ROAR! Sorry, I just had to start off that way. I simply couldn’t fight the temptation. Well, now that I have your attention, let’s talk about television. I love soaps. I simply love them. The plots and twisted lives they develop simply enthrall me. The women in these shows simply amaze me. You don’t see them sitting at home, churning butter and spending the day in the kitchen with one hand on the spatula and the other on the iron. Neither are they spending hours in front of the television as they sew buttons onto their husbands’ shirts. No, they have it all now. These women are powerful. They have everything: money, power, positions of authority, the cutthroat mentality, heels that could crack floors and brains like we’ve never seen them have before. They are smart. They know exactly what they want, and they know exactly how they are going to get it. Yet the other day, I was a bit perturbed by what I saw. During a commercial break in the middle of “Guiding Light,” a soap opera I have loyally viewed, since the third grade, everyday from three to four p.m., I began to notice something about these amazing women. While staring blankly at a fabric softener commercial — through which I usually used to sit and ponder the suspenseful dialogue or fade into a daydream about the show’s gorgeous Romeo coming to life into my living room — I froze. I had a flash of enlightenment. Sure, these women were all-powerful, on top of the world and completely self-sufficient. Yet each and every one of those I could think of had a life that was primarily consumed of getting what they want, which in every case was a MAN! Yes, I began to panic and beads of sweat were rolling down my face as I realized that these exemplary women spend the majority of their time plotting, scheming, faking pregnancies, slapping their competition across the face, spreading rumors about other women and even harming themselves for the sole purpose of getting their man’s attention and love. These women, whom I so deeply idolize, cannot get over their insatiable need for the affections of their chosen one, and do whatever it takes to get them! It’s a trick, I thought to myself, a lousy trick. These producers and directors, who seem so keen on pleasing the female audience with their views of what a strong woman is, simply dupe their innocent audience into believing that a strong, self-sufficient, woman of the nineties, however strong she is, still needs to have a man — and cannot function without him. Sure, these ladies aren’t thrown back into the kitchen, told to sit at home or even urged to make dinner. Yet they themselves show that their number one priority in life is still winning the love of men, and that they do anything humanly possible to fulfill this priority! How often do we honestly see men on television forging the results of a paternity test, or making up ridiculous stories to tell their girlfriend or wife about the man next door who is obviously attracted to her? How often do we hear a man say, “I will do whatever it takes to keep her with me,” or purposely hurt himself so that his knightress in shining armor will come to his rescue? The answer is very rarely, if not never. Men are shown to be strong, simple creatures who fall prey to love, but do not obsess over it. It is the women that go psychotic and that will stop at nothing for a man, no matter what other significant events may be taking place in their lives. And, frankly, this disgusts me. These are not forceful, independent women of the nineties, but weak, dependent, pitiful excuses for such an honorable title. If these women are supposed to have confidence, why will they even want someone who doesn’t, from the beginning, completely want them? As I turned off the television that cold, cold day, I contemplated how I would not completely lose faith in the progression that women have made as of late, and deal with the pain of losing my role models. I’m sorry ladies. Until I see that women can not only survive, but seem to be happy without that man that they are so deeply in love with, I must abandon my reverence for these shows and these women, and perhaps, for once, give myself the option of a 3:00 class. Hear Me Roar appears Tuesdays in The Hoya.

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