. Gone were my lace dresses and patent leather shoes, replaced by caps, jeans, and tee shirts.

When I became interested in boys, which tends to happen during teenagedom (a term I coined, because teenagers think they rule and reign) my mother’s partner hated every single guy I brought home. She informed me that I was just as good as any man, and none of those boys were worth my time or energy. She was thrilled when I broke my engagement, and angry when I attempted to reconcile with him. We were unable to repair our relationship.

Is there a war on women? I was thrown into this war from birth, and I never even got to choose whether or not I wanted to participate.

How has it affected me? I will discuss how the war has affected me in part two.

war 1

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