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The Feminine Mystique

9:13 PM | Labels: The Feminine Mystique, Under the Hill

I recently decided to compile some of my essays into a short book titled, Under the Hill: One Thirty-Something Woman's Musings on Spinsterhood, Disappointment and Accidental Self Discovery. Anyone who has read my column knows that they are a type of satire, a comedic way of looking at the very real problems and concerns that single women in their thirties face. These columns are meant to be fun, so imagine my surprise when I received my first review and it wasn’t a complaint about the grammar or the writing style, it was a tirade about my audacity to pass frivolous musings off as feminism when any real woman worth her salt would be focused on serious world issues.

Well, excuse me.

Under the Hill isn’t trying to redefine feminism, in fact, feminism is not a concept that I really embrace; but as the role of women continue to evolve, and women find themselves creating their own norms, I have to wonder, what is today’s feminist mystique?

For those who may not be familiar with the book of this title, The Feminine Mystique was published in 1963 by Betty Friedan and focused on the growing unhappiness of suburban housewives following World War II. While women were supposed to be content with marriage, family and the big house with the white picket fence, they weren’t, and the reality of this set off a whole new dialogue about what a modern woman should do with her life. Friedan pointed out that women were being pushed to marry by the male dominated media of the time who portrayed women as either happy housewives or unhappy, neurotic careerists. This dichotomy created the "feminine mystique"—the idea that women were naturally fulfilled by devoting their lives to being housewives and mothers. This was in contrast to the previous feminist movement of the 1920’s and 1930’s which portrayed single women with careers as confident and independent heroines. Thus, in a generation, women had been placed back in a box that they had outgrown decades.

While I have no desire to debate whether women find fulfillment in their careers or their families, I think everybody is different, I do wonder why some people still feel the need to tell women who they should be in order to truly be happy and matter in this world. It sometimes feels like a confusing trap. Women who aren’t married are sometimes made to feel like inadequate losers, while women who worry about marrying are deemed as weak and ignorant complainers who need to embrace their independence and focus on world peace.

Whatever.

I often think that the reason that Sex in the City was so popular was because it gave us a new type of feminism, one that showed that women could “have it all” ---- the independent and fabulously stylish life of their dreams and prince charming. Think about it, in Carrie Bradshaw’s world buying a pair of shoes and getting married were given equal importance. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte decided the parameters of their own reality, they created their own “feminine mystique” and instead of being judged, people respected them for it.

What got me about the review wasn’t the negative rating; I know that there are people who are going to hate Under the Hill and some of the other things I write. It was all the assumptions that the reviewer seemed to make. I was obviously an idiot with my head in the clouds. I couldn’t be a journalist, a political activist, a social worker, a mentor, or a business woman, not when I was taking a tongue and cheek look at life and love that revealed fears that were personal, small, intimate and sometimes immature in nature; a serious woman would never do that.

As I get older, I realize that you can either define yourself by how others view you, or stand firm on who you know you are. The Feminine Mystique has to be The Angie Mystique and I get to define what that is. Everyone is a critique, but not every criticism is one that we should embrace as our own personal truth.

till next month…

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Black Like Me

9:30 PM | Labels: "Light-Skinned". "Good Hair", Black Like Me, Colorism, Dark Girls, Under the Hill

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

I was watching the trailer for the upcoming documentary Dark Girls, produced by Bill Duke for Duke Media, and literally let out a loud sigh when it was over. Call me naive, but I really had convinced myself that this type of colorism belonged to the 1980’s, when “light-skinned” girls were in vogue and you “made it” if you caught the eye of the pretty boy, with curly hair and light eyes, who sat next to you in math class. The longer I stay single, the more I have to beat back those old insecurities that plagued me as a young girl, and my skin color is one of them. In a world where black women are still judged by how close we come to the European standard of beauty that America worships, I have to wonder, is it ever going to be okay to be black like me?

