Are We Doomed to Be Materialistic?

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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• materialism