Ready or not

It had been a while since my grandmother had last visited. By then, I had turned fourteen. The first thing she exclaimed as soon as she saw me was: “Now, that one is marriageable.” And she was right. I definitely looked seventeen, and felt that way too.

Besides intense days of schoolwork, I played demanding classical pieces on my instruments, and in my spare time I read Nietzsche and the works of the major psychoanalysts. And I was ready for love. Love in the arms of a man. The hormones were dancing, and dancing wildly.

I had to find a grown man, since boys at fourteen were still boys. As it was the early 1970s and the hippies’ ‘free love’ attitude was in the air, I reckoned that would be an easy venture. I found a few beautiful and talented men, all of them single. The easiest thing in the world lay ahead of me. But no! There seemed to be an invisible wall I couldn’t get past. Apart from a few loving, rather friendly caresses in their beds, nothing happened at all. I was ready – couldn’t they see?

Only some time later did I learn that the law forbade them – whether I was ready or not. It took another three years before the real thing happened, and then it was a nearly sobering experience, as the initial spark and enthusiastic drive had long passed.

A girl may feel ready in every way long before the law says she is. In my case, this correlated with Osho’s view that we become sexually mature around age fourteen. Still, we all have to wait for the official start, determined by each society’s legislation. The men I had pestered as a teenager were aware of that, and abided by the law.

And just as I could tell a boy from a man, all men must practise distinguishing between a girl and a sexually mature woman. They have to – the sexual act is more precarious for the female partner, as it involves opening her body in such a vulnerable way, with potentially immediate consequences such as venereal diseases, pregnancy or abortion.

Since these are serious challenges even for an adult woman, a girl is unprepared to deal with all that. And that’s where the age restriction, which each society defines for itself, comes in. Apart from its reasonable function of protection, this can create a dilemma for the individual, as in my case.

What makes a man fond of a teenage girl, or even a younger one, in the first place? A narcissistic trait such as “I’m the very first to touch and possess this fresh, pristine body”? Is it competitive thinking? “She chose me among (in the case of Osho’s communes) thousands of other men, almost all of them lovable, vivacious and intelligent.” Or is it a twisted, fatherly attitude? “She seems lonely, insecure (or whatever) – let me take care of her – ready or not.”

A mature man will have an attitude of benevolent support and respect towards a girl, rather than exploiting her immaturity, or her helplessness in the face of the onset of hormonal rushes. That’s what separates a boy from a man – or rather, the still immature boy inside the body of an adult.

Featured image: Birmingham Museums Trust auf Unsplash

Radhika

Radhika is a writer, poet and designer.