I am not considered to be "dark," but I am the darkest one of my maternal cousins and it was hard on me. They were "light-skinned" with "pretty", “good” hair and I was “smart.” My aunts, who were all darker than me, where thrilled to have their beautiful daughters, while my mom, who was lighter than them, just had to make do. She never seemed to mind that her daughter wasn’t “the fairest of them all,” but I always felt inadequate. There were the times when a friend’s mother said that, “light-skinned women are beautiful, even if they are ugly.” There was the time when my mom’s friend went nuts because after generations of careful color engineering her very fair daughter had the nerve to being home a very dark boy. There was the time when my cousins shook their very long hair in my face. Then, there were all the years I listened to my best friend, the “light-skinned, long-haired goddess” Vienna, talk about which guy she was going to give the time of day when nobody seemed to want to look at me.

I was surprised by the long buried feelings this trailer brought back up in me. I didn’t think that I still carried that baggage because I had grown into a beautiful, successful woman and all my “light-skinned” counterparts had grown into women I didn’t want to be. But all, “I got the last laugh” clichés aside, I realize that being made to feel inferior based on your looks is not something that you can outgrow. I think it’s made worse by the perception, true or not, that black men seem to want anybody but us black women. Many black women have been made to feel undesirable simply by being themselves and it cuts us deep. “The problem with you black women,”: they’ll say, “is x,y,z”, but the REAL problem with us black women is that we don’t look like the models, singers and movie stars that men have been taught to adore. I don’t know what the solution is to this, but I do know that I’m glad that we are still having this conversation. It is the only way to begin the healing and to put a real end to this nonsense.

Every little girl is told that she is beautiful and every woman is encouraged to look in the mirror and be proud of what she sees, but most of the time it feels like empty words that are said to “ugly ducklings” with a wink and a smile. Maybe, the real problem is that we have to stop letting others tell us that we don’t look the way they want us to look; that we have to do the hardest thing in the world --- validate ourselves; that we have to BELIEVE in our own beauty; that we have to stop using what our ancestors gave us --- our hair, our lips, our skin, as weapons instead of as gifts. Maybe then, “dark” will no longer be that dirty word that black girls are afraid to hear.

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The Invisible Sex

11:04 PM | Labels: domestic violence, The Invisible Sex, Under the Hill

I was reading a story about a man who murdered his girlfriend, their two children, and himself, in front of his girlfriend’s oldest children and my mouth literally fell open when I scrolled down to the comment section and found a page full of condolences, not for the murdered woman, or her children, but for the “good guy” who “helped everybody.” When a woman posted that “good guys” don’t kill their girlfriends, and that he was probably abusing this woman for years before finally killing her, a slew of hateful, ignorant, and may I add, misogynistic responses quickly materialized. I won’t recount them all, but the basic gist of them were that if there was abuse going on it was nobody’s business, and if she was being abused, and chose to stay with the psycho, then what happened in that car was her fault. I was floored and I had to ask myself, despite all of our gains, are women still the invisible sex?

Think for a minute. I’m willing to bet that you know, or have known, someone who is a victim of intimate partner violence. Not surprising given the fact that domestic violence can take many different forms: physical, emotional, sexual and economic. It affects women and men of every age, race and class. It can happen to anybody---even you.

African American women seem to get the worst of it. According to The Institute on Domestic Violence in the African American community, African-American women experience intimate partner violence at rates 35% higher than their White counterparts and 2.5 times the rate of men and other races. In addition, African Americans account for a disproportionate number of intimate partner homicides. In 2005, African American accounted for almost 1/3 of the intimate partner homicides in this country. These are staggering statistic that reminds us that too many of our mothers, sisters, wives, brothers and friends are trapped in a never-ending cycle of generational violence.

As African Americans, our lives often seemed marred by violence. We see it in our homes, in our schools, and in our streets. Too many of us see hitting, punching, and screaming as normal reactions to conflict, and it’s not. I was raised to understand that I never put my hands on anyone and I should never allow anyone to put their hands on me. It’s almost a quaint notion in a society that has somehow come to believes that women can “give as good as they get” and “deserve” to suffer if they get out of line. Somehow, we have forgotten to love and cherish each other. We’ve forgotten that real women don’t hit and real men walk away from a volatile situation, no matter how hard that chose may be. We will never get anywhere as a community if we can’t stop hurting each other --- spiritually, emotionally and physically.

I work with women who are victims of domestic violence and the number one question I get is, “why don’t they just leave?” It’s not a question with an easy answer.

· Many fear that they cannot survive emotionally without their partner. I once had a woman tell me that, “I wasn’t starved for money or for courage, I was starved for love, and I’d accept anything to get it.”

