Recently, a good friend of mine discovered Mad Men on DVD. Laughing about the show got us talking about the sixties, the cigarettes, the typewriters, and most of all, the sexism.
In my early twenties, I worked in a sales office surprisingly not far removed from Don Draper’s world of liquid lunches and shameless chauvinism. Secretary to the company VP, I had more than one sales rep ask me, “You’re Picard’s girl, right?” When I interviewed for a job I thought would be a step up, I was told young married women weren’t preferred candidates “because they’re always going off and having babies.”
Relaying this to my friend, I was forced to remember the most annoying thing about that interview: that I was talking to a woman. Later, back in that sales office, one of us did go off and have a baby, and returned to resentment and cold shoulders — from the women who had shouldered her extra work.
I’m not so superior. Fifteen years later, I find myself working under an all-male cast of supervisors in a completely different field. Yet (and this is the part I’m not incredibly proud of), I have no desire, nor have I ever even tried, to jump in and tip the scales of authority in my gender’s favor.
In a recent blog about violence against women in the Middle East, Dr. Peggy Drexler asked, in essence, “What do the religious right fear about female empowerment?”
Sometimes, I wonder: What do women fear about female empowerment?
What struck me the most about the Susan G. Komen for the Cure/Planned Parenthood kerfuffle was not just the underhanded nature of what Komen’s people did, but that it was a female-centric charity working to undermine the efforts of a non-profit with the same goal: to save women’s lives. Also, the charge against Planned Parenthood was largely lead by a female VP within Komen.
When Hilary Clinton catches heck in the media for (gasp) looking her actual age, frequently it’s from the perfectly lip-glossed mouth of a young female reporter. Magazines like Us Weekly and People frequently revel in highlighting the weight gain, age lines or any other perceived failing of a female celebrity. Check the advertising and you’ll see that it’s mostly women who are buying and reading these rags.
Shows like The Bachelor and just about any show with the word “housewives” in its title make me wonder constantly: Why do women sometimes willingly, even fervently, volunteer to knock each other down?
Don Draper may be a slimy bastard sometimes, but if asked about a woman’s place in the world, you know he’d at least give you an honest answer. Where do we women believe we belong? And are we honest with ourselves about that?
I can only speak for myself and what I fear about empowerment: that more will be expected of me, and that pushing myself higher up on the food chain makes me easier to shoot down. And when I’m not liking what I see in the mirror, I’m more than happy to catalog other women’s flaws in a sad little database in a dark corner of my mind.
But fear of empowerment is not what I want for myself, for my daughter, or any other woman. It’s a learned behavior, so I really have no excuse but to unlearn it.
Last week at a yoga class, an instructor asked this question during meditation: “Who are we not to shine?”
The question paraphrases a passage I’d heard but forgotten about, and which, ironically often gets attributed to Nelson Mandela instead of the female author who actually wrote it:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
― Marianne Williamson, Return to Love
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Caroline Burau is a freelance writer and author of Sugarfiend and Answering 911: Life in the Hot Seat. You can also follow her on Twitter (@carolineburau).
Good points here, Caroline. We need to all remember our deepest, natural proclivity toward brilliance. We need to not be embarrassed to do it. Child’s laughter, morphed into illumination and amplified into the world.
Fantastic article, Caroline! The quote at the end is perfect. There’s so much we have to unlearn, and one of the biggest unlearnings is that we shouldn’t stand out, or we’re targets. If we own the shine, the naysayers have a much harder time winning.
I love this article, I read it a couple of days ago and keep thinking about it. I recently saw an interview with Rachel Maddow where she talked about how when she started rising up in the media, “the phone started ringing”. All the “power” women in news & media started taking her out for breakfast, coffee, etc. Just to say “I’m here – here’s my number if you ever need me.” She went on to explain how there is this sort of camaraderie among women, where they take care of each other in the workplace. Sheryl Sandberg certainly is doing a great job of that now – she is talking about women wherever she can. I even have a friend at Facebook and every time they make a hire, Sheryl would ask “is there a woman who is equally qualified”. I wish I had a female mentor from my working days. Hopefully this is a new era of working women taking care of those younger and steering them in the right direction. This is a wonderful and thought provoking piece, thanks so much, Caroline!