Helen
After nearly 30 years of practice, I finally have the Heartless Bitchiness (HB) qualities down to a fine art, beginning with the spectacular meltdown in class. Why? Because I realised that being nice meant you weren't noticed. I was fortunate; my mother who is one of the founding members of the HB movement said to the schoolteachers "I consider this situation to be your problem, you are not actually teaching my daughter anything useful by assuming that she will learn by osmosis."
I discovered early on being intelligent and opinionated was not a great way to win friends and influence people, particularly if those people were girls who wore pink and played with dolls. Again, my mother was wise and came to my rescue. She taught me that the way to avoid being bullied was to make friends with the other kids who were the victims of bullies. My school as one of the first mainstreaming schools, so there were plenty of targets, and we formed a great wee posse. I've always sought out the odd balls and alternative people ever since.
Although I got religion and attempted conformity between ages of 13 and 19 years old, I still couldn't avoid being noticed for my considerable ability to court controversy. The queen of the outcasts does not make friends with the school sex god. Yet we were; my intuition was right that he wanted female friendship, not worship as a young man doubting his sexuality.
In my hall of residence at University, yet again I was standing out but because I questioned both the reasoning of the "fucking everything that had a dick" crowd, and the conventions associated with orthodox religious practice, including the low role of women in many of the churches popular with my peer group.
Fortunately, I found Quakers at that point, and while turning up with a shaved head, Doc Martin boots and an attitude was not perhaps the ideal start; I was embraced by women up to 4 times my age as a sister in spirit.
From that point, I could find friendships, mostly with men because as I got into my stride with education I soon began to be too smart for most women and less and less comfortable with conforming to the "be more stupid than you mate" rules.
I will admit, I failed on the HB test when I struck up with my now ex husband. I'm afraid I swallowed the bullshit that love and sex are somehow synonymous. A mistake I admit, should have listened to my body as it told me that something was not adding up.
Still, being with him strengthened my HB credentials, and the fact he still hates me so much is something I wear with pride. If one is going to be blamed as being responsible for someone being miserable, one better also claim responsibility for famine in Africa and global warming as well.
Post husband I learned that fucking was for fun and relationships were a matter of choice. I proved to be lousy at one-night stands, not because I was needy and dependent, but because the guys were always keen to keep it going. I'm still friends to this day with some of these guys.
Even being a mistress was something I put a HB spin on. Despite this person being the best match I have ever had, I told him that his role was to remain as a father for his daughters. I ended it, as I was not prepared to be the "woman who broke up a family". I know he took my words seriously, went and mended his marriage and is a father who will raise HB daughters.
My current partner was a fuck buddy, whom fell for me and had to pursue me half way round the world. We have a relationship which is the meeting of minds, and although I have supported him to grow and develop himself (he had severe dyslexia which was unaddressed and I have helped him gain a professional qualification despite this), it is reciprocal as he will now support me in my PhD studies.
This leads me into my professional life, in a profession, which is over 95% female. Training was a trial and a torture, because for once in my life I had to conform to female attitudes and behaviours to pass the assessments and exams.
What helped was it was my Mum's profession, so I knew things could be different, and I have been more or less careful in selecting my managers and bosses since then, either selecting ones that were too stupid to realise I wasn't playing the normal game, or other members of the HB sisterhood.
Being a HB gives me a different perspective and worldview, and as a matter of fortunate circumstance, I now have achieved a seniority, which allows me to be a brilliant innovator without undue criticism being leveled at me. I still have a reputation for being tough and outspoken, particularly when dealing with doctors.
Standing on the threshold of my 4th decade, I am content with my HB status. I'm currently in battle with my gynecologist for permanent sterilization despite being nulliparous. I like children, I respect people's right to have children, but I am not about to have one myself.
Being a HB is a post-feminist attitude. Feminism has been hijacked so that being able to have choices means most women decide to do everything, and hang themselves up with guilt for not doing anything to their own high standards. As a HB, I have chosen where I want to focus my life, and I know I am not going to have everything, but I am not going to carry guilt either.
This shows in my life where I can be a listening ear to a woman who is a prostitute and a catholic priest, and see them both as human beings, not the sum of their behaviour.
In a past life, I would have either been sainted or burned as a witch; there is little space between those two as both are an expression of HB-ery.
Other factors, I have strong traits for Asperger's Syndrome and have had battles with my mental health most of my adult life, but I refuse to be a victim and give up.
I have turned those traits, those battles into parts of me, which allow me as an individual to be empathic and generous. If that is being a Heatless Bitch, then I am proud to be one.
Country: United Kingdom
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