· Many feel that they can’t survive financially without their partner.

· Many do not want to break up their families.

· Also, for many, violence may be all they know, and they convince themselves that what they are going through isn’t really that bad.

· Then there is the very real threat of more violence and even death. Many times, when a partner threatens to kill their mate if they leave they are not kidding.

As African American women, we need to make our voices heard and demand respect. It is not okay to kill, maim, burn or defile us in anyway. It is not okay to take us from our babies, and force us to leave motherless children who will never be whole again. The appalling treatment of so many of us should not be treated as business as usual. It should not be rationalized as something that we deserve. It should not be ignored. We can close or eyes and try to pretend that intimate partner violence is not that bad, or deny it is even happening, but the invisible often materializes at the most inconvenient times, reminding us that some things cannot be wished away. We must stand up for those who we cannot see, but who we know need us the most.

till next month…

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Worthwhile Pursuits

9:02 PM | Labels: Relationships, Under the Hill, Worthwhile Pursuits

I was having lunch with a co-worker and her friend when her friend suddenly announced that she was looking for a new man, one who “could bring home the bacon.” As she continued with her “a good man is hard to find diatribe,” I realized that this woman wanted a lot in a man, but from what I could tell, she didn’t really have much to offer this ubermate in return. She smokes like a chimney, screams like a banshee when she is angry, and has a hard time staying faithful to the man she “loves.” She’s nobody’s prize, yet her expectations for her men were enormous. This got me thinking: Do women think about their own worth when they proclaim what they want in a man?

There is an old saying that when you pick a mate you need to be equally yoked. If you are successful, you need someone who is successful. If you’re a Christian, you don’t want to marry an atheist. If you’re a high school dropout who lives on welfare well…you get the picture. So, why do so many women seem to think that they can expect so much when they offer so little? Let’s face it ladies, when an unkempt, bus riding, unemployed male asks for the digits we’re insulted, even if we are sitting on the bus right next to him.

Finding a man worthy of your time is hard, I know, believe me I know, but when we start listing off the qualification that we want in a man maybe we need to count how many things on the list we have. I’m guilty of this too. My dream man was always a rich doctor or a lawyer with the looks of a model and the personality of a saint, yet for years I was happy with my B.A. and was struggling to find stable employment. I was battling the bulge and I was taking snarkiness to a whole new level. It wasn’t until I took a hard look at myself, and was honest about where I was in life, that I knew that my “mate wanted ad” needed tweaking. I was looking for a man to carry me to the Promise Land of wealth and security and couldn’t understand why I kept being dropped! Don’t get me wrong, all women should have standards, but if you’re going to set your bar high, you need to be able to reach that bar yourself. Once I started to work for, and achieve, the things I wanted in a man, I realized that I had become the person I was always looking for. I had become successful and accomplished and I didn’t need a man to get me where I wanted to go.

Today, I’m a fantastic catch and any man who steps to me has to have it going on because I have it going on. I can ask a lot, because I’m worth it.

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Under the Hill -- The Book

12:40 PM | Labels: Book, Under the Hill

I'm currently in the process of collecting all my essays from my Under the Hill column and publishing it as a book. Part memoir, part self-help book, it takes an irreverent look at what its like to work, love and live as a thirty-something singleton. So, keep your eye out for Under the Hill: Musings of a Thirty-something Singleton. Coming this July.

If you'd like to learn more about the book, email me at aparkeronline@yahoo.com.

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Petty Things

8:41 PM | Labels: co-workers, Petty Things, toxic relationships, Under the Hill

Recently a co-worker of mine, who I’ll refer to as the Q-Tip due to her big, gray afro, finally got the boot after terrorizing the office for years. The whole company went into shock. Nobody expected to be rid of her, but what surprised me more than her offing was the giddiness it inspired in everybody. One co-worker, who had offered to help her pack, couldn’t stop laughing when he told me that he was looking for a box; another started dancing as she let out a salutation about the “Goodness of God. “ I too was enjoying her ousting. She had taken a particular dislike to me from day one and I found her paranoia and backbiting to be intolerable. But after a few days of wallowing in her misfortune, I found myself wondering --- why was I so willing to indulge in petty things?

When I was younger gossip was a huge part of my life. My days were filled with figuring out who was doing what and watching a rival fall was as good as it got. I just assumed I’d outgrow it, but, try as I might, there seems to be a part of me that can’t let go of my inner mean girl.

What is so tragic to me about the Q-Tip’s situation is that she is a 60-year-old woman who nobody likes. I can’t tell you how many times I complained that she was too old to be acting like an insecure girl. But was I any better, gossiping behind her back and playing into her games? Embracing maturity sometimes means taking a step back from a situation to see what we are doing wrong. Sometimes a person is our “enemy” because we allow them to be. Up until recently I was still talking about how much I disliked my eighth grade teacher! What does that say about me? While I was busying listing crimes committed against me, how many crimes was I committing out of anger and a refusal to forgive? How many opportunities was I missing because I refused to compromise with somebody “I didn’t like”?

I decided to take a look at all my “toxic” relationships and see if I ever offered an olive branch? Or tried to understand where the other person was coming from? The answer was no. Now, we all know that there is going to be that one person who, despite our best efforts to be nice, continues to be unreasonable and rude, but that’s when we have to put our money where our mouth is and act the way we wish they would. As I watched the Q-Tip walk down the hall into an uncertain future I forgave her for all her transgressions against me, both real and imagined, and I forgave myself, feeling lighter as some of the petty things that were holding me back floated away with her.

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Everything in Its Time

5:12 PM | Labels: anointed time, column, Everything in its Time, Iyanla Vanzant, Oprah Winfrey, thirty-five, Under the Hill, waiting

I was watching Oprah's two-part interview with former protégée and self-help guru Iyanla Vanzant and was riveted to the screen as Iyanla explained why she walked away from Oprah eleven years ago to do her own show with Barbara Walters. Since then Iyanla has fallen on hard times, while Oprah’s other protégées --- Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Suze Orman and Rachel Ray--- have found fame and fortune. Iyanla's story struck a very strong cord with me, not for what she said, but for what she couldn't bring herself to say --- that after a few appearances on Oprah she began to believe her own hype, thought she could be the next Oprah, and learned all too quickly that the grass is rarely greener on the other side. This doesn’t make Iyanla “stupid,” ungrateful” or any of the other negative things people have accused her of being since the shows aired. Let’s face it, we’ve all looked at our boss and/coworker and thought that we could do their job better in our sleep. If Iyanla’s gamble had paid off we’d be patting her on the back for her bravery, but the whole thing did get me thinking, does every big life decision really happen at an anointed time?

I turned thirty-five a few days ago and it threw me into yet another reevaluation of my life. I’ve always had big dreams of being a bestselling authoress and publishing my own newsmagazine, but we all know that hopes and dreams without implementation are worthless. We have to work to make our dreams come true, and yes, sometimes we are going to fall face first into a pile of failure and humiliation to get there. But I do wonder how many times we hold back on doing something because we are waiting “for the right time?” Iyanla spoke of God telling her that it was the “anointed time” to do her own show, but most of us don’t have such strong convictions when we are trying to decide whether to stay in a situation or move on; we are full of trepidation, constantly wondering if we should really fold the cards we are holding.

Staying put or moving on is a question that we are always going to be faced with. Personally, I believe that when we aren’t sure what to do that it’s ok to do nothing. Sometimes we are not as ready to move up as we think. We need more training, more mentorship, and more life experiences. We need to learn to appreciate where we are and use it as a learning experience. We have to be careful not to blow chances that can get us where we need to be because we are in too much of a hurry to get where we think we should be. I truly believe that moving forward is part of being successful, but if we are lucky enough to be in a space where we can learn, then we should learn and grow. We’ll be better people for it and better prepared when the time does come to walk into our future.

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Thirty-Something Hags

10:43 PM | Labels: 35, Carrie Mae, Fukui University, hag, mirror mirror, SK-II, Snow White, Under the Hill

Fig. 3 Carrie Mae Weems, ‘Mirror/Mirror’

Good God, just when I thought it was safe to surf through the Internet as a woman of certain age, I read a story based on how researchers at the Japanese skincare brand SK-II have conducted a study with Fukui University that has pin pointed the exact age that women lose their looks --- 35.09.

I have no idea where the .09 comes from, but I'm guessing that it's to compensate for the fact that you still have a few days after the magic number before the ugliness takes hold. Of course, they want you to know you can save yourself from this fate by buying their products.

Now, I'm not going to jump all over these MEN for playing on our mirror mirror complex, our need to be the prettiest one of them all. We're the ones who leave ourselves wide open to this. There is only one thing worse then being THIRTY --- being THIRTY-FIVE and it doesn't take much to freak most of us out as we begin our slide to FORTY.

Product shilling aside, we can't ignore the lengths that women go through to hold on to their youth and beauty. My favorite example of this is Snow White and her Stepmother.

Everyone knows the story of the sweet beautiful ingenue who is forced to flee her kingdom when her aging stepmother can’t accept the fact that she is now old news and Snow White is now the fresh, young thing in the kingdom.

What’s funny about this is that the Queen is still beautiful, not to mention powerful, but she cannot stand being reminded that her youth is fading.

Many people see Snow White as a tale about the importance of inner beauty, but it’s all about what happens when you lose your looks.

Snow White’s face wins her the day. Her fresh beauty raises her stepmother’s ire, endears her to the dwarfs and wins her Prince Charming. Would he have married a perfect stranger if he wasn’t so blinded by her beauty? Throw in the fact that Stepmother Dearest needed a mirror, and a male mirror at that, to affirm her self-worth and that in order to kill her young threat she had to accept her role as an old crone and you have the worst example of aging gracefully EVER.

I often wondered how Snow White dealt with losing her looks when the time came and if she ever grew to appreciate her step mother’s dilemma? Sure, she was a bit touched in the head, but are we so hard on Snow White’s stepmother because we fear we will become her?

Mirror, Mirror in the wall am I still a pretty girl after all?

No matter what we say, we want to be pretty. It gives us power as a woman and we like having that power. Feeling insecure about myself is nothing new to me. I’ve always struggled with weight and never feeling pretty. I was smart and witty; two things I honed to ensure that I was never invisible to the people who I wanted to see me. As I’ve gotten older I realize that my outer self isn’t that bad to look at, in fact I’m pretty fine, but sometimes I question if I’ll never stop being that little girl who never feels as if she is pretty enough, tall enough, skinny enough. I mean I’m thirty-four years old, am I ever going to get to that point when I look at myself in the mirror and am really, truly okay with what is staring back at me?

I suppose that some things will always be a work in progress. But I do know that there are no hags here and I think we all know what SK-II and Fukui University can do with their charming study.

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Do We Still Care What Are Parents Think About Our Boo?

6:50 PM | Labels: I do, parental expectations, Under the Hill

I was listening to the radio this morning and the question of the day was when do you stop caring what your parents think about your boyfriend? I think a better question is when do your parents stop caring who you bring home? Let's face it by the time you hit 30 parents, even the most overprotective ones, get all slap happy as visions of that wedding and grandkids start dancing in their heads. When you're in your twenties your parents want to know what your man does for a living, where he lives, what is his educational background, what is his relationship like with his family, in other words they have a long checklist of what they want for their "little girl" and if your man doesn't meet the criteria Mom and Dad want them gone like yesterday, but when you get to be thirty-something, all your parents want to know is are they breathing? Do they work? And most importantly, how fast can he say I Do!

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Listen to me on Sunday Morning Live on January 23

9:02 PM | Labels: blog radio, Isidra person-Lynn, Sunday Morning Live, Under the Hill

I am going to be on Sunday Morning Live hosted by Isidra Person-Lynn THIS Sunday at 10:00 a.m. talking about Under the Hill.
Guest Call in Number: (619) 996-1674
Show Site: http://www.sundaymorninglive.net/
Show Page: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/sundaymorning-live
Call in and join the fun!

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Under the Hill --- Now in CaribPress!

10:09 PM | Labels: CaribPress, Under the Hill

Under the Hill is now running in the CaribPress. Check it out and let them know if you like it!
Under the Hill

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Under the Hill

Musings of a Thirty-something Singleton

Categories

Archives

The Feminine Mystique

Black Like Me

The Invisible Sex

Worthwhile Pursuits

Under the Hill -- The Book

Petty Things

Everything in Its Time

Thirty-Something Hags

Do We Still Care What Are Parents Think About Our Boo?

Listen to me on Sunday Morning Live on January 23

Under the Hill --- Now in CaribPress!