Are we bound by a materialist world, destined to become consumed by-products? Materialism surrounds our everyday livelihood – from the media to the whispers of a money-fill future – it seems nearly impossible to escape. Rooted in femininity and women’s self-worth, our own social media is taken over by fancy gold jewelry and overpriced juices begging us to purchase. Some influencers encourage thrifting, while others pride themselves on self-made clothing lines, yet it’s still money. Venmo’s daily cha-ching, coffee necessities on mobile orders, take out plastic containers, another pair of plain white shoes. As a college student with minimal money coming in, only flowing out, I wonder if this drive for more will ever diminish in society.
First, we observe a new trend from the media. After internalizing it, we then realize how much we truly want it. How much we need it. Do we yearn for the new ‘it item’ because everyone else has it? Individualism is hard to come by, yet we also pat ourselves on the back when our joggers are deemed original – when we are the first to showcase them. This image that society places on women, in general, is the most problematic of all, an environment that is set up to exploit insecurities and capitalize on perfection.
Womanly Soul
The mere existence of a womanly soul
Knows her place atop the grand piano
Hair pulled tightly,
Temples pulsing.
Dwindling self-confidence clashing utmost
With the term productivity –
Her jazzed up strength only comes in doses
smaller than honey-nut-cheerios.
Momentarily nourishing comfort zones,
Primarily containing and confining.
The mere existence of a womanly soul
Never hopes for greatness
Undermining her own success at a constant rate
With a false notion of unknowing.
Burn out ebbing and flowing
burn up congealed with changing visions & humility.
The color of stop signs in blazing Arizona
The color of handpicked poinsettia.
Surface level implications of online platforms
Tint my cheeks
Over first encounters
stumbled missteps
poor lighting.
The mere existence of a womanly soul
Burns the inner songbird’s lymph nodes
Humming sameness
Chirping into thin air, met with utter silence
Like cotton breeze fluttering laundry,
unconventional pink underwear.
spineless shutters of dismay
Contemporary sadness whines through movement
Repeated acts of rinsing already-raw body parts, berry-pink sugar scrubs.
The mere existence of a womanly soul
Bridges lists of nuisances
Of unwanted laughter
After a silent evening of forced grinning nods.
Disclaimer: Her Campus St. Law U is neither sponsored by nor affiliated with any brands or companies mentioned in this article.